Page 184 of The Fine Line
I glance over my shoulder, eyes burning. “Everything’s the same as it’s always been.”
I turn away, letting the door close behind me.
Everything from there until I arrive at the Storm headquarters is a blur. My vision is sharp, but my focus is gone. I barely remember parking or walking in.
I make a beeline to my desk, but a voice interrupts me near the coffee bar.
“Hi, Caroline.”
I look up. Linda is pouring cream into her coffee. Amy from HR stands beside her.
“I was just about to schedule a chat with you,” Linda says, cheerful. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, and we thought maybe you and Rhett could do something fun for PR. A video before the game, or maybe a segment during intermission?”
I nod slowly. The absurdity of her words barely registers.
“I actually needed to talk to you too,” I say.
Linda raises an eyebrow.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it—” Amy starts.
“Actually,” I interrupt, voice steady. “Amy, I think you should stay.”
forty-five
RHETT
Chicago, IL, USA
She stayed at the office all day, not walking back through the door until fifteen minutes before we had to leave for the airport. Then she stayed quiet the entire car ride. Kept her headphones on the whole flight. Went straight to her own hotel room once we got to Chicago and didn’t say a word to me about it. Didn’t answer the door when I knocked last night or this morning. Didn’t answer my calls. Didn’t reply to any of the dozen texts I sent her.
And I know exactly why.
I’m an idiot. I went against her wishes. I was greedy.
She asked me to wait. I promised her I would. But I couldn’t. I felt it building for so long—and the last two months, hell, the last two years—it’s been there, simmering.
And this morning, when I saw her—cheeks flushed, hair still tousled from the night before, blue eyes glassy with sleep—I just couldn’t holdit back.
I told her I loved her.
And now I think she hates me.
I fucked it up. Because I’m not good at taking instruction. Because I’m not good at waiting for the things I want. Because I’ve never had the willpower to just take a little. I took it too far, just like I always do.
Now I have to fix it. If she’ll let me.
She’s managed to dodge me all day. But now we’re at the Chicago arena. And if searching for her with every flicker of movement in my peripheral vision wasn’t already making me antsy, being back in this building has my pulse spiking through the roof.
It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been. Or how many games I’ve played since. Every time I walk through these doors, see the sea of red, step onto this ice, and come face to face with my past—I’m right back in it. Right back in the worst version of myself.
I always need her. But especially now. Especially today.
I need her to anchor me. To remind me I’m not that guy anymore. That I’m more than the kid who nearly burned his whole life down in this very building. That I’m capable of more. That someone can believe in me.
Anyone.
But she’s the one who matters most.
