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Grant

I turn toward my family.

"Hey, guys," I say, forcing a smile as my mom hugs me tightly and my dad claps me on the back.

"We are so proud of you," my mom gushes as she lets me go, and I blush a little. My family's pride always humbles me because, as much as I play the game for myself, I also play it for them, to thank them for everything they did to get me here.

I wouldn't be the player I am today without my parents' support.

"Thanks, Mom," I say, scratching the back of my neck bashfully.

"Are you ready to head inside?" My dad gestures toward the dining room, and I nod as they start walking in that direction.

"Grace?" She stops and turns, raising her eyebrows and smiling up at me. I immediately feel guilty. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," she replies quickly, stepping toward me and reaching for my hand, but I instinctively shove mine into my pocket. I notice my sister narrowing her gaze.

I look down, embarrassed, knowing I'm about to piss her off.

"We won't be long," I say, nodding to my family as I press my lips together. My mom gives me an unsure look as they turn around.

"You were amazing!" Grace throws her arms around my neck, and I hug her loosely in return. "I knew you would do it. You've always been such an incredible hockey player, Grant."

"Thanks," I mumble, rubbing my jaw and struggling to find the right words to start this conversation. We've been friends for years, even before we started dating. As much as I don’t want to ruin that, I can't keep leading her on, even if it’s unintentional.

"I’ve been thinking about putting in a transfer for next year." She clasps her hands in front of her, smiling nervously as she looks up at me. I can't school my expression quickly enough, and my frown makes her hopeful smile slip away.

"Don’t you think if we were closer together, we could pick up where we left off?" she asks, filling the awkwardnessthat results from my silence.

"I don't want to pick us back up," I blurt out, shoving my hands into my pockets. I feel like an asshole and a coward.

"Is it the hockey thing?" Her eyes fill with tears, and her lip trembles.

"No," I lie, knowing that it is one of the main reasons we didn’t work out.

"Come on, Grant. It always came between us. Just be honest with me."

"It’s my dream, Grace. How would you feel if I made you feel like your dream was unimportant?" My voice rises as I run my hands through my hair in frustration. She pouts because I’ve done what she asked and been honest, but she doesn’t like my answer.

"Yeah, but it always got in the way of us being together, and it’s happening again,like that girl wearing your number. I saw you dedicate that goal to her. Is that why you've been ignoring my messages?"

This isn’t going anywhere near how I hoped. We're just bickering like we used to about hockey, and we never resolved anything when we did that.

"If we were together, you should want to be a part of that dream," I say quietly, realising that’s exactly what Brookes does. She wants to be part of my journey.

The conversation I had in Brooke's hotel room had drained all the joy out of making it to the Frozen Four. It wasn't because she wanted to take it away from me, but because she didn't want me to make someone else feel how Josh made her feel.

I hadn’t realised what it feels like to be someone’s equal. She wants me to succeed as much as I want her to succeed, and when I'm stressed or under pressure, she helps me through it without pulling me in multiple directions, just as I do for her.

Right now, I know I need to talk to Grace, but I also want to celebrate with Brooke. She understood my conflict and stepped back to make things easier for me.

"I shouldn’t have ignored your messages." I take a deep breath, realising what I need to say as Grace looks up at me hopefully. "I should have messaged you and told you there was someone else."

"Oh," she says, biting her bottom lip and looking away. "So that’s it?"

"Yeah, it is. We were great, Grace, but I need someone who wants me to succeed as much as I want them to." I scratch the back of my neck, unsure of what to do with my hands. "I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest with you."

"I'm so embarrassed. I told her you were my boyfriend." She looks away, blushing. It reminds me of when we were together; she would say anything to get what she wanted from me. I realise how different we are as people. We never worked.

She wraps her arms around herself. "I’m sorry that I wasn’t more honest with you, but it's been over for me for a long time."

She stares at me for a moment, not saying anything else, before nodding. “I’m going to go back to my room.”

She walks away toward the elevators, and I guess that’s the best conversation I could have hoped for, but I still feel like an asshole.

I blow out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and glance toward the dining room. I need to make sure my girlfriend is still my girlfriend. I hope she is.

Because I'm in love with her.