Page 130 of The Assist
I nod, already tapping it open.
I read your message. Every word. I felt it in my bones. I’m still scared. Still trying to be brave. But I needed you to know I miss you. And I’m proud of you. I’ll be in touch soon. M xxx
I read it three times before I can breathe again.
Murphy peers over my shoulder, then slaps my back. “There she is.”
I tuck the phone against my chest like I’m afraid it’ll disappear. “She read the message I sent her.”
“Sheheardyou.”
The cold knot in my chest finally starts to thaw a little. Just enough. I don’t know what’s coming next or what Mike will decide, or what the league will do for that matter. But I know this, she’s stillwithme.
And that’s enough.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
MIA
The kettle clicks off and I stare at it like I’ve forgotten what I got up for. Tea. That’s what I came into the kitchen for. Something warm, something comforting, something to wrap my hands around while my thoughts unravel like threads pulled loose from the hem of a too-tight dress.
I pour the water into the mug, watching the colour bloom from the bag, but it’s all background noise. The real storm is behind my ribs.
Dylan’s message is still open on my phone.
Every time I read it, it breaks me a little more, and stitches me back together at the same time. Like he poured everything he couldn’t say to my face into those words. I could hear his voice in every line. That low, gravelled voice when he’s trying to keep it together. The pauses. The honesty. The ache.
I miss him so much, it’s making me stupid.
I take the mug into the living room and curl up on the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around me even though the heating’s on. It’s not cold, I’m just feeling hollow. Like I lost something essential when I left him at the rink. When I leftus.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call. Sophie.
“Hey,” I answer, already bracing myself.
“You’ve gone radio silent,” she accuses immediately. “I had to hear fromMurphythat you haven’t been at the rink. What’s going on?”
“I needed some space,” I say softly. “It’s been a lot.”
“No kidding. You and Dylan are basically a live-action romance novel and the whole internet is foaming at the mouth. Are you okay?”
I hesitate, then sigh. “Not really.”
“Talk to me.”
I pause. Then everything tumbles out. “I went to Mike. Told him I needed time off. He didn’t argue. Said it might be best, given the circumstances. And then I showed him everything I’d found. About the clause. About how it doesn’t apply to contracted staff in the same way as club-employed medical personnel. I even brought receipts and logs and everything, Soph. He didn’t say anything. Just told me to take a couple of weeks.”
Sophie whistles. “And then you left?”
“Yeah. Drove here with my stomach in my throat the whole way.”
“Christ, M.”
“It’s not just the job,” I admit. “It’s Dylan. The way they’ve talked about him. Aboutus. Like I’m some distraction and he’s some cliché. He’s not. He’s so far from that.”
“I know,” she says gently.
“I love him,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to. I fought it every step of the way. But I do.”
