Page 30 of Your Biggest Downfall (Ravens Hockey #3)

austin

I didn’t expect her to be here. I had the driver wait and promised myself ten minutes before I barged in.

I couldn’t call her like a normal person because I hadn’t been given my phone back yet.

It was at my apartment, and I wanted to stop here first. Nova was the first person I needed to see.

All I could hope for was that she got my letter and that she was proud of me.

When I saw her walking toward me, she took my breath away.

She was in a pair of black jeans and a black cropped T-shirt with a black bag slung across her chest. I fixated on the sliver of skin between her pants and shirt before moving my eyes up toward her face.

Her hair was straightened and a little longer than I remembered but still cropped slightly past her chin.

She walked with confidence and ease toward me. Her chin was high, and if anyone else was walking down the street, they’d see a powerful woman walking toward her target, but I saw the slight quiver of her lip. Only I was able to see the hesitancy as she took one more step toward me.

I was leaning casually against the wrought iron fence along her building. My feet were kicked out in front of me, and my hands were shoved in my pocket. I had on sunglasses and a baseball cap to conceal my identity in case any paps were around.

The moment she stopped, I was a goner. I’d made the right decision stopping here first.

I slid off my sunglasses so I’d be able to see her. She looked so good and healthy.

“Hi,” she whispered, the word getting caught in her throat.

I stepped closer until our bodies were a hair’s breadth apart. I reached out to brush her hair off her cheek, but paused for a moment.

“Hi,” I whispered, my fingers grazing her skin, and in that instant, I was lost.

My rough fingers met the smooth softness of her honey skin, and it felt like the world tilted beneath me.

The contrast between us—her delicate warmth against the calloused texture of my hand—was almost too much.

As I traced the gentle curve of her cheek, a jolt shot through me, igniting a fire deep within that I’d tried to keep under control for far too long.

This fire, borne of desire, longing, and something more profound, flared up, refusing to be ignored.

It was as if time had folded in on itself, obliterating the weeks without her into nothing.

All that mattered was this—her skin beneath my fingers, her presence overwhelming every one of my senses.

The tension of those lost days began to unravel, giving way to raw, unfiltered emotion, emotion that had been building in the silence of our separation.

My fingers lingered on her cheek, the warmth of her skin seeping into me.

Her scent, familiar and intoxicating, filled my lungs with each breath, deepening the ache in my chest that had settled there the moment we were forced apart.

I was drowning in her, willingly sinking into the depths of all that she was, all that we were together.

My heart hammered against my rib cage. The memory of that night still haunted me, a whisper of the pain we’d endured, lurking at the edges of my consciousness. It was a bittersweet contrast—the joy of being near her again against the lingering ghost of the night at the bar.

As quickly as I’d touched her, I pulled away, fear and doubt creeping in. I hesitated, the weight of our past hanging between us like a shadow.

“Fuck it,” I muttered.

I closed the distance between us again, wrapping my arms around her waist. I pulled her tightly against me, the softness of her body molding to mine, her warmth filling every cold, empty corner of my soul.

Our kiss was inevitable, and my lips found hers with an urgency that left us both gasping, the intensity of our connection refusing to be ignored.

But I didn’t pull back—I couldn’t—not now that I had her again.

Instead, I deepened the kiss, pouring everything I’d felt in those long, lonely nights into the way my mouth moved against hers, the way my hands held her tightly, as if afraid she might disappear if I let go.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything we’d been through—of the pain, the longing—that had only grown stronger with time.

The world around us fell away, leaving only the sensation of her lips against mine, the taste of her filling my senses, and the certainty that this was where I was meant to be—here, with her, in this moment.

Nova put her hands against my chest and pushed away. She was panting. “I—I—I...”

I shook my head, my voice trembling. “Don’t do this,” I begged, my eyes pleading with hers.

Beneath my words, the deeper meaning was clear: Don’t pull away from me. Don’t run. The fear of losing her gripped me, and I needed her to understand—I wasn’t just asking her to stay; I was begging her not to leave me behind.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breathing intensified. “You— I—I can’t do this.”

She turned away from me, and as much as I wanted to reach out, turn her around and kiss away all the pain again, she needed her space.

I sighed and shoved my sunglasses back on. “I have a meeting tomorrow with the staff. They found out I got out early and organized it.”

“Good,” she murmured but still faced away from me. I needed her to turn around for one second. “Why did you get out a day early?”

I shrugged, debating whether or not I should tell her the truth. “I checked myself out earlier. Figured everything would just be admin stuff on the last day.”

The truth was a little more in depth than that. I wanted to leave early, and when given the opportunity, I took it because I wasn’t an addict.

“Okay, then.”

I didn’t want to leave. I was stalling. “Nova,” my voice softened. “Please.”

I went to rehab for her. I got better for her. Why wasn’t she turning around? Couldn’t she see that I was getting better? I was clean and sober.

My rapid-fire thoughts swirled in my brain.

We never got closure from the night I took her virginity.

I never got to make it up to her, and I thought if I went to rehab, worked the steps and got clean, I could come back a better man for her.

I worked on myself so I could be open to falling for her.

I needed her in my life like I needed air to survive.

“I know there’s so much we need to talk about. Will you sit down and talk to me?” I asked as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I need more . . . time,” she whispered.

“Time,” I repeated. “More time.”

I didn’t understand. She was always there for me when I needed her most. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it in. I looked down. My hands were trembling.

No. Not now.

I needed a drink—so badly that my body was playing tricks on me. I shoved my hands into my pockets, realizing that things with Nova were going nowhere. I had to get back and work out a plan with my sponsor to regain control over this situation.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Maybe I’ll see you around the arena tomorrow.” I hung my head shamefully.

I owed it to her to become a better person.

I didn’t want to be the guy who fucked girls in bathrooms while doing coke off their asses.

Nova didn’t deserve that. She was all things good.

She worked hard, and she’d always put me and the team first. She deserved respect.

She had a lot going on in her life, balancing work and her sick mother. ..

Her mom.

Before I turned to go, I shifted my eyes to her back. “Hey,” I said softly. “How’s your mom doing?”

For a long moment, she said nothing, and I didn’t dare move. The only sounds were the distant hum of passing cars and the occasional chirping of a bird.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Nova turned around. Her eyes were wide, tears streaking down her cheeks. I ached to reach out and pull her into my arms.

She cleared her throat. “She’s stable,” Nova said quietly. Then she added, “Thanks for asking.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

I sighed, wanting—needing—to say more but knowing that now wasn’t the time. She still needed space, and I had to respect that.

I turned to go, opening the car door and casting one last glance over my shoulder, silently hoping she’d stop me. She was staring up at me, so I gave her a demure smile before piling into the car.

“Home?” the driver asked.

I gazed back as we pulled away. No, I wasn’t going home. Because home was standing on that concrete sidewalk right outside this car. We weren’t going home, not yet.