Page 57 of Price of Victory
I wanted Rhett. I wanted Sunday mornings and terrible coffee and conversations that lasted for hours. I wanted someone who challenged me to be better and held me when the world felt like too much to handle. I wanted to build something real with someone who saw me as more than just a Whitmore heir.
The question was whether I was brave enough to try to get it back.
And whether he’d give me the chance to prove that I could be the person he’d deserved all along.
TWENTY
RHETT
The icebeneath my skates felt different tonight, sharper somehow, like every stride was cutting through more than just frozen water. I surged forward with blazing fury, the puck dancing on my stick as I approached the Arctic Titans’ defensive line. Griffin and Andrei, both freshmen who shouldn’t have been able to stop a senior with my experience, but as I tried to slide between them like a knife through butter, their wildly intuitive partnership caught me off guard.
They moved together like they could read each other’s minds, anticipating every shift and turn with a synchronicity that reminded me painfully of how Aiden and I had been playing lately. Back when we’d been together, before everything fell apart, we’d developed that same telepathic understanding on the ice. I could anticipate his moves before he made them, could set up plays that he’d execute with precision that made our coaches shake their heads in amazement.
But that was before. Before the accusations and the broken trust and the two weeks of silence that had settled between us like a chasm I couldn’t cross.
I lost the puck to Griffin’s stick and had to skate hard to recover, my breath coming in sharp puffs that crystallized inthe arena’s cold air. The Titans were playing better than they had last season, when we’d kicked their asses so thoroughly that Phoenix had looked ready to throw his stick across the ice in frustration. Tonight, they were coordinated, determined, and hungry for revenge.
But so was I. Every check I delivered, every shot I took, every play I made was fueled by the rage and heartbreak that had been building in my chest for two weeks. The rage at myself for walking away, the heartbreak of missing someone so completely that everything else felt hollow and meaningless.
We won, eventually. The final buzzer sounded with the score 4-2 in our favor, and my teammates erupted in celebration around me. I watched them hug and jump and shout with joy, their faces bright with the satisfaction of victory, but all I could taste was ash.
This should have been perfect. A solid win against a tough opponent, another step toward what could be a championship season. But without Aiden there to catch my eye across the ice, without him there to share that moment of triumph, it felt empty and hollow. Like winning a game in an empty arena where no one could hear you celebrate. Like playing a gig to which no one came and no one clapped.
I went through the motions in the locker room, accepting congratulations and participating in the usual post-game analysis, but my heart wasn’t in it. When Easton suggested we all head to Lumière to celebrate, I almost bailed on them. The last thing I wanted was to sit in our usual spot and pretend everything was normal when nothing would ever be normal again.
But Lennox gave me that look, the one that said he was worried about me and wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I found myself walking across campus with the rest of the team, my gearbag slung over my shoulder and my stomach churning with the effort of pretending I was okay.
Lumière was packed with students with long faces, looking for a brief escape from the looming exam season. Our usual table was waiting for us, and soon, we were surrounded by pitchers of beer and plates of wings and the comfortable chaos of a team that had just secured another victory.
I sat in my usual spot and tried to focus on the conversation flowing around me, but my attention kept drifting to the couples scattered throughout our group. Easton sat close to Jace, their fingers intertwined on the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. Elio and Jaxon were sharing some private joke that made them both laugh, their heads bent together in comfortable intimacy. Patrick had his arm around Shane’s shoulders, and Lennox kept checking his phone for texts from Oliver.
They all looked so happy, so complete, like they’d found the missing pieces of themselves and clicked them perfectly into place. And here I was, having rashly thrown away the one person who’d made me feel that way, all because I’d been too proud to trust that what we had was real.
I reminded myself that trust was supposed to be the foundation of any relationship. If Aiden 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 maybe I’d been right to walk away.
But even as I told myself that, his absence physically hurt. It was like someone had carved out a piece of my chest and left the edges raw and bleeding. Every laugh from my teammates felt too loud, every sip of beer tasted like sand, and I found myself glancing at the door every few minutes like I was expecting someone who would never come.
I was lifting my beer to my lips when I saw him.
He was standing in the doorway, backlit by the dim glow of the streetlamps outside, his head cocked to one side in that gesture I knew so well. Even from across the crowded bar, I could see the longing in his eyes, the unfiltered fear that made him look younger and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him.
My heart stopped, then started again at double speed.
“Where the hell has he been?” Patrick growled, following my gaze to where Aiden stood frozen in the doorway. “We needed him for tonight’s game.”
“What’s he doing here?” Lennox asked quietly, leaning closer to me so only I could hear.
“I don’t know,” I said, though my voice came out rougher than I’d intended.
“Are you okay? If you want to leave, I’ll leave with you.”
I shook my head, unable to look away from Aiden’s face. He was staring directly at me, and even across the crowded bar, I could see the pain and hope and desperation written in every line of his expression. Then he jerked his head toward the door, a subtle gesture that only I would understand.
My heart leaped, then immediately crashed back down as understanding hit me. This was a goodbye. He’d spent nearly two weeks away from the team, from college, from my life. He’d been with his family, who’d brought him up to speed on their plans, who’d prepared to crown him the heir prince of their media empire. Now, he was here to say goodbye before he stepped into that life permanently.
By all rights, I shouldn’t do this to myself. I shouldn’t follow him outside and let him rip my heart out all over again. But as Aiden turned and stepped back into the night, my heart leaped anyway, and I found myself hurrying after him before I could think better of it.
The December air hit me like a slap across my face, sharp and cold enough to make me shiver despite the adrenaline stillcoursing through my system from the game. Aiden was standing just a few steps away from the bar’s entrance, positioned in a pool of yellow streetlight that made him look ethereal and somehow fragile.
