Page 94 of Left-Hand Larceny
I pushed too hard. Too fast. She was clear in her boundaries. Just friends, nothing more, and at the first hesitation, the first hint she might change her mind, I snapped her up like I’d been searching for the moment.
I’d give her anything. My body. My silence. My distance.
Even if it breaks something open in my chest, something I won’t be able to re-close, I can let her go.
If walking away is what she needs to breathe easier, I’ll hold the door open and thank her for the window of time I had to love her. Even if it kills me slow. Because loving her—really loving her—means putting her first. Always. Even when it shatters me in the process.
I also haven’t seen her all practice.
Usually, she pokes her head out at some point. Watches our last drills from the edge of the hallway like she’s just passing by. Sometimes I catch her leaning against the doorframe, scribbling something on her clipboard while she waits for me to make eye contact.
Not today.
The rink feels colder without the warmth of her smile.
We’ve just wrapped up our third preseason win. I should celebrate. I’m three for three shutouts—a statistical improbability—a social media post that went viral to Tristan’s delight, and came with a surge of support that still overwhelms me every time I check the comments. But instead I’m pacing the bench with a half-empty water bottle, pretending I’m thirsty so I don’t do something dumb like check the rehab room. Again.
Tristan’s waiting by the tunnel, tapping on her phone with one heel hooked behind the other. She’s probably here for Vic, but she looks up as I pass.
“Hey,” she says. “You good?”
I nod. “Y-yeah.”
She eyes me. “You look moody.”
I don’t answer, just look her straight in the eyes. She chuckles and shakes her head.
“Did something happen with Sadie?”
I hesitate.
Tristan lowers her phone. “You two didn’t fight or anything, did you?”
“N-no.”
“Okay, so what’s going on? Because she’s been all off-balance lately. You’re not answering her stats questions, so she’s bugging me and I’m shit at math. She’s pretending like you don’t exist. And I know you do. So…”
She’s asking Tristan for help with school? I press a hand to my sternum to release the pressure there.
I exhale through my nose. “I d-don’t want to t-t-talk about her b-behind her b-back.”
Tristan raises both brows. “Respectful. Noble. And completely useless to me as her friend.”
I give her a tired look.
She sighs. “Spags didn’t give me details, but I saw him walking Christian out of the gala. And after everything I do know about that guy… I figured it wasn’t pretty.”
My jaw clenches, but I say nothing.
“You okay?”
“I’m n-not the o-o-one h-he hurt.”
Tristan’s quiet for a beat. “He was never physical, as far as I know. But he was… strategic. In how he made her feel small. Controlled. Like she owed him.”
Something tightens in my chest. “She doesn’t o-o-owe a-anyone anything.”
“I know that,” she says. “But I’m not sure Sadie does. And she’s kind of the one who matters.”
