"And Max?"
I release a slow breath. "He’s moving… tomorrow, I think." My voice cracks on the last word.
"Sade, have you considered that maybe you’re supposed to be together?"
"Mallory, don’t." Of course, I’ve thought about it. My entire drive to Golden City was spent with tears running down my face, and I haven’t slept well in almost a week. But it’s not possible.
"I’m just saying, sometimes instead of doing what your brain tells you, maybe you need to listen to your heart." She sucks in a breath noisily. "Maybe that was what Beth was trying to tell you."
I stare at the book lying on my lap, and memories from the past month hit me. Every page of this thing is directly linked to him—every memory tied to our time together. In the end, it may have just been busywork—a distraction from my problems—but it brought me closer to him.
"In a perfect world, you’d probably be right." I close the book on my lap, running my hand over it thoughtfully before tossingit aside. "But he deserves this opportunity. I can’t take it away from him."
"Then go with him! Get your head out of your ass, Sadie. I’ve never seen you happier, more alive than when you were with him."
Tears streak down my face at her words. There’s only one problem with what she’s suggesting.
"He didn’t ask me to."
6 Hours Earlier
"Thanks for coming back." Levi holds the door to the conference room open for me, and I step around him into the hallway. "We never would have found everything you did."
Nodding, I smile softly at him and Alex. "Of course, I love my job. I’m grateful I was able to help."
"How did he take it?" Alex asks, sympathy etched into her expression.
"Uh…" I blow out a heavy breath, then bite the inside of my cheek to stave off any chance of getting emotional. "It was fine. We both knew what it was."
"Are you sure? I saw the way he looked at y—"
"I’m sure." My face heats and a lump forms in my throat. "I’m just going to take a walk. I’ll be in my office if you need anything."
I turn and leave, walking away from them as quickly as I can without it being obvious that I’m running off to cry alone. Winding around the arena, I slink into one of the suites. It’s dark but secluded enough that no one will find me here.
There are a couple of stuffed leather chairs, and I curl into one of them, bringing my knees to my chest. Looking down at the glossy ice, I feel small compared to what we do here. Insignificant.
How long has it been this way?
Maybe this is how I’ve always felt—maybe this is the reason I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at, why I’ve sacrificed everything. I’ve always thought that if I could just make a name for myself—if I could be successful—then everything else would fall into place. But that’s not true. None of it matters when you’re alone.That’swhat Levi wanted me to learn.
I’m not sure what makes me move, but the realization that this wasn’t all for nothing sparks something inside me. There’s a lot that has happened, some things I can’t take back or change. But for the first time in days, I feel the fog beginning to lift.
Exiting the suite, I turn in the direction of my office. I’ve walked the halls here millions of times, and I’m pretty sure I could find it blindfolded and three sheets to the wind at this point. But, for some reason, I spend my time really soaking it all in, from the pictures on the walls to the fresh coat of paint that must’ve been done recently. I pass the coaches' offices, the locker rooms, and the shooting bay. The social media director's office is up ahead, followed by mine and Alex’s directly across. Light seeps out from under her door—they are either just as bad as I am at work-life balance or she forgot to turn it off.
Shaking my head, I approach the door and raise my fist to knock. But my eye catches on the handle of the door next to hers.
What the fuck?
Dangling from the round silver knob—jammed into the lock—isthekeychain. I glance both ways down the hall, checking my surroundings before bending down to look at it. The keychain is the same flat diamond shape, and when I turn it over, it’s got the same inscription: JBI.
I take a step back, moving until my spine crashes into the wall behind me. My breathing is ragged, and my heart races. Slinking to the floor, I press the palms of my hands into my eye sockets.
You’re making this up. You’ve had very little sleep, and this is just a mirage.
Taking a deep breath, I blow it out slowly, attempting to calm myself down. Uncovering my eyes, I stare at the door as if that will somehow tell me what the fuck is going on. But when I do, my vision catches on a small silver nameplate fastened to the wall. It looks just like mine and all the others.
Springing up, I take two steps back toward the door and read it: Johan Berg-Isaksson.