Page 75 of Mr. Charming

“Seriously?” I can’t mask the hurt in my tone. She did all that so that I would stay away? Does she really hate me that much? “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” She turns and walks down the street.

I don’t follow, still processing. She and Decker were never a thing? She did it all because she wanted me to stay away from her? It takes me a minute to get it… she didn’t do it because she was afraid of me or because she hates me. She did it because she feels what I feel.

I jog to catch up to Tedi, but when I reach the next corner, I can’t find her. I turn right and then left and then straight. She couldn’t have gotten far.

I smile because this entire time I thought I had no shot, but maybe I was wrong. And I’d like to thank Decker for being a shitty fake boyfriend who didn’t pick her up from the airport, so now I know where she lives.

There’s no hiding from me now, Tedi. We’re far from over.

Thirty-Five

Tedi’s Journal Entry

Three years ago

Ford Jacob’s Retirement Party, Florida

* * *

To my older self,

* * *

Oh, Tedi, we’d never been so scared in all our life—we had to see Tweetie again tonight. Ford was the first one to retire from the Florida Fury. He’s a trust fund baby, so he won’t be hurting. I am surprised, though. I thought he had a lot more years to go. I don’t know why I’m rambling on about Ford after everything that went down with Tweetie. I’m sorry, but we caved for a hot second, but don’t worry, we’re back on track without him. Please read this again whenever you need a reminder that Tweetie Sorenson isn’t the one for us.

* * *

Ford’s party was in full swing, although it wasn’t anything like the parties we all used to attend. Instead, there were kids running around with sticky fingers and cake all over their faces. It was just another reminder that I wasn’t in the same place in my life as they were. That my future had stalled out years ago and not seemed to get back on track.

I was anxiously waiting for Tweetie to walk through the door. I knew he and Ford were still close. That’s what happens when you’re roommates with someone for the years they played together. Still, I wasn’t sure if he would show tonight. Although he’d proven Jana and Kane wrong, knowing him, he’d want to be here to rub it in their faces a little. He’d gone to Nashville, healed, and returned to the ice stronger and faster than before, becoming the leading scorer on his team. And Nashville had won the Cup this year.

I hated to admit it, but I was looking forward to seeing him. Sure, our breakup wasn’t great. Are any? But we didn’t separate because we didn’t love each other. We split because we loved each other and couldn’t make it work and kept hurting each other.

After we’d been apart for about a year, we had an awkward run-in at Ford’s daughter’s birthday party, and he requested to follow me on my socials the following week. I accepted and followed him back. We hadn’t texted or called, but I was so happy for him when Nashville won.

I walked up to the bar to get a refill on my wine, and Mr. Gerhardt, Jana’s dad, was there getting a scotch.

“Mr. Gerhardt,” I said, placing my tip in the jar. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded and smiled. His eyes scoured the immediate area, as if he was looking for someone.

“That’s great.” I sighed. “For me, it felt like it was over when Tweetie left, but now that Ford is retiring…”

It was like the end of an era. The team had ridden high, and although players were leaving and new ones would come, there was something special about those years. This event had taken me on a long trip down memory lane, and I was feeling particularly vulnerable.

“Have you talked to him?” he asked, clearly not afraid to broach the subject.

“Not really. We’re Instagram friends and sometimes we DM one another, but that’s about it. He seems happy in Nashville, though.” Although I missed Tweetie a lot, time does start to heal, even if it’s just to take the edge off the pain so you can carry on.

“Good. Is he coming?” No sooner was the question out of his mouth than Tweetie walked in.

My back stiffened. His blond hair was longer, and the beard he’d grown all season until Nashville won the Cup two weeks ago was now shaved off. He looked stronger, healthier, and a force to be reckoned with. I watched as Tweetie searched the room, and when our eyes collided, a slow, easy smile formed on his lips.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gerhardt,” I said in a whisper, already heading toward Tweetie.

We broke the distance at the same time, but as soon as we got closer, we fumbled and stumbled into one another with a hug that probably looked as awkward as it felt.

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