Page 91 of Faking It For Real

"Interesting that you know what Dylan says." Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Accidental run-in at the coffee shop? Psychic connection? Ouija board?"

"He texted me," I admitted. "Said he was sorry about everything and that Ethan hasn't been the same since the party."

"And how do you feel about that?"

I stared into my tea, watching the steam curl upward. "Confused. Hurt, still. But also... I don't know. I saw it in the photos from the semifinals. He was playing like a machine. All the technical skill was there, but the joy was gone." I looked up at her. "I did that to him."

"Whoa, hold up." Olivia raised both hands. "You did notdoanything to him. He made choices. He prioritized hockey over being honest about his feelings. He hesitated when Vanessa called him out. Those are all on him, not you."

"I know, but—"

"No buts. You are not responsible for Ethan Wright’s emotional state or his robot hockey playing." Her voice softened. "That said, it's okay if you still care about him. It's okay if you want to forgive him. Just don't do it because you think you somehow broke him. Do it because you want to."

I nodded, taking a sip of tea. "I do care about him. That's the problem. I can't just switch it off, no matter how much I want to."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet." I set the mug on my nightstand. "I need time to think."

Olivia stood, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Fair enough. I'm here if you need to talk. Or if you need me to egg his car. Or, you know, whatever else best friends do in these situations."

After she left, I picked up my phone, checking it for what felt like the hundredth time that day. No new messages from Ethan, which was both a relief and a disappointment. He was giving me the space I'd asked for, at least.

There was, however, a new email notification that made my heart skip:

From: Samantha Rivers

Subject: Your Photography Portfolio

I opened it with trembling fingers:

Dear Ms. Navarro,

I recently became aware of your work through a mutual connection. Your hockey emotion series, in particular, has been brought to my attention as something exceptional. I'll be visiting your university next week and would be interested in speaking with you about your portfolio and future goals.

Sports Illustrations is always looking for fresh perspectives, especially those that capture the human elements of athletics. If you're available, perhaps we could meet to discuss potential opportunities.

Best regards,

Samantha Rivers

Photography Director, Sports Illustrations

I stared at the screen in disbelief.Sports Illustrations. The Photography Director. Wanting to meet with me.

And "through a mutual connection"—that could only be Ethan. He'd kept his promise, even after everything.

My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia:Someone's at the door for you. Thai food and apologies, apparently. Want me to tell him you're out?

I took a deep breath, tucking the letter under my pillow. Maybe this was a sign. Or maybe it was just Ethan being Ethan—honoring commitments, tying up loose ends before moving on to finals and his NHL future.

Either way, I deserved to hear what he had to say in person.

No, I texted back.Tell him I'll be right out.

In our small living room, Ethan stood awkwardly holding bags from my favorite Thai restaurant. He looked terrible—exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his usually perfect hair disheveled. He was wearing a simple gray t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual team apparel, making him look somehow younger and more vulnerable.

"Hi," he said softly when I appeared.

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