As I strip off my gear, I catch sight of Jaylynn across the room. She’s got her arms around Penn, laughing about something, and for reasons I can’t even explain, it hits me like a punch. That small, innocent hug twists something deep in my chest.
She’s the team’s PR manager and it’s her job to be here, yet, that simple show of affection reminds me of what’s missing. Of who’s missing.
Rowyn.
The thought of her slams into me out of nowhere, like it always does. She’s everywhere and nowhere at once—under my skin, in my head, between every breath I take. And it’s starting to get dangerous.
How much longer are we going to pretend this is just for fun? She’s not pushing to end it, and God knows I don’t have the strength to call it quits either. But every time I think about her leaving—about her maybe ending up with hot coffee shop guy—I feel this sharp, ugly ache in my gut.
I tell myself it shouldn’t matter. She’s free to do whatever she wants. We both knew the rules going in. No strings. No promises. Just heat, just escape.
She never did respond to my statement about what she wanted in life—family, kids, that white-picket-fence life—but I can’t ignore the truth I heard in her voice when she first denied it was what she wanted. That her work was everything. But if she does want it, deep down, I know I’ll never be that guy for her.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Still, the thought of her with someone else—someone safe, steady, unscarred—makes my chest tighten.
You can trust her, dude.
Yeah. I can. I trust her with my body, trust that she’s not trying to snag herself a hockey player. I wouldn’t have taken her to my bed without protection otherwise. I’ve seen too much of what happens when trust is just a setup. Hell, I’ve lived it.
The memory still stings—finding out too late that the woman I’d dated through high school had her own agenda. That I almost built a life, had a family, around a lie.
Family.
The word slices through the haze, sharper than it should be. My pulse kicks up as I head for the showers, the noise of the room fading behind me. Ember tricked into believing I was going to be a father once. And when that illusion shattered, so did something inside me.
Maybe Rowyn is right, though. Maybe there’s a part of me that still wants that—someone to come home to, a kid’s laughter in the background, something real. Maybe the reason I can’t stop thinking about her is because she feels like the piece of me that I didn’t even know I was missing.
I turn on the shower, hot water pounding my skin, but it doesn’t wash away the weight sitting heavy in my chest.
Christ. We won the damn game. I should be celebrating.
So why does it feel like I’m losing something I never really had?
“Hey, coming out for a drink?” Brady’s voice cuts through my thoughts, yanking me back to the present.
I shrug, trying to seem casual, but my chest feels heavy in a way that’s hard to mask. “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired, and I’ve got interviews.”
“If you change your mind, we’ll be in the hotel lobby bar,” he says with a grin, leaving it there.
I scrub off the sweat and adrenaline, trying to shake the ache that won’t leave me. Once I’m clean, I make my way to the interview room. Questions fly, cameras flash, reporters scribble notes. And then, almost like magic, someone asks about my… ‘reporter’.
I freeze, a grin tugging at my lips before I can stop it. Talking about Rowyn lights something up inside me I can’t quite contain. Her laugh, her touch, the way her lips felt—every thought sends a thrill through me.
After the interviews, I board the bus. The guys are scattered, lost in phones or quiet chatter. It’s late, and I don’t want to wake Rowyn. She spent the day babysitting Gina’s kids and will be up early again. We’re not a real couple, and while we agreed to talk when I’m on the road, it’s too late for that. If we were a real couple, maybe it would be different.
I glance at my phone, fingers hovering over her contact. I want to know how the babysitting went. I know they’d have adored her. And maybe—just maybe—it’ll give her a glimpse of what she really wants, what life could be if she stopped living a life her mom built for her, and started living for herself.
I set the phone down, my reflection ghosting across the window as we drive through Edmonton’s streets. The city lights blur into streaks of yellow and white, but my mind isn’t on the skyline. It’s on her. Always her.
When we reach the hotel, I start for the elevator, but Gunther catches me, looping an arm around my shoulders and steering me toward the lobby bar. “One drink won’t hurt,” he mutters. “You look like you need it.”
I slump onto the barstool beside Brady. He signals for pitchers and some food, then leans in, voice low. “Something on your mind?”
I shrug, trying to appear unconcerned. “Just tired.”
“No wonder. You killed it out there tonight. Keep that up and we’ll be taking home the cup.”