Page 36

ALDER

The river looks different today—calmer, flatter, and more inviting than it had been last week when Lena and I took Gordie for his morning walk—perfect kayaking conditions. Lena and I are supposed to keep things professional, but we’re friends. I do shit with my friends.

And paddling seems like a healthy distraction from my current drama. Much better than driving to Adam’s place and knocking him out.

I click through the rental options on my laptop, searching for a place away from the busy downtown spots where we might be recognized.

I find a small place up in North Park that offers private launches.

More expensive, but worth it for the privacy.

I imagine Lena's smile when I surprise her with another day on the water—just the two of us, sunshine and cool water.

Maybe this time we can pack a picnic lunch, find a quiet spot near the lake, stretch out on a blanket. ..

Gordie whines softly, breaking my fantasy. He's recovering well from his surgery, the cone off, and his energy is returning to normal. I reach down to scratch his ears, earning a contented groan.

"She'll be home soon, buddy," I tell him as if he's been wondering the same thing I have—when Lena will return from her shopping trip with Emerson and Fern.

Home. The word feels right when I think of Lena in my space with my dog. Despite the complications, despite Brian's warnings and the looming charity gala where we'll have to pretend we're nothing more than colleagues, having her here feels natural. Right. Our bodies just seem to go together.

I know it can't last. She needs her own place for both our careers' sake. But maybe we can stretch this summer a little longer and steal a few more weekends and a few more nights before reality intrudes. It all feels so precious, so fleeting. I’m probably delusional, but I’m planning these outings as if we can be a real couple.

I start to realize Lena and I are just as much of a dirty secret as me and Adam. But I like to hope that Lena’s intentions are different. I remind myself that she’s met my family. That she wants to be with me if she can figure out how.

The sound of a key in the lock sends Gordie scrambling toward the door, his nails clicking on the floor. I follow at a more measured pace, though my heartbeat picks up speed at the prospect of seeing her.

"Hey," I say as she enters, bag draped over an arm. "How was shopping?"

"Good." Her smile seems subdued, not quite reaching her eyes. "Found a dress for the gala."

"Can I see it?" I ask, reaching for the bag.

She pulls it back slightly. "Bad luck. You'll see it at the event."

Something feels off about her demeanor, but I press forward with my plans. "So, I was thinking… There's this kayak place up north that looks great. More secluded than where we went before. I thought maybe we could make a day of it, pack a lunch?—"

"Alder." She cuts me off gently, setting her stuff down by the door. "I need to tell you something. "

The tone of her voice—careful, measured—sends a chill through me. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a set of keys, holding them up to catch the afternoon light streaming through the windows.

"I found an apartment," she says quietly.

The words take a moment to penetrate, to make sense. "An apartment," I repeat, staring at the keys—concrete evidence of a decision already made.

"It's small, but it's available immediately." She closes her hand around the keys. "I'm going to move in tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" My voice sounds strange to my ears, distant and hollow. "That's... fast."

She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's for the best, Alder. We agreed I need my own place."

"Yeah, but I thought we'd have more time to, I don't know, look together. Find something that works for you." Something close to me is what I don't say.

"This works." She finally looks up, her expression a careful mask. "It's within my budget and in a safe neighborhood. It makes sense."

I swallow against the tightness in my throat. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"I'm telling you now." She sighs, setting her purse down and moving past me into the living room. "I thought moving while you were at training tomorrow would be easier. Clean break."

The phrase echoes in my head, sharp and painful. Is that what she wants? To be done with whatever this is between us?

I follow her into the living room, where she's kneeling to greet Gordie. The dog presses against her, sensing something's wrong.

"What about us?" I ask, the question bursting out before I can stop it.

She looks up at me, sadness etched in the lines around her eyes. "There can't be an 'us,' Alder. Not the way things are. You know that."

"So that's it? You're just... leaving?" I hate how plaintive I sound, but I can't seem to control it. I sound like I sounded with Adam, always begging him to stay longer. Shit, I’m a pathetic wreck. Begging people to be with me.

"I have to." She stands, Gordie still pressed against her legs. "We both have careers we've worked hard for. This arrangement was always temporary."

"Right." My laugh sounds bitter even to my own ears. "I remember."

"It's not just that." She wraps her arms around herself as if suddenly cold. "This is getting complicated. Fast. And complicated is the one thing we can't afford to be."

I want to argue, to tell her we can figure this out, and to find a way to make it work. But the rational part of me knows she's right. We've been playing with fire, risking our careers for something we initially defined as temporary, petty revenge.

"I'll help you move," I say instead, surrendering to the inevitable.

She shakes her head. "I hired movers. My stuff that’s here will fit in my car, and they’re meeting me at the other place tomorrow at ten.”

Of course, she has it all worked out. Lena is nothing if not efficient, even when breaking my heart.

The thought catches me off guard. Is that what's happening here? Is she breaking my heart?

"Will you at least stay tonight?" I ask, hating the desperation in my voice.

Her expression softens. "Yes. Tonight, I'll stay."

I know I’m making things harder for myself, but the second Lena walks toward my room instead of hers, I know I’m going to make love to her one last time. Wordlessly, she sheds her clothes and climbs into the bed. I follow, pulling her into my arms and covering her mouth with mine.

I’m achingly hard, and she reaches down, squeezing my cock until I moan into her mouth.

When I trace a hand down Lena’s body, I find her wet and wanting as well.

She juts her hips against my fingers, and I fumble with the nightstand to grab a condom.

I slide it on and roll on top of her, luxuriating in the feel of her body, of her softness surrounding me.

I press my forehead against hers and thrust inside like it’s the most natural, normal thing in the world.

It’s never been like this, so easy. So natural.

Lena digs her hands into my butt, urging me on, and I grunt as I drive into her.

I want to do so many things, but I’m drawn by some unseen power just to thrust. Lena arches her back, finding the friction she needs against my pelvis, and I hear her tiny gasps and feel the flutters as she starts to come.

With my hand pressed to her chest and my mouth on her ear, I come, too, filling the condom with everything I’m unable to say at this moment.

After lying in my bed, our bodies still tangled together, skin cooling. I can't stop touching her, my fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder, memorizing every curve, every freckle as if I could somehow keep her with me through touch alone.

"This is so unfair," I whisper into the darkness, my voice rougher than intended. "I finally find someone who sees me—really sees me—and I can't have you."

Her body tenses against mine. "Alder?—"

"No, let me say this." I prop myself up on one elbow, needing to see her face.

Moonlight spills through the blinds, painting silver streaks across her skin.

"I've spent my whole life being defined by hockey, by what I can do on the ice.

Even with Adam, I was just the athlete, the trophy he kept hidden.

But with you..." My voice catches. "With you, I'm just me.

All of me. And you accept that. You accept me. "

Her eyes glisten in the darkness, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. "I do. That's why this hurts so much."

I turn to press a kiss into her palm. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you here. I know we said this was temporary, but it doesn't feel temporary. It feels like—" I stop myself, afraid to name what's growing between us.

Instead of words, I lower my mouth to hers, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss. She responds immediately, arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens and grows desperate as if we're both trying to imprint ourselves on each other before morning tears us apart.

I whisper against her lips when we break for air, "One more time. Please."

She nods, and I move down her body, worshipping every inch with my hands and mouth, committing her to memory.

This time, we go slow, savoring each touch, each gasp, each shudder.

I watch her face as she comes apart beneath me, and when I finally sink into her, the sensation is so overwhelming I have to close my eyes.

"Look at me," she whispers, and I do, our gazes locking as we move together. Something profound passes between us at that moment—something neither of us is ready to name, but both of us feel.

Later, she curls against my chest, her tears warm against my skin. I hold her tighter as if I could somehow keep morning from coming, keep her from leaving.

"I'll figure something out," I promise, though I have no idea what. "We'll figure something out."

She doesn't answer; she just presses a kiss over my heart as if we’re both pretending to believe there's a solution waiting for us beyond this night.