Page 94 of Icy Pucking Play

"No, it's fine. You're right." She straightens her shoulders. "Professional is better. Safer."

The word hits like another punch.

"I…"

"I'll have the new draft on your desk tomorrow. Very objective. Very...distant."

The way she says it makes my chest hurt.

"And after that?" I find myself asking.

"After that?" She laughs, but it sounds wrong. Wrong in a way that makes me want to take everything back. "After that, I'll do what I should have done from the start. Stay away from your family. From you."

"It's better this way," I say, but the words catch in my throat.

"Is it?" She starts backing toward her car. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like we're both losing something that could have been...everything."

She drives away before I can respond, leaving me standing alone in a parking lot that suddenly feels too empty.

My phone buzzes.

Sophie:For what it's worth? I meant what it said. All of it. Especially the part about falling in love with you.

I start typing, delete it, start again.

Finally:I know. That's what scares me.

But I don't send it. Because some fears are safer than the alternative. Even if the alternative might have been everything. Even if...even if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life.

I know I'm letting fear win. Letting Clark win. Letting the past destroy my future.

But knowing that doesn't make it any easier to be brave. To trust. To love.

Even if that's exactly what I want to do.

Chapter 24

Sophie

"You look like hell," Brad announces as I drag myself into the office the next morning.

"Thanks. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

"Just being honest." He wheels his chair over to my cubicle. "Though not as honest as that new draft you submitted."

I wince. "You read it?"

"Everyone read it. It has zero heart."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Sophie." He picks up a printout. "'Ryland Daniels demonstrates adequate skill development under the mentorship of his uncle, Chicago Blades goaltender Evan Daniels’. Adequate? Really?"

"It's neutral."

"It's soulless." He throws the paper down. "What happened to the real story? The one about family and second chances and—"

"That story's dead." I start up my computer, avoiding his eyes. "This is better."

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