Page 9

alex

The next day dragged on. With no hockey to distract me, I turned to my working out, but even that didn’t bring comfort. I was lost in a mess of emotions. Usually, the rink was my safe place, but thinking about facing Dimitri filled me with rage. The bruise on her back kept flashing in my mind.

I was beyond pissed at Dimitri, but her words still stung; she lied to me and dragged my family into it to cover herself.

I shouldn’t have pushed her when she was already hurting, but I was frustrated.

I thought pointing out the bruise and knowing it came from him would help, like maybe she’d finally feel some relief.

Looking back, I get it—the cycle of abuse isn’t that simple.

Telling someone to just leave could make things worse.

I was unreasonably upset by this whole situation. She was the wife of a teammate, a transient figure in my life like everyone else. I had never become friends with anyone because everyone always left or disappointed me. This was another example of that.

With a heavy sigh, I sank onto the couch, flicking on the television to drown out the cacophony of thoughts swirling in my mind.

It was well past nine, marking the absence of her presence at my door.

Whatever had transpired between us last night had drawn a definitive line in the sand.

There would be nothing more between us—no friendship.

I was all set for an epic Star Wars movie marathon, fully aware I had an early practice in the morning and would probably crash in the next twenty minutes. Just as I was about to dive into the adventures of a galaxy far, far away, my phone buzzed, cutting through the peace of the moment.

It wasn’t the familiar ping of a text message but rather the distinct alert from the doorbell, signaling movement outside my apartment. Intrigued, I swiped open the doorbell camera app, revealing her standing on the other side, clutching a Tupperware container.

She was wearing a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie.

Her blonde hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail and hung low down her back, swaying as she shifted on her feet.

The faint shuffle of her shoes against the ground punctuated the silence, and I watched with bated breath as she finally looked up at the door, her eyes betraying a wariness that mirrored my own.

She sighed softly before turning around, clutching the silly plastic container and heading to the elevator. I couldn’t let her leave. Not with how sad she looked and to go back to a house where God knows what happened behind closed doors.

I shot up from the couch and jogged over to the door, pulling it open before the elevator down the hall dinged to alert its arrival.

“Anastasia,” I called out, and she whipped around, tears falling down her face.

I crossed the hallway to get to her.

“I am s-so, s-s-s-so sorry,” she said as tears fell down her cheeks.

Dark black streaks marred her face as she cried.

I shook my head. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

Part of this was my fault. I pushed her to confess something when she wasn’t ready.

“No. It’s not.” Her shoulders slumped forward.

“Come on,” I said, looking down the hallway, not wanting Dirks to come out and see her like this. “Come inside.”

Not that I was doing anything wrong, but I didn’t want us caught in the hallway together while she was crying, especially after seeing that bruise. I knew the kind of damage her husband could inflict, and the last thing I wanted was to make things worse for her.

She nodded and walked back to my apartment. I trailed behind her as she slowly but deliberately walked to my kitchen, where she placed the container on the countertop and then turned toward me.

“Yesterday, what I said was so mean,” she finally murmured, her voice less shaky than it was earlier.

“It was,” I agreed.

She nodded along, likely waiting to see what I was going to say next, but the ball was in her court. If she wanted to talk about what I saw or the way she acted, then I needed to give her the space to do so.

Growing up, I watched my mom endure so much pain, pretending everything was fine while my dad cheated, and it tore me apart.

I’d catch glimpses of her crying in the kitchen, wiping away her tears before anyone else could see.

Seeing Anastasia struggle with her marriage brought all of that back, hitting a little too close to home.

I couldn’t push her or force her to open up—I’d learned the hard way that people need to come to terms with things in their own time.

As much as I wanted to reach out and protect her, I stayed back, letting her have the space to feel what she needed to, just like I’d done for my mother.

“I meant—” She sighed, her hands trembling as they rested on the container she was holding.

Every instinct I had wanted to reach out, to tell her it was okay, to offer her some kind of comfort.

But I held back. We were just friends, and I had to respect that.

If this were Dirks, I wouldn’t be leaning in to hug him, so I reminded myself to give her the space she needed, even if every fiber of my being wanted to close the distance.

“I don’t want to justify what I was saying, but my marriage is?—”

I held up a hand, stopping her. “Your marriage and your dynamic is yours to keep. If you feel, at any point, you’re unsafe, as your friend, I’ll help you, but I need you to be the one to reach out. Dimitri is my teammate. You are...”

The corners of her lips twisted into the slightest smile, but there was nothing genuine behind her eyes. They looked lost and empty. “A friend still, I hope?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

I paused for a second before adding, “Listen, I’ve never really had any friends. I never really get close to anyone. Hockey is all I know, and my teammates are there, but I never get close to anyone. But I like spending time with you. I want you to know I’m trying here, too.”

“I don’t have any friends here either, so it feels nice to have each other.”

I nodded in agreement.

“About your parents,” she began softly. “I’m truly sorry. I should have never used them to hurt you. I was embarrassed and ashamed of my bruise and wanted you to feel the same pain I did.”

“But we can’t let that happen anymore,” I said, gesturing between us. “It doesn’t move our friendship forward.”

She nodded. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you okay?” I asked her softly. I needed to know, once more, if she was safe.

I needed her to tell me and wanted to see if she would tell me what really happened. I could help.

She reached forward and quickly clasped her hands in front of her body. I shuffled in place for a few minutes while waiting for her response.

“I just fell.”

“Into a fridge?” I confirmed.

“Yeah . . . Or at practice. I can’t remember.”

It pains me that she continued to lie for him, even though we both knew the truth.

I had to stick to my word. What they did in their marriage was on them.

It’s possible that it was something sexual.

Clearly Dimitri was a horny fucking asshole who cheated on his wife, so maybe he had a large. .. appetite.

Fuck. What was I doing? I was making excuses for a piece of shit I’d wanted to fight earlier.

“You need to know, if at any point you want to talk, I’ll always be here for you.

” I kept thinking about how my mother and father would fight and how my dad constantly cheated on my mom.

I remembered how devastated she was, and I prayed Anastasia wasn’t feeling that same pain.

I hated sweets, but I’d eat every cookie or treat she baked, hoping it was enough to show her she wasn’t alone.

“Again, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, still not looking in my direction.

It was enough apologizing. I preferred her in my space. I wanted her here as a friend. It was simple, and if I didn’t forgive her then I’d lose her.

I gestured to the Tupperware she’d brought. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”

She looked down and let out a small chuckle before she pulled off the lid. “I didn’t have time to cook before he left so...” She shoved it in my direction, and I walked over to her to look at what it was.

I lifted the container and narrowed my eyes to make sure I was seeing it correctly.

I grabbed a slippery, yellow piece of food and held it up. When I realized what it was, I burst into laughter, dropping the container of pineapple onto the counter and clutching my stomach.

“Stop it.” Anastasia joined in on the laughter as she held her own stomach, leaning against the corner of the island. “It took me so much longer to cut than baking some damn cookies, too.”

I collapsed to the floor, my stomach cramping from the intensity of the laughter. It felt like I hadn’t laughed this hard in years. “You—” I attempted to say but was interrupted by Anastasia’s face buried in her hand, her body shaking with laughter.

I paused, recognizing the pure joy in the moment. It was nothing but gentle, kind, joy, and it reminded me why I kept opening the door to the girl who never rang the bell.

“I can’t believe you cut up pineapple to spell ‘sorry,’” I finally managed to say, letting my head roll back to gently rest on the wooden base of the island.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

“I tried to look up the best apology food, but that’s not like a thing, and it kept redirecting me to this website where this fruit delivery service can do this.

They had this fruit in a bouquet on the website, but I only had the pineapple on the counter. ..”

I shook my head in disbelief and scooted over on the ground, patting the spot next to me. “Get down here and bring that cut fruit.”

She shook her head, but grabbed the container and joined me on the floor.

I held out my hand. “Well, give it to me.”

She held out the container, and I picked up the s and took a bite of it.