Page 42 of Playoffs & Promises

If this is going to be the last time I see her—and I truly hope it is—there are a few things I need to say. Regret and guilt swirl in my gut, mixing with the worry that I might mess things up with Maria if I don't get clarity.

Her sobs stop when she sees me approaching. "Lou?—"

"That game was the worst of my career," I start, my voice rougher than I intended. "A torn ACL and a concussion so bad I don't remember most of that day. Waking up in the hospital, being told over and over what happened... But the worst part? Having my sister tell me that my girlfriend dumped me because I didn't remember it happening."

She reaches out a hand, almost like she wants to comfort me, but I recoil, the gesture too little, too late.

"Was I that bad of a boyfriend? I know I don't work a nine-to-five, and I missed a lot of weekends with your family, but I could've?—"

"No," she cuts me off, shaking her head. "It wasn't any of that. I couldn't handle seeing you hurt."

"What?"

"You're constantly bruised, cut up from fights on the ice. That game… you went down, and you didn't get back up. They wheeled you off, and I couldn't go with you. The doctors wouldn't tell me anything, and by the time I saw you, you had tubes, bandages… I had to get out of there. I couldn't handle seeing you like that."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. All this time, I thought I'd done something wrong. But it was fear—her fear of seeing me hurt—that drove her away. I let out a slow breath, the weight of her confession settling in.

"Have a nice life, Carrie," I say, my voice firm but not unkind. "I hope it's the life you deserve."

With that, I turn and walk away. There's a beautiful woman I need to see before tonight's game. A woman who makes me feel like I'm more than just a hockey player, like I'm more than enough just as I am.

The next day, I wake up much later than usual. The celebration after winning our game stretched late into the night. My head is still buzzing with excitement as I reach over to pet Cinnamon, but she's not on the bed next to me. I listen for her, but it's quiet, suspiciously so. Panic sets in as I jump out of bed and rush to find her. Because she is my dog and I will be very upset if anything happens to her.

When I burst into my living room, I find Hannah and a few of my friends lounging around like they own the place. My sister is happily eating her favorite double chocolate muffin, even as she ignores the puppy dog eyes from Cinnamon. A good thing too, because we'd be having words if she fed any of it to Cinnamon.

Dan, grabs my shoulder and steers me to the couch beside my sister.

Hannah smiles, "I was taking my good friend and her reluctant bodyguard to try my favorite chocolate muffins this morning, and do you know what I found?"

"Muffins?" I ask dumbly, just to annoy her, since she's keeping me from Maria. If I can't annoy her, what's the point of being her older brother?

She glares, "Dan."

A hand slaps me in the back of the head.

"Ow." I rub the spot where he hit me, and shoot him a glare.

"Lots of long lines first off." Hannah continues, "Because some dumb hockey player decided to broadcast the name of it all over the morning news."

I can't help but grin, proud of myself for giving Maria the recognition she deserves for the incredible work she does.

"It took me over an hour to get inside," she grumbles. "Then I found that not only Lia, but Charlotte too, took the day off from the salon to help at the bakery. But they were still running around like crazy. Then I pulled up the social media pages," She shakes her head like it's a Shakespearean tragedy, and points at her laptop sitting on my coffee table, logged into the bakery's social media.

"Oh no, you have to do what you love doing," I tease.

Hannah only has to look at Dan, and I feel a slap to the back of my head once more. "I had to take over, so instead of being able to show Susannah around the city, I'm working."

"Stop that," I tell him. "Do you want me concussed for the next game?"

He looks at Alexis, and she says, "Give him a break."

"You played great last night." Dan holds up a hand for a fist bump. "Scored the winning goal."

"Yeah, well, luck had nothing to do with it." I say, still rubbing my head.

Hannah clears her throat, her expression serious. "What did you do to Maria?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I say, a pit forms in my stomach.

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