Page 50 of Price of Victory
I told myself I was being ridiculous. We’d only been together for a few months. People broke up all the time, moved on, found other things to fill the spaces their ex-partners had occupied. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to get through the day without wondering where he was, what he was doing, whether he was dealing with his family’s crisis alone.
The thought of him facing those reporters and board meetings and shareholder demands without anyone to come home to made my chest tight with guilt. Whatever else had happened between us, whatever trust had been broken or wordshad been said in anger, I knew him well enough to understand how much he hated the performative aspects of his family’s world.
Tuesday blended into Wednesday, which bled into Thursday. I went to classes and practice and meals with my teammates, participating in conversations and laughing at jokes like everything was normal. But it felt like I was watching my life from outside my body, going through it while some essential part of me remained suspended in that moment when Aiden had looked at me like I was a threat instead of a partner.
Lennox finally cornered me Thursday evening, blocking my path to the door as I tried to escape another team dinner early.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” he demanded, crossing his arms and giving me the look that only a friend could get away with. “You’ve been walking around like a zombie for days.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. You’re about as fine as a car wreck. And don’t tell me it’s stress about school or hockey because I know what that looks like on you.”
I considered lying, making up some story about family pressure or academic overload. But Lennox knew me too well, had been my roommate for long enough to see through any deception I might attempt.
“Just working through some stuff,” I said finally.
“What kind of stuff? The kind that involves a certain transfer student who’s been mysteriously absent from practice this week?”
My stomach dropped.
“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and I’m not asking for details. But whatever it was, it’s clearly eating you alive.”
“We ended things,” I said, the words feeling strange and final in my mouth. “It wasn’t working out.”
“Right. And that’s why you look like someone kicked your puppy.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Most good things are.”
“Not this complicated.”
Lennox studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him weighing his words carefully. “You know, sometimes the complicated stuff is worth fighting for. Especially when it’s something that makes you as happy as you’ve been these past few months.”
“I was happy?”
“Jesus, Rhett. You’ve been walking around like you won the lottery for weeks. Humming under your breath, showing up to practice with actual energy instead of your usual pre-coffee zombie shuffle. Whatever was going on with you two, it was good for you.”
The observation hit harder than I’d expected. Had I really been that obvious? Had everyone on the team noticed the change in my mood, the way I’d been lighter and more present since Aiden and I had started spending time together?
“Sometimes good things end,” I said quietly.
“Sometimes they do. But sometimes they just hit a rough patch and need some work.”
“This is more than a rough patch.”
“If you say so. But for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen you care about anyone the way you obviously care about him.”
I wanted to deny it, to insist that whatever I’d felt for Aiden had been temporary, surface-level, nothing that couldn’t be gotten over with time and distance. But sitting there in the hallway outside the dining hall, with Lennox’s knowing gaze fixed on my face, I couldn’t bring myself to lie.
I did care about him. More than I’d ever cared about anyone, in ways that scared me with their intensity. The thought of himdealing with his family’s scandal alone, of him facing cameras and questions and corporate vultures without anyone to hold him up afterward, made me feel physically sick.
But caring wasn’t enough. Trust was the foundation of any real relationship, and if he couldn’t trust me with the difficult parts of his life, if his first instinct when things got complicated was to shut me out, then what kind of future could we really have?
“It doesn’t matter,” I said finally. “Some things can’t be fixed.”
Lennox looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him to let it go. “Okay. But if you change your mind, if you decide you want to try fixing it, I’m here. We all are.”
