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Jolie

Me

How has it been a month since I saw you?

You’re kicking all the ass in the meantime—I’ve been keeping track.

Who would have ever thought I’d be cheering for a team aside from Boston?

Not me, certainly, LOL. Anyway, I’m going to be in LA next weekend.

I know you’re going to be in Dallas for a game, and then you’re off to Canada.

It just feels weird to go there and not reach out to you.

Beck

Jolie …

You’re flying in on Friday and heading back on Sunday?

Me

Yep.

Beck

Extend your trip.

Me

I can’t. I have a test first thing on Monday morning.

Beck

I get back to LA on Monday afternoon.

Me

Sigh.

Beck

What if you flew to Dallas on Thursday and then flew to LA on Friday? That would give us one night together.

Me

I’d love nothing more, but I can’t make it happen. I’m meeting with a new client on Thursday, and we’re taking them on the yacht.

Beck

Busy girl.

Me

Me? Ha! More like you’re the busy one.

But, hey, at least I tried. I hope I get to see you soon.

Beck

You will.

Beck

Hey, you.

Me

Hey, YOU.

Beck

Your sophomore year is coming to a close. You must be excited. Things going good for you?

Me

I still have a couple of months to go and finals—shudder, LOL. But, yeah, things are awesome.

Your season is almost over. It has to feel amazing, knowing that a break is coming soon.

Beck

Regular season, yes, but now we have to survive playoffs.

Me

I imagine that’s a whole thing.

Beck

Yes, a whole fucking thing.

Listen, I’ve got a bye week coming up. I can’t travel since I have practice every day, but I was thinking, why don’t you come out and stay with me? If you can’t swing the whole week, come for a couple of days or as long as you can.

Me

Ooh. Sounds fun. What are the dates?

Beck

March 12–18.

Me

Beck, nooo! Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me those aren’t the dates?!

Beck

You’ve got plans?

Me

I’m in South Beach that whole week with my friends for spring break.

Beck

You’ll have a blast.

Me

I thought that too … until I got your invite.

Me

I swear I didn’t breathe that entire game! AH! I’m screaming for you right now and sending ALL THE CONGRATS! What an amazing victory, Beck. Stanley Cup winner—I couldn’t be happier for you.

Beck

Jolie …

I appreciate that. Thank you.

Me

I hope you’re celebrating.

Beck

We’re doing a shitload of that, yes.

Me

I wish I were there with you. Enjoy every second.

Beck

Hey, beautiful. How’s summer treating you?

Me

Hi, stranger. It’s summer? I wouldn’t know. The only time I’m outside is when I’m walking to and from work. I’ve been dreaming about sand, surf, and a tiny bikini. Sigh. How are you? Are you eating up every second of your break?

Beck

Fuck yes. I’ve been in the Maldives, and I’m heading to Europe soon, where I’ll be spending the next month or so until I have to report to practice.

Me

Another season already? Whoa!

Beck

Another school year. Junior year, baby.

Me

Shhh. We don’t bring up school. I’m soaking up every second of this homework-less and test-less life, LOL.

Beck

You know what I think you should do to celebrate that no-school life?

Me

Tell me.

Beck

You should meet me in Paris. I’ll be there next week. And since you’d be gone over the 4th of July, I even promise fireworks.

Me

Do you know how dreamy that sounds? Except next week, I’m in Cape Cod. A bunch of us rented a house to celebrate the holiday.

You know what I think you should do to celebrate that no-practice-and-no-game life? You should come to the Cape with me.

Beck

That’s a tough one.

Me

Cape Cod vs. Paris—there’s a clear winner there.

Plus, it’s been, what, 7-ish months since I kissed you? That’s just mean.

Beck

Just because I’m not coming to the Cape doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you …

Me

Happy start of your new season. How is it possible that summer is over and another season is beginning? Sigh.

Beck

No shit. It feels like the season just ended and Europe never happened.

Me

Was it amazing? I wish your assistant had posted pics from your trip on your Instagram account and not just hockey and brand deals. I was dying to see your adventures, and she shared nothing about it.

I get why you’re so private. I just selfishly wanted to see more.

A photo came through of Beck in front of the Eiffel Tower.

It was nighttime, and the tower was lit with beautiful white lights.

His body wasn’t pointed toward the camera; it was more of a side angle, and he was looking over his shoulder with a slight grin.

But that face? My God . It was shaved down to a heavy stubble, his hair short, his hazel eyes filled with a fiery gaze even though it was dark outside.

This was the groomed version of Beck when I’d been with the wild, untamed one.

I had no preference. The man was so hot either way. But now that I had this photo on my phone, what it did, what it showed me, was that I would do anything to rewind time so I could go to Paris instead of the Cape.

What was I even thinking when I made that decision?

Beck

What you missed …

Words that rubbed salt straight into the regret wound.

Me

I hate myself. In case you’re wondering.

But ironically, I’m reaching out because I’m trying to see you.

I know it’s a long shot, especially after checking your schedule, but I’m going to be in LA for one night—October 21.

Any chance you’ll be flying back after your game in Chicago?

It looks like you’ve got a three-day window between that game and your game in Vegas.

Beck

We leave Chicago and fly straight to Vegas.

Me

I was afraid that was going to be your answer.

I swear, the universe is doing everything in its power to keep us apart.

Beck

Jolie … I’m sure you know we’re coming there in a few weeks to play Boston.

Me

Yep, I know. I can’t even believe I’m about to type these words.

Beck

You’re going to be out of town, aren’t you?

Me

I’m heading to Lake Como with my fam for Christmas. I was going to text you soon and tell you. It’s just, at this point, I kinda can’t believe we’re missing each other AGAIN.

Do you know what next week is?

Beck

No.

Me

The one-year anniversary of us meeting.

Beck

One year? No shit.

Me

It’s a crime that I haven’t seen you since. Those three nights, Beck—I think about them. A lot.

Beck

Me too.

Me

That was such a tough loss. You guys were SO close to winning the conference finals.

I can’t believe it came down to a sudden-death match during overtime.

I hope you know that even though you didn’t get the win, you guys had the most incredible season.

Be proud of yourself, Beck. I’m certainly proud of you.

Beck

I appreciate you.

Congrats on finishing your junior year. I’m assuming you’re about done with finals?

Me

Almost, yes, and then it’s another summer packed full of work with a few trips to the Cape thrown in, LOL.

Beck

It’s your last one before your life becomes all work. Enjoy it.

Me

Enjoy Europe—I’m guessing that’s where you’re headed during your time off?

Beck

Europe, Africa, and Asia.

Me

Ah! Amazing! I’ve always dreamed of going on a safari.

Can you imagine listening to the sounds of all those animals and looking up at the dark sky, gazing at the stars with me? Put me in your suitcase, pleeeease.

I stared at my screen, the bubble beneath his name showing that he was typing. I slowly filled my lungs with air, the anxiety kicking in as I wondered what his response would be. Would he invite me to join him, like he had asked me to come to Paris? Would he offer to go to the Cape?

Even though we hadn’t seen each other in a long time, that hadn’t stopped us from trying to get together.

The want was there.

He showed me that consistently.

Luck just hadn’t been on our side.

I set my phone down on my bed, the bubble still moving beneath his name.

I went into the kitchen of the apartment I shared with Ginger and another friend, and I grabbed a can of sparkling water from the fridge.

Both girls were already sleeping. I was the only one who had stayed up for the game, so I quietly tiptoed back to my room, making sure I didn’t wake them.

I sank into the row of pillows on my bed and picked up my cell. I waited a few seconds, but the bubble was gone, and it didn’t return.

And there was no message from Beck on the screen.

He didn’t want me to go.

A devastating blow that dug straight into my heart as each hour passed.

My chest was a gaping hole the next morning when there was still no text from him.

And when a whole week went by and all I got from him was silence, my heart completely shattered.

“Why don’t you look as excited as I thought you’d be?” my father asked as I sat on the other side of his desk. The news he’d just shared was pulsing inside my chest, hitting walls that held in my heart and ricocheting. “I thought you’d be grinning ear to ear.”

But his news had come out of nowhere.

And it was information I was having the hardest time processing.

“I am excited, Dad.” I rubbed my hands over my black skirt. They weren’t just sweaty; it felt like each finger weighed hundreds of pounds. “I think I’m a little overwhelmed by it all.” When they were as dry as they could get, one dived into my hair, twirling the strands as my brain spiraled.

A spiral that took me from one dead end to another, causing me to mentally turn and run in a different direction.

“Understandable.” He picked up his cell as it rang on top of his desk and silenced the call. “We have a lot to discuss. I want to get into details, but I don’t have time to do that now.”

My chest was thumping far too hard and fast for me to say much more besides, “No, I get it.” I checked my watch, knowing I was cutting it close to the meeting I had with my client.

This pop-in with Dad had been unscheduled; he’d just asked me to come to his office a few minutes ago.

“I have to run too. How about I come over for dinner tonight and you can break everything down?”

He picked up the silver classic pen from his desk—a gift I’d given to him when I was in the first grade, Best Dad engraved toward the top—and he tapped it against his blotter. “Salmon piccata or lasagna?”

“Dad,” I groaned, “you can’t ask me that. You know they’re both my favorites that Mom makes.”

He smiled. “See you tonight.”

I nodded and got up from my chair, walking out of his office and closing the door behind me.

As I reached my cubby, I found it harder and harder to breathe, especially since one of the first things my eyes landed on was Boston’s schedule.

It was pinned to the wall right next to my computer, where I’d circled the home games in pink highlighter.

Three weeks from now, we were playing the LA Whales.

At home.

Beck hadn’t reached out to ask if I would be in town. We hadn’t even spoken since LA had lost the conference finals at the end of last season.

I didn’t want the silence.

I also didn’t want to bother him or bombard him with messages.

When he hadn’t replied, something had told me that was the end of us. Not that there had been an us, but the effort on both sides had been exhausted, and we were accepting that whatever happened, happened, and it wouldn’t be happening again.

But he was coming here to play, and he knew my dad had season tickets. I was sure he knew that if I was in town, I would be there.

I rested my elbows on my desk, my hands going over my face.

But after the news I just heard … will I be there?