Page 56 of Offside for Christmas
Ellie studied him for a long moment, and Cole could see the war happening behind her eyes—wanting to protect herself versus wanting to take the risk.
"Right now, I'm here."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't even close to what he wanted to hear. But it was something, and Cole found himself holding onto it like a lifeline.
"Good." He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. "Because this is the best meal I've had in years. And it's not just because of the pasta."
Ellie's smile was small, but real. "Your grandmother would be proud. The food really is incredible."
"She'd probably say I'm still doing it wrong. Not enough garlic, or I didn't let the sauce simmer long enough, or—" He stopped, the familiar ache of missing her settling in his chest. "She'd find something to criticize. But she'd be smiling while she did it."
"She sounds wonderful."
"She was." Cole squeezed Ellie's hand once before letting go, needing the contact but not quite able to hold on. "She would'veliked you. Would've said you were too good for me, probably. Would've been right."
"I'm not too good for you." Ellie picked up her fork again, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "I'm just... cautious."
"Scared."
"Same thing."
"Not really." But Cole let it drop, because pushing would only make her pull further away, and he couldn't stand the thought of that right now.
They finished their meal with lighter conversation—Ellie telling stories about her PT patients, Cole reluctantly admitting that Evergreen Cove's Christmas decorations were growing on him—but underneath it all was the unspoken truth.
This thing between them had an expiration date. And neither of them knew how to stop the clock.
They moved to the couch after dinner, settling close together in the small space. More wine. More talking. The walls between them coming down brick by brick.
"Can I ask you something?" Cole said, his arm draped along the back of the couch, not quite touching her shoulders but close.
"Sure."
"When you dated Marcus—did you—love him?"
Ellie was quiet for a moment, considering. "I thought I did. But looking back, I think I loved the idea of him more than the actual person. The romance of it—following someone, being the supportive girlfriend, building a life together. I loved the fantasy. The 'us' I imagined. Not necessarily the reality."
"And when he left?"
"I was devastated. Completely shattered." She turned to look at him. "But also... relieved? Like I'd been playing a role that didn't fit. Being someone I wasn't. Someone smaller, quieter, less myself."
"Who are you?" Cole asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't know. I'm still figuring it out." Ellie pulled her feet up onto the couch, tucking them under her. "I thought I had it all planned—stay here, work with the team, help my parents with the bakery, be the good daughter who never leaves. But lately I've been wondering if I stayed because I love it here, or because I was scared to try anything else."
"You don't strike me as scared."
Ellie laughed softly. "I'm terrified. All the time. I'm just really good at hiding it behind schedules and organization and being needed."
"Me too," Cole admitted.
"What are you scared of?" Her voice was gentle. "Besides me?"
"Besides you?" Cole took a breath. "Being ordinary. My whole life, I was the kid who was going to make it. The one who'd get out of that neighborhood, be somebody, matter. And if I'm not a hockey player..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
"Then what?" Ellie prompted softly.
"Then I'm just some guy. Nobody special. Just Cole, not Cole Hansen the former NHL player. And I don't know how to be that person. I don't know if I'm anything without hockey."
