Page 91 of Offside for Christmas
Mac found her twenty minutes later, still sitting at her desk, staring at nothing.
"El?" He closed the door gently. "You okay?"
"He's leaving. He accepted the LA offer. He's leaving on Christmas Eve."
"Shit." Mac sat down heavily. "Did you talk to him?"
"No." Her voice was hollow. "I pushed him away, Mac. I told him to go. So he's going."
"Then stop him."
"How? Show up at his apartment and beg? Tell him I was wrong, that I'm terrified but I love him anyway? What if he doesn't care anymore? What if I hurt him too much?"
"What if you didn't?" Mac leaned forward. "El, you won't know unless you try. And yeah, maybe he tells you to fuck off. Maybe he's too hurt to listen. But at least you'll know you fought for it."
"I don't know if I can."
"Then you've already lost." Mac's voice was gentle but firm. "And Cole isn't the only one leaving. You're leaving too—the person you were when you were with him. The person who took risks and let herself be happy. Don't let fear steal that from you."
After he left, Ellie sat alone in her office and made a decision.
She couldn't stop Cole from leaving. But she could give him back his reputation. His cleared name. His future without the cloud of the bar fight hanging over him. She wrote Sarah Chen. Just two words.
ELLIE:GO AHEAD
Even if he never forgave her for not fighting hard enough to make him stay.
Sophie called at noon the same day. "You need to see this."
"See what?"
"Just come to the bakery. Now."
When Ellie arrived, her parents' bakery window had a new display. Someone had built a gingerbread replica of her PTroom. Complete with tiny gingerbread people and a sign that read "Best PT in Vermont."
"Cole did it," her mother said, appearing beside her. "Came in at 6 AM. Worked for three hours. Wouldn't take any payment. Said he owed you a Christmas you'd actually remember."
Ellie's throat closed up. "He leave for LA."
Her mother's smile faltered. "What?"
"This is a goodbye." Ellie shook her head. "He's leaving, and this is his way of saying goodbye. Making sure I remember him fondly or whatever." She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back tears. "God, it's so like him. Grand gesture right before he walks away."
"Ellie, honey, I don't think—"
"He took the job, Mom. He's going to LA. And he made me a gingerbread clinic so I wouldn't hate him for it." The tears came now, hot and fast. "It's beautiful and thoughtful and I hate it. I hate that this is how it ends."
Sophie appeared at her side, putting an arm around her. "Els—"
"Don't." Ellie wiped her face roughly. "Don't tell me it'll be okay or that maybe he'll change his mind. He made his choice. The NHL. Like they all do. Like I knew he would."
She stared at the gingerbread clinic—the tiny windows, the carefully piped snow on the roof, the little gingerbread version of herself standing in the doorway. He'd spent hours on this. Hours making something beautiful to remember him by.
"I should thank him," Ellie said, her voice hollow. “I think—”
"Ellie—" her mother started.
But Ellie was already walking away, vision blurred with tears, unable to look at the gingerbread clinic for one more second without completely breaking down in the middle of Main Street.
