Page 64 of Breakaway to You

I hesitated. Between the fake dating and the real kisses, I wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“Um…technically, no.”

Crew’s eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a smirk. “Technically?”

And so, I started from the beginning. I told him about our first interactions together, about Jordan being her ex, how I had thought I was coming to her rescue by pretending to be her fake boyfriend, about how we’d kept up the ruse at the bar, about the kiss, about the texting and the dinners at my place, the charity gala, and how Holden had walked in on us kissing in the therapy room. Then ended by telling him how she’d been given a warning and that we’d decided to cut off any interactions between us to keep her job safe.

He was silent for a moment before finally saying, “You’ve been stingy on our phone calls.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, well, you know I don’t like to talk about my feelings.”

“I get that.” He tilted his head slightly as he studied me. “So, you don’t know if you should accept the Wolves offer and continue playing the game you love, or if you should decline the offer so you can be with the woman you love?”

I let out a slow breath, my shoulders sinking under the weight of it all. “That’s correct.”

Crew didn’t say anything right away. He just watched me, his expression unreadable, as he uncrossed his arms. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “What has you so scared?”

“I just…” My throat worked around the words. “I don’t know who I am without hockey,” I said. “It’s all I’ve ever had. It’s the only thing that’s never left me.”

Crew’s expression softened. “I used to think that too. That hockey was my anchor. That as long as I had the game, I didn’t have to feel the rest of it. The loneliness. The fear of building something real and losing it. But you know what I learned?”

I glanced at him, waiting.

“Hockey was never what made me happy. It was just the thing I hid behind because I didn’t feel safe enough to want more.” He hesitated. “You can love the game, Zeke, but it can’t love you back. Not really. Not the way people can.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Yeah, well, people leave.”

Crew huffed a laugh. “And teams trade you, coaches bench you, and sooner or later, your body tells you it’s time to hang ’em up. But love?Reallove? That’s not something you run from just because it might not last forever.” His voice gentled. “You don’t have to use hockey as a shield anymore. You don’t have to prove you belong by playing through the pain or pretending you don’t care if you get traded again. You belong just by being you.”

I looked down at my hands, something raw and unfamiliar scraping against my ribs.

“You deserve to be happy,” Crew said, softer now. “Not just in a jersey. Not just under the lights. But in the quiet moments. With someone who sees you. Not Zeke the player. Zeke the man.”

A sharp breath punched through my lungs. I thought of Piper—the warmth in her eyes when she looked at me like I was more than just a hockey player. Like I wassomeone.

“What if I don’t know how to do that?” I admitted, my voice low.

Crew smiled. “Then you do what you do when you first step out onto the ice before a game. You take a deep breath,” he said. “And you give it your all.”

I released the breath I was holding, the weight in my chest shifting.

Maybe, just maybe, Crew was right.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

And start living.

Chapter25

Piper

After the last player left the therapy room, I began cleaning up and wiping down all the equipment in an effort to keep my mind occupied. I had sent my two assistants home early, wanting to be alone, and the silence was actually comforting.

The Wolves had made it to the second round but had lost their game tonight, ending our road in the playoffs. I had mixed emotions about it. Obviously making it to the end and winning the Stanley Cup would have been amazing, but the hidden blessing to our season being over was that I wouldn’t have to see or keep trying to avoid a certain player for the next couple months.

The past few months had been a type of torture I hadn’t known existed. Trying not to look at him when my eyes naturally gravitated to him and could easily find him in a crowd. Trying not to reread all our text conversations every night before I went to bed. Trying not to remember the kisses we’d shared. Trying not to remember how quickly he could make me smile. Trying not to be jealous that Jill got to do his therapy sessions with him. Trying not to wonder if he was missing me as much as I was missing him.

The only time I let myself fully embrace my obvious Zeke obsession was when he was playing a game. I could stare at number twenty-seven all I wanted, and no one would suspect I was anything more than just a regular fan.

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