Page 44 of Breakaway to You

“You’re probably just not used to seeing it down,” she said, almost like she was trying to help me out.

“Yeah.” I shoved my free hand into my pocket. “Do you want to sit for a bit?” I asked, nodding over to the seating area next to the shelves lined with books and succulents.

“Sure.”

I let out a breath of relief at her agreement as we headed over to a table, taking a seat.

I took a sip of my coffee before I asked, “So, any fun plans for your day off?” That was a much better question. I mentally patted myself on the back.

“No, unfortunately,” she sighed. “I’m dress shopping today for the gala.” She took a sip of her coffee. “What about you? Are you gearing up for the charity gala like Coach Hill demanded?”

I let out a huff of laughter. “Yep. Unfortunately, I have to go tux shopping today. Or, I should say, tuxrenting. I don’t need to own a tux. I’m not exactly a ‘fancy event’ kind of guy.”

“Really? I pegged you as someone who’d love the attention,” she teased lightly.

I smirked, shaking my head. “Nah. I go, do my part, smile for a few pictures. It’s not my thing, but it’s for a good cause.”

“Same. I’ll mostly be there because the team expects it.” Piper paused before her eyes went wide. “You’re not bringing a date, are you?”

My lips quirked up at the corner. “I wasn’t planning on it. Don’t you think it would be weird if I showed up with another woman after you and I kissed in front of the whole team?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Yeah, if the team thinks we are dating, you probably shouldn’t bring a real date.”

I leaned back in my seat. “No. No real date.” I swallowed looking down at my coffee, focusing on the warmth heating my hands instead of how I literally had no one to bring. “I’m going alone.”

Her head tilted to the side, a look of surprise mixed with confusion. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Why does that surprise you?”

She shrugged, looking down at her coffee. “I figured you’d have a line of women waiting to go to the charity gala with you.”

I suppressed a smile. “There is no line. And if there was one, I wouldn’t be interested.”

She looked up at me. “Oh.” Her eyes brightened at my statement, and I wondered if she liked my answer. “And no family you want to bring with you?”

Her question was innocent, a natural continuation of where this conversation would go. A lot of people who didn’t bring a date would bring a family member or two. She didn’t have any idea that her question had hit a sore spot I usually tried to ignore. Instead of brushing it off with a simple no like I would have with anyone else, I found myself wanting her to know more about me.

I shook my head, my gaze drifting to the steam curling up from my coffee. “Don’t have any. My parents bailed when I was a kid. Left me with my grandma.”

My blunt answer probably came from a lack of talking about it, but how else could you tell someone that you had been abandoned as a child—and keep all emotion out of it? Bullet points seemed like my best option.

I didn’t need to see her face. I could hear her surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” A few moments of silence passed before she continued. “That must’ve been hard,” she said gently.

I couldn’t seem to look at her. “Yeah.” My voice was quiet. “My grandma wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, either. She raised me, but she never let me forget I was a burden. Always made it clear she didn’t want to be stuck with me.”

Quiet hung in the air between us, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt safe, somehow. Like she was patiently waiting for me to continue if I wanted to, like she was waiting for me to choose how much I wanted to share.

“When I started playing hockey, it was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere,” I admitted. “The rink became my home. The team…they were my family. Still are, I guess. But teams change. Guys get traded. Retire. You learn not to get too attached.”

Silence greeted me once again, and I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes. I felt naked, vulnerable…embarrassed.

“Zeke…”

I waved her off, my usual smirk reappearing like a mask. “It’s no big deal. Just the way it is.”

She didn’t look convinced. She reached across and placed her hand on my arm. “If there is one thing I’ve learned about you in the past several weeks, it’s that there’s more to you than being a hockey player,” she said softly. “And you’re not as alone as you think.”

My eyes flicked to hers, something unreadable in their depths. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the noise of the coffee shop fading into the background. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. Was she suggesting that our relationship was more than just therapist-patient, that there was more to our fake dating? I was feeling something for her that I wasn’t used to, that I couldn’t even seem to put a name to, but maybe I was overthinking it, and all she meant was that we were friends. She was a friend I could count on.

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