Page 49

FORTY-TWO

lauren

I’ve been staring at my computer screen for an hour, trying to focus on work, but all I can think about is Tate. The email from Marco sits in my inbox, making my stomach churn. Please hold off on drafting PR materials for Tate Foster.

And then there’s the email I still haven’t sent.

Part of me wants to text him, to ask about his decision, to know if he’s really leaving before I hit send. But of course today would be the day he’s buried in team meetings and practice. I keep checking my phone anyway, hoping for some sign, some clue about his future.

By afternoon, I can’t take it anymore. I get up from my desk and head to the rink, where I’ll take some PR shots with the hope that I’ll get a few minutes alone with him.

When I finally reach the ice, I catch a familiar flash of dark hair, and my heart tumbles.

Tate’s gaze locks on to me. Then he shoots that awesome smile with full dimples, and I can’t even help myself.

I’m grinning back at him like a fool. One week away from this man, and all he has to do is smile, and I’m ready to hop over the wall that separates us and climb him like that frisky cat did at the gala.

For a moment, I’m jolted back to the kiss in the cabin, the way my lips melted against his, how his hands felt sliding down my back, the way I felt protected, like nothing could hurt me ever again.

Tate does a sharp stop and then skates toward me just as Coach Jenkins calls him back with, “Team, we’re going over defensive strategy next, especially since we’re losing one of our key defensemen soon.”

I freeze, my feet like cement blocks holding me in place.

So it’s official. Tate is leaving.

My chest tightens, and I can only take shallow breaths.

He’s really going away. Just when I was ready to give him everything.

Tate looks back at me, his expression apologetic. He lifts a glove, a silent wait for me.

But I can’t stay here and pretend I’m fine when I’m clearly not. And the worst part is, a week ago, I was the one considering leaving all this behind for a new job, and now, he’s the one leaving me.

While the team huddles, I slip away, hurrying back to my office, where I pack up for the day. If I head home now, I don’t have to pretend to be fine. Because I can’t put on my professional mask for Tate. He’ll see right through it, no matter how hard I try to hide my real feelings from him.

When I reach my apartment, I change into pajamas, the cotton shorts and tank top from the reunion trip, then crank a sad songs playlist as I look through the player profiles for the new year.

When I can’t focus on doing any work, I end up scrolling through photos from the family reunion. A picture of Tate and Annie on the beach, then Tate in his ruffled apron, and the moment right after the competition when he wiped the frosting off my lips.

I swipe to another photo of Tate and me slow dancing during the Williamson prom night, taken by Aunt Karen. I remember how his hands felt on my body, the words he whispered in my ear, the way he held me like I was exactly where I belonged.

This was never about making Bart jealous.

It was about how, for the first time in my life, I felt cherished by a man who saw all my flaws and loved me anyway.

Somebody who was the complete opposite of me, but also my perfect fit.

Someone who fought for me and showed up for me.

Because love always shows up. Even when it makes no sense.

Even when it seems like the worst timing in the world.

When I finally reach the last picture, a blurry selfie from the cabin taken next to the candles, my heart wants to reach for him through the screen.

Because that was the kiss I’ll never forget.

The one that flipped every narrative I’d come up with about love.

And no matter what happens next, it will always be the moment that changed me for the better.

It showed me how a good man holds a woman’s heart—that it’s something priceless, something to fight for.

I close my photos and set my phone next to me.

Here I am again, waiting for someone else to choose me.

Just like I waited for Bart, who couldn’t even stick around when Mom was in her last days.

Who asked my cousin out the day of the funeral, like I was so unlovable he couldn’t stand to comfort me when I needed someone most.

And now it’s happening again. Someone else is getting their dream—Tate’s NHL offer—while I sit here waiting for mine to come true. Waiting for someone to pick me first, just once.

The ache in my chest tears me up inside like an old seam ripping apart. That familiar feeling of not being enough, not worth staying for.

But even through the ache, I know one thing with absolute certainty: Kansas City isn’t right for me.

The Crushers is home. I feel it in my bones, in the way my heart expands when I walk into the rink, in how this team has become my family.

And then there’s my actual family. My sister needs me more than ever before .

I can make that choice, at least. Even if I can’t control whether Tate stays.

I pull up the unsent email to Kansas City, no hesitation as I read over my response once more:

Subject: PR Manager Position

Thank you for the opportunity, but I’ve decided to decline your offer. After careful consideration, I’ve realized this position isn’t the right fit for me.

Lauren Williamson

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. Because I won’t be overthinking this part of my future. I already know what I want.

My phone rings. It’s Dad, and for a second, I consider letting it go to voicemail. “Hey, Dad.”

“Lauren, hi.” He almost sounds surprised I answered. “I wanted to find out how your Kansas City interview went.”

I pause, the usual script forming on my tongue. Oh, it went great.

But I don’t say it, because I’m done acting like the girl who’s always fine, always sunny, always ready to slap a polished PR spin on something that’s truly awful.

“I just turned them down,” I say instead. “Kansas City wasn’t right for me. It made me realize something. Sometimes, the dream of what you want is totally different than the reality.”

“Oh,” Dad murmurs. “You want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know where to start,” I admit with a sigh. “I feel like I’ve been lying to everyone, including myself.”

“Honey, what’s going on?”

“The job was completely wrong for me, but that’s not even the real problem.

” I pause, knowing I need to just say it.

I close my eyes. “I haven’t been honest with you about Tate.

When I brought him to the reunion, we were just pretending to date so I could avoid all the awkwardness with Bart and the family questions.

But during the reunion—I don’t know how it even happened—I fell for him.

I got to see who he is when no one’s watching, how gentle he is with kids, how he made me laugh.

What started as a favor turned into something real.

And now I don’t know what to do. I was counting on Kansas City working out. ”

Dad pauses, then chuckles. “I suspected as much.”

I blink. “You knew?”

“Of course. I’m your dad . It was the way you looked at him when you thought no one else was watching. You have two smiles, Lauren. The polite professional one. And the one that’s like joy spilling out of your heart. And when I saw him draw that second smile out of you, I just knew.”

“And you were okay with it?”

“Honey, I just wanted to see you happy. And you were happier that week than you’d been in years. So what’s the problem now that you’re staying in Sully’s Beach? Seems like the answer is right in front of you.”

I let out a sigh. “Because Tate just got an offer from Seattle. And even though I’m happy for him, it came right when I was ready to make a life with him.”

“Why is that a problem? Tate is a logical guy. He won’t make a decision without thinking through every angle.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason he questions this opportunity. I don’t want him to regret anything.”

Dad lets out a breath. “You know, your mom used to say that love wasn’t about sacrifice—it was about choosing each other. Again and again, even when the road splits.”

“Mom was so wise.” I pause, wishing Mom was here now to give me advice, then say quietly, “You miss her?”

“Every day,” he admits. “But I need you to know something about Patty.”

Her name hangs between us, and I realize it doesn’t feel like a wedge anymore. Just a bridge I wasn’t ready to cross yet.

“I should’ve told you sooner about her. And not in the middle of the reunion.

That was not my finest moment. I just didn’t know how to tell you I was dating someone new.

Because Patty isn’t a replacement for Mom.

She never could be. Your mother will always be special to me, Lauren. Always. That never changes.”

I blink a few times, trying to hold back the tears as I pull a blanket onto my lap. “Then why does it feel like letting someone new in means letting Mom go?”

“Because love doesn’t replace. It layers. One memory over another. And I think your mom would’ve wanted me to be happy. Just like she would’ve wanted that for you.”

I nod, my fingers playing with the edge of the blanket, the tears slipping out.

“I needed to hear you say this more than I realized.” I take a deep breath, wiping my face.

“And, Dad, I’m sorry for how I acted about Patty at the reunion.

You deserve happiness, and if she gives you that, then I’m happy for you both. ”

“Oh, honey,” Dad says, his voice gentling. “I know how hard that was to say. But us talking like this— this is what your mom would have wanted most. And it means more than you know to me.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. And don’t wait to talk to Tate. Tell him how you feel, just like Mom would’ve told you to do.”

I can hear her delicate alto voice whispering it in my ear: Love is about choosing each other—even when the road splits.

When I hang up, I feel better than I have all day, but I also can’t wait any longer. The silence between us has gone on long enough. I need to find out if he’s leaving, to wrap my arms around him, to kiss him even if it rips me up inside. He deserves to know. We deserve to know.

I don’t even bother changing out of my pajamas.

Tate’s seen the real me, and he’s the only person who’s never asked me to be anything else.

I grab my keys from the counter and head for the door.

He’s going to know that someone is fighting for us, even if I stumble over the words or it all comes out wrong.

I’m not going to spin this situation or pretend everything’s perfectly fine when it’s not.

For once, I’m just going to speak from my heart.

I’m halfway to the door when there’s a sharp knock.

When I open it, Tate is on the other side. His face splits into a smile, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

Why is Tate Foster standing outside my door, looking like I’m the only thing that makes him complete?

“Hey, Sunny. I missed you,” he says, his voice low. His eyes slide over me, and his lips twitch. “Nice pajamas.”

I grip the door handle to steady myself, like I’m unraveling under his gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says, like this is something normal people do—show up unannounced on a Monday afternoon. “Left practice a little early. Thought I’d break a few more rules.”

I swallow. “I was just about to come find you.”

“Were you?” His smile deepens, like this pleases him to know. We’re like two magnets, spinning and pulling toward each other until we snap together.

“Tate, we need to?—”

“Can it wait?” he interrupts gently. “I have something to show you first.”

There’s a little yip at his feet, and I suddenly realize Annie is sitting there, tail wagging like she’s been waiting for me all week.

I bend down to scratch around her ears, and she launches herself at me like I’m her favorite person in the world. “You brought Annie.”

I lift her into my arms, and she immediately covers my face with kisses.

“Of course I did. We both missed you.” I see his joy as he watches us together. “But I need you to get dressed first. You won’t want to wear pajamas for this.”

“But I thought Annie staying with you was temporary?”

“Like how you keep thinking I’m going to walk away? Sunny, I thought you knew me better by now. ”

“But don’t you want to hear about Kansas City?” I try again. “And what about your news?”

“Later,” he says, stepping back like he’s ready to leave, his smile mysterious. “Trust me, this is more important.”

“Tate Foster, what are you up to?”

He stops on the steps, flashing those dimples that can convince me to do anything. “I can’t tell you, or it’ll spoil it. But I promise you, Sunny—it will be worth it.”