Page 5

Chapter four

I’d forgot ten the freckles scattered across her nose

Jake

I can’t believe it’s her. Charlie. My Charlie. From camp.

She still has that light, that warmth and quiet strength that always pulled me in. And fuck, it’s pulling me in now, harder than ever.

Her dark auburn hair falls in loose waves, catching the light and making her ethereal. I’d forgotten the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, but seeing them now brings back a flood of memories. I regret not counting every single one of them back then and committing the number to memory. I wonder how many more there are now, and how many stories they carry.

She’s standing right in front of me, her green eyes a little guarded. There’s a heaviness there, something I don’t know yet. But God, I want to know. More than anything, I want to know everything about her from the last twelve years.

Have you been happy?

The question slams into me, and I hate that I don’t know the answer. What’s her life been like? Has she found joy? Did she chase the dreams we whispered about under the stars? Or has she been carrying something heavy, something I should’ve been there to help lift?

Have you been loved? Did you love someone else?

I swallow down the bitterness rising in my throat at the thought. I never had the chance to love her, not the way I wanted to. I wonder if someone else d id. If they treated her right. Loved her right, the way I would’ve. If they made her laugh and feel like the center of their world. Or did they let her slip away, the way I did?

Did they see you the way I do?

Because that’s what I’ve always done. Seen her. Not just the way she looks—though she’s a goddamn showstopper—but the way she is . Charlie’s always been light itself, the kind that makes you feel better just by being near it.

I’d give anything to bask in that light again. To feel the warmth of it, even for a few minutes.

That connection we had was rare. The kind you don’t come across twice, and I was too young and too damn stupid to realize it at the time.

Now I’m standing here staring at her, and all I can think about is her laugh, and the way it warmed me from the inside out. The way we stayed up, talking for hours under the stars. It always felt like something more was going to happen between us, but it never did.

I ask about her kids and her life now, desperate for a glimpse into the world she’s built without me. When she teases me for asking if there’s a husband in the picture, it’s like she’s seen straight through me.

She knows exactly what I’m getting at, and I love that she’s bold enough to call me out on it. Caught. I smile, trying to play it cool, even as I hold my breath waiting for her to answer.

No husband.

The relief is instant but tangled with so much else. She’s single, but that doesn’t mean she’s open. She’s here, but that doesn’t mean she’s staying. And God knows I have no claim to her. Not after all this time.

But fuck, I want to. I want to know how her days go, what makes her smile now, what makes her laugh. What hurts. What’s healed. I want to know about Noah and Meadow—tiny pieces of her walking around in this world, carrying her spirit.

And I want to know about him. The guy who hurt her. Because I can see it now, the weight behind her smile, the battle wounds she’s learned to hide.

What happened, Charlie?

I d on’t have the right to ask, not yet. So instead I practically beg her to come for drinks, hoping she’ll say yes. Hoping she’ll let me into her world for just a bit longer. But when she says no, I see it. The walls she’s built, the fear she’s carrying. The responsibility that weighs on her.

And I hate that I wasn’t there to help carry it.

I should’ve been there.

“Maybe another time?” I try to keep my voice casual, though it’s harder than I expected.

Her smile is soft but there’s distance in it. “Maybe. It’s just… a lot right now.”

It’s not a promise. It’s a real maybe. The kind that feels fragile, like it could shatter if I push too hard.

But I don’t want maybe . I want yes. I want more.

I want to hear about the last twelve years in all their messy, beautiful detail. I want her to tell me everything. The highs, the lows, the dreams, the fears.

Did you ever think about me?

Zoe pulls her away, but my eyes stay glued to Charlie as she moves toward the exit. I force myself not to follow, even though every part of me screams to. She glances back, and there’s something in that unguarded look that's unmistakable.

Her lips part slightly, and her eyes catch mine like she’s trying to make sense of it all. Like she hasn’t just remembered me, but everything we left behind.

It tugs at something deep, a familiar ache I haven’t felt since the morning I watched her leave all those years ago. A thread still hanging, waiting to be pulled.

And God, I want to pull it.

***

I lean back in the booth, letting the cold beer soothe the adrenaline still running through me. Partly from the game, partly from seeing her .

The bar hums with the familiar post-win energy, but I can’t shake the image of Charlie. She’s been on my mind since that second our eyes met on the ice.

“Dude, you’re miles away.” Chase nudges me, scanning the VIP section. “You should be celebrating. That was a killer game.”

I f orce a grin, taking a sip of my drink. “Yeah, just… thinking”

“Thinking about something or someone ?”

I don’t answer right away, my mind drifting back to that moment on the ice when I first saw her on the Jumbotron. She looked out of place in the best way, like she didn’t quite belong but was still the most captivating thing in the entire arena.

“ Charlotte .” Chase teases. “Pretty, huh?”

Pretty doesn’t even begin to cover it. I nod and take another sip of my beer, letting the image of her settle deeper. Fuck, she’s stunning.

The memories hit me with surprising clarity, pulling me back to that summer. I was on the edge of the draft, looking for something that felt real. Working with kids in sports felt meaningful, especially after years of feeling like my own goals didn’t matter to those around me.

On the last night, we hiked up to the highest point in camp, where the Milky Way felt close enough to touch. I can still hear her laughter, feel the warmth in her words that made me feel like I belonged, like I mattered for just being me.

I wanted to kiss her that night but held back, knowing we’d soon be worlds apart. I told myself it was better that way, yet in that one night, she made me feel more important than I ever had. She was glad I existed . Not for my skills or potential, but just because. No one had ever said that to me before.

Life moved fast after that. She went back to New Zealand, I got drafted, and everything turned into a blur of training and games. But the promise we made to follow our dreams stayed. Maybe that’s why I’ve pushed myself so hard all these years.

Ryan gives me a look. “How’d you know her again?”

I take a sip. “We met at a sports camp in Boulder, both eighteen, just before the draft. She was only here for the summer. Was one of the best summers of my life.”

“ Were you guys…?”

“Nah, we were just friends.” I pause, shrugging as I finish my beer. “But fuck, if I could do it all over again…”

Chase whistles from farther down the booth. “That’s wild, man. And you just run into her here, out of nowhere?”

“Yeah,” I say, still reeling. “The second I saw her, I knew it was her.”

I glance around at my teammates unwinding after the game. The bar keeps this VIP space reserved after our home games—a private spot, our usual.

Ryan wanders over to the pool table with his wife, Claire, who's expecting soon. Watching him juggle hockey with a family on the way is something I’ve never even considered, but he makes it look easy. I follow over, and stand next to Elijah and his girlfriend, Tamara. I helped him select a ring recently, and now he’s just waiting for the right moment to propose. The way he looks at her, like she’s his whole world, that’s something I’ve never let myself want.

And then there’s Chase, chatting up a girl at the end of the bar, her hand resting on his arm as she laughs. He’ll probably take her home, and tomorrow there’ll be another one. It’s the same story every night, and I can’t say I don’t get it. Hell, I lived that life in the past, too.

Part of that is because of the demands of my lifestyle. Hockey is my life, and I’ve dedicated everything to it. But it’s not just the game that kept me from settling down, it’s what I grew up with. My dad was a workaholic, completely checked out. He barely noticed me, didn’t give a damn about hockey, even when I got good. Not once did he come to a game, not once did he try to understand the joy it brought me.

I spent years trying to impress him, trying to get an ounce of his attention. Anything. But he just didn’t see the merit in hockey, or in me as a whole. Sometimes I wonder if, given the choice, he’d have chosen not to have me at all.

My mom was different. She tried, but the sadness was always there, like a heavy fog she couldn’t shake. I could see it, even as a kid before her diagnosis. I remember her crying when she thought I wasn’t looking, remember the way she couldn’t get out of bed, like the world was too much for her. Like it was draining her very soul.

For years, I thought maybe I was the problem. That I was too much, needing too much. I learned to take care of myself pretty young. And while I later unders tood it wasn’t about me, the feeling of being both too much and not enough hasn’t faded.

Therapy’s helped. It’s been one of the privileges of being a pro: access to good doctors. I’ve been able to help Mom too, but I don’t know if she’ll ever fully shake that sadness.

But I swore I’d never end up like my dad, ignoring a family for the sake of work, or letting someone else’s misery seep into my life. So I kept my focus on hockey, stayed out of anything serious, and let the rest fall away.

“Are you gonna see her again?” Ryan asks, pulling me back.

“I want to,” I admit, feeling an pang at the thought of not seeing her again. “But I’m not sure she’s open to anything.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t catch up,” Eli chimes in. “You guys were friends, right? No harm in reconnecting.”

I nod, but the thoughts linger. I’ve never done relationships, barely ever tried. It’s not just the schedule, it's that I’ve seen what happens to guys who try—they’re torn between hockey and home, and sometimes lose focus. I convinced myself that wasn’t for me.

But seeing Charlie again tips every one of those thoughts off balance. I don’t even know what that means, but there’s something about her that shifts things, stirs questions I haven’t let myself ask. She doesn’t fit neatly into my life, but somehow seeing her again makes me wonder if I suddenly want to try fitting a circle through a square.

“I’ve never been that guy,” I say, leaning back and gazing over the crowded room. “The game’s always come first.”

“You’re overthinking, man.” Chase claps me on the shoulder. “Just see where it goes.”

He’s right, though I hate to admit it. I’ve always been about the game and the next win, but watching my friends find the real thing has changed something. Maybe there’s more out there for me, too.

“Yeah,” I say finally, a small smile tugging at my mouth.

A woman sidles up to the pool table, her eyes bright with interest as they scan me up and down. It's a look I’ve seen a hundred times but haven’t acted on in months. I smile politely, but I’m already looking past her, my mind still caught on the way Charlotte’s eyes held mine.

“Wanna buy me a drink?” she asks, leaning in a little too close, her perfume heavy.

“Uh, not tonight” I say, nodding toward Chase. “He’s your guy.”

The woman pouts, but I’m already turning back to my thoughts.

I need to see Charlotte again.