Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

Rowan

Boston?

What the fuck is that reporter talking about?

Sometimes they throw out shit just to get a rise out of the player, but I know Blake well enough to know his body language. And whatever bullshit they’re talking about with Boston is real. He covers nicely, and if you don’t know him intimately—like I do—you wouldn’t catch the annoyed tic in his jaw.

I don’t have time to confront him, though, because there’s a bit of a party going on and the guys are celebrating again. Plus, I have to clean up, make sure the guys are taken care of, and check in on my dad. It turns out he’s going out with a few of the guys, but I decline, knowing Blake and I have to talk. And we’re going to need a little privacy.

“Rowan.” I hear his voice, but this is neither the time nor the place for a confrontation.

“What do you need, Blake?” I ask in my most professional voice.

“You got a minute?”

“If you’re injured, of course. If not, it has to wait. I have to take a look at Gabe’s knee and get my shit together.” I don’t even look at him.

“Okay.” He’s gone without another word, and I’m actually relieved.

I don’t know whether I’m furious or hurt or confused. Probably some combination of all three.

Not only is it against the rules for teams to discuss trades for teams still actively in the playoffs, but he also essentially lied to me. Lies of omission are still lies and I can’t for the life of me figure out why he would do that. Things have been good between us. He told me he loved me, for God’s sake.

Of course, he’d been telling me he loved me for nearly four years when he unceremoniously dumped me last time too.

Fuck.

I somehow get through packing up, the bus ride to the airport, and even the flight without losing my shit.

But it’s coming.

I can feel exasperation and anger and disappointment bubbling to the surface and things are going to explode if I’m not careful.

“I’m going to drop off Bodi and then head to your place,” Blake murmurs to me as we’re heading out to the private airport parking lot.

All I can manage is a tight nod.

My hands are like ice on the steering wheel as I drive home and it’s hard not to cry. I don’t know exactly why I’m so upset—I have no idea what’s going on—but the fact that he lied to me after promising he’s in it for good this time really hurts.

I toss in a load of laundry as I wait for him to get here and then pour a glass of wine.

By the time he knocks on the door, I’ve worked myself into a snit and I throw open the door.

“Boston?” I say the moment it closes behind him. “Seriously?”

“They contacted my agent expressing interest. He goes way back with someone in the organization, so it wasn’t anything official.” He looks contrite. “I just thought I’d wait until I knew something definite before?—”

“You lied to me. And don’t you dare say not telling me wasn’t a lie.”

He sighs. “I know. I’m sorry, babe. I just knew you wouldn’t be happy.”

“Of course I’m not happy! We’re barely back together, and you’re already keeping huge secrets from me about our future!” I throw up my hands.

“No, it’s not like that. I just?—”

“You just what? You’ve got a chance in the NHL and you’re going to take it. I get it. But lying? Keeping secrets? Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? You didn’t want me to go with you to college either. Is that how it’s going to be with Boston?”

“That’s not fair.” He shakes his head. “You’ve been very clear that you’re not leaving your job.”

“I’m not, but if you love me like you say you do, why wouldn’t you give me a choice?”

“Nothing has happened yet!” he says, his voice rising in frustration. “I don’t have an offer or a contract or anything else. It’s just backroom chatter.”

“They contacted your agent. They wouldn’t risk that if they weren’t serious.”

“Probably not, but I still don’t know anything. And what’s the difference if I’m in Boston or Phoenix? Other than the fact that I’ll be making ten or twenty times the money! Which could totally set up our future. If I can play two years out there, that’s enough to put away money for a house. Pay for me to go back to school. Get a little nest egg set aside so we can start our lives off right. And, on top of that, if I’m in Boston, we don’t have to worry about the damn no-fraternization clause.”

I shake my head. “You’re missing the whole point.”

“What? That I was waiting to tell you something until I had all the information?”

“That you’ve started making plans without me. Again .”

“All my plans include you!” he yells.

“How?” I ask. “How are we going to start a new relationship with you living on the other side of the country? How can we build something solid when everything is up in the air? We wouldn’t know how long you’ll be in Boston or when we’ll see each other. We can’t plan for anything. Certainly not children. Or where we’d live. Or buying a home. Do you understand how fucked up this is?”

He just watches me as I rant, not saying a word.

“That’s it? No response?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he says finally. “You’re determined to believe the worst of me. I know I fucked up ten years ago, and I probably should have said something about Boston, but why upset the apple cart when it might not even happen? Like you said, we’re still trying to find our way as a couple, and this does throw a monkey wrench into the machinery. But it’s not all bad.”

“The thing is, there are no good options for us,” I say after a moment. “If you go back to Phoenix, we’re doing the long-distance thing and you’re broke. And technically, you’re still part of the Phantoms organization, so I don’t know if the no fraternization clause extends to the Rebels. If you get a place on the Phantoms roster, then we absolutely can’t be together, and again, we don’t know how long you’re going to play.

“At the end of the day, we knew things were going to be hard, but now they seem impossible. I’m not giving up my dream job and neither are you. So where the hell does that leave us?”

He stares at me, confusion in his gorgeous blue eyes.

I stare back.

I don’t know what he sees in my eyes but whatever it is makes him sad.

Because he looks…defeated.

“Is that how you feel?” he asks after a moment. “Like this thing with us is impossible?”

“It is, unless one of us gives up our dreams, and frankly, we both know we’re not going to. So… what’s the point?”

“The point is that I love you.”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” I whisper, looking away.

“The last time we talked about this, we were coming up with backup plans. Now you’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I’m smart enough, and mature enough, to know when it’s time to let something go. We never had closure before, but this time we do. This time we tried and realized it wasn’t going to work, like adults. Now, maybe we can actually move on.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

“You’re sorry?” The look on his face is pure disbelief.

If I’m honest, I’m having a hard time believing it too.

Letting him go is going to suck.

I didn’t have a choice last time, since he broke up with me, but I’m the one walking away this time and it’s not just hard—it’s… excruciating .

But it has to be better than giving myself to him completely and then losing him a year from now.

No, that would be much, much worse.

“You know, ten years ago, you blamed me for everything, and I let you, but I’m going to set the record straight this time. Yes, I was young and immature, often thinking with my little head instead of my big one, but that wasn’t all of it. There was also the part of me who knew you deserved the chance to follow your dreams too. Because I knew if you followed me, and I got picked up by the NHL, you would leave all that behind. We would get married, have kids, and you would just follow me around.

“I wanted more for you. I handled it badly, because I was a stupid eighteen-year-old, but I wasn’t a complete asshole. I loved you enough to want you to soar, to experience life on your terms, not just mine. In my heart of hearts, I thought we’d find our way back to each other. You weren’t supposed to catch me with those girls—even though we’d broken up and I wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. I just never wanted you to see it. And God knows, you weren’t supposed to hate me.”

He shifts from one foot to the other, his jaw working in irritation.

“But I’m here this time, doing my damnedest to be the man you’ve always wanted me to be. To be the man you deserve. And instead, you’re throwing it in my face. It’s not fair, Rowan. Because I’m trying to work on our future, not just my own.”

“But it boils down to the same thing as it did before,” I say sadly. “One of us would have to give something up for us to be together, and neither of us are willing to do that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says quietly. “Because I would give it all up for you. But you just showed me that you don’t want me to.”

What does that mean?

I’m so confused, and he looks… angry. Hurt. Frustrated.

All the same things I’m feeling.

I don’t know what to do.

But then he makes it easy on me.

“Take care of yourself, Rowan. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” He leans over and presses a feather-light kiss on my forehead.

Then he turns around and walks out the door, letting it close softly behind him.