The days melt into weeks, and the weeks blossom into April.
With finals around the corner, students on campus exchange their parkas for short sleeves, and the Guardians are right on the cusp of making it to the playoffs, which fuels the intensity of the entire team.
I’m lucky to catch glimpses of Rhode in person rather than on a screen with his hectic schedule, but I do have a drawer at his apartment, and he keeps a toothbrush in my bathroom. Our relationship is quickly spiraling from casual to serious, and the thought of saying goodbye is terrifying.
I can feel myself falling into the abyss of love.
The distance does nothing to dampen my feelings for him. If anything, it makes me yearn for more nights spent cuddling in bedsheets.
Rhode’s a secret snuggler.
I call his massive body my personal space heater, and he rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying not to smile because I’ve memorized all the nuances of him.
Nights aren’t all I crave, though. I want Rhode’s Saturday mornings and all the mundane moments in between, but the only thing I get most days is his sleepy smile on a screen.
I stare at him enough that I can draw his chiseled features with my eyes closed, but he’s gone so much that the sound of his laughter is fading from my memories. I desperately want to remember the smoky timbre for when our lives veer in opposite directions.
I lurch up from the bar stool, screaming at the giant TV on the brick wall. “Come on, that was a penalty, ref! Are you sleeping? Open your eyes!”
“Hey!” the bartender shouts, flicking a towel over his shoulder. “No yelling in my bar. How many times do I have to warn you, Alstyne? I’m kicking you out if it happens again.”
“If you want me out, you’ll have to throw me out, Bart,” I say to the gray-haired bartender, who only ever smiles at his seven-year-old son. “This game decides if they’re going to the playoffs. It’s a big deal for my boys.”
My boys.
He grumbles to himself behind the counter, pulling one of the sixty beer taps for a customer. The man’s harmless. He’s all threats and no follow-through.
I settle onto the wooden stool. Ever since Gwen and I stumbled into this place, Blue Line Brews has become our go-to spot to watch Guardian’s games when I can’t be there in person, which is what happened today since I had an exam.
The old-time bar has five exits, wide open picnic tables, and an array of nonalcoholic beers, so I can actually relax. I’ve been wanting to bring Rhode here, but he’s been busy training, which is good.
Every kiss from him is charting a pathway to my heart, and it’s scaring me how attached I’m growing.
I’ve been spending every hour cramming for finals that I may as well live in the library. On top of that, I still have to finish my speech for The Peaceful Mind Project, which I’m dreading. Honestly, just thinking about standing up there, trying to sound intelligent and inspiring, has me chewing my nails.
On the screen, Rhode drops down into butterfly, making another save. I clap my hands, whooping. “Hell yeah, that’s my man!”
Gwen leans over my shoulder, sipping her grass-green beer that’s a leftover flavor from St. Patrick’s Day. She’s always trying random things to be different, but it must not have sold very well since St. Paddy’s Day was weeks ago.
“So, how have things been going with you two?” she asks. “I feel like you’ve turned into his biggest fan.”
I’ve been trying to cover my feelings with jokes or sarcastic comments, but there’s one thing I realized after tossing in bed all night since Rhode wasn’t there—I’m falling hopelessly in love with Rhode Tremblay.
It’s horrible, really, but I can’t stop. All these little moments have piled up. Every smile, every late-night phone call, every time he won or lost a game and wanted to talk with me, each hug, the laughter, all the times he didn’t walk away when I pushed.
Love is made with little moments, and we have enough to build a castle.
I’m not going to have some deep over-the-top confession in the middle of a brewery that smells like malty hops, so I make a flippant comment. “Oh, you know, I’m completely in love with him, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so that’s great.”
Gwen splutters out her green beer. A droplet lands on her cashmere sweater. “I’m sorry, what? You’re joking, right? I can’t tell. Or are you actually in love with him? Wait…” She peers closer, and her smile turns sympathetic. “Oh no, you are in love with him. It’s all over your face.”
“Yeah, I know.” I take a swig of my alcohol-free beer. It tastes like oats, but it’s what Rhode always drinks, so I’m giving it a shot. “It was naive to think I wouldn’t fall for him. How could I not, Gwen? He’s this sweet, funny, insanely talented hockey player who makes me cross-stitches. Of course I was going to fall in love with him.”
“Yeah, I know. You were doomed the moment he stepped into your car.”
“Oh, and last week, when I had that issue with my passport, Rhode helped me call the office and stayed on hold for hours, Gwen, hours. He’s the first person I want to tell every good and bad thing to and all the little things in between.” I groan. “I even got a tattoo for him. How pathetic is that?”
She hisses a breath. “Please tell me you didn’t get his name tattooed on you. I’ll look up removal places if you did.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not his name, but I’m not telling you. It’s private.”
I’m hoarding that mistake like a secret. It’s something I can make up a meaning for, but that’s what I get for walking into a tattoo parlor all blissed out on an orgasm after Rhode blindfolded me, tied me to his headboard, and made me come so hard I forgot my middle name.
Now, he’ll be imprinted forever on my body.
Gwen peers at me in my periphery, but I keep my eyes on the hockey game. “You sound… oddly okay with all of this?”
My throat burns, so I take another sip of beer. It doesn’t quench the ache. “No, I’m not okay, but I have to be because there’s no alternative. There’s nothing I can do about the fact that I’m in love with him. The only person I have to blame is myself because he’s never once led me on. He’s always been upfront about what he wants.”
“What’s that?”
“Marriage. A family. Kids. I could be that person if I were older, but I’m not in a place to sacrifice my dreams. I’d never ask him to give up what he wants either, and he’s going to renew his contract, so this ends when I leave.”
We aren’t destined, but that’s okay.
The idea of fate bringing two strangers together is a pretty one, but love is stronger when it’s a choice. Rhode will find his perfect match and get the perfect house with the perfect life, and it will all be so perfect. My scoff blows a piece of hair off my forehead.
I hope the woman he ends up with is absolutely nothing like me. Maybe I’ll meet some Argentinian Alfarero—a potter who can only communicate through kisses since we don’t speak the same language. Nausea churns at the thought of someone who isn’t Rhode, but this way, even if my heart breaks, I won’t.
“You realize how many women would kill to be in your position right?” Gwen asks. “I’d give up my career for that man. Let him fund your life.”
“Well, he’s not your man, he’s my man.” I bristle in annoyance because that doesn’t even come close to Rhode’s depth.
“I didn’t fall in love with Rhode Tremblay, Nashville’s Naughtiest Bachelor. I fell in love with the man who makes me cross-stitches, and always makes sure I have an aisle seat. The man who drives forty-five minutes to buy decaf beans from my favorite roaster. The man I spend more time staring at on a screen than I do in person because he’s gone so much,” I mutter, sipping my beer. “I hate being in love with a professional athlete. I never see him.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” She wraps her arm around me, and instead of pulling away, I rest my cheek on her slender shoulder. “What are you going to do about it?”
I swallow around the giant lump that’s taken permanent residence in my throat. “It’s getting to be too much, so I’ll probably end things soon, and then fuck my way through Argentina.”
“That sounds really unhealthy.”
“Yeah, it’s a horrible coping mechanism, but it’s the only one I’ve got. It’s going to hurt no matter what, but I need to break my own heart before he does.”
The idea of ending things makes it feel like something’s dying in my chest, but I’ll survive. I always do.
I shift my gaze back to the TV. Eighty-Eight looks like he’s getting ready for a breakaway, but at the last second, Micah intercepts the puck. I cheer and then sink back down onto the wobbly stool.
Gwen twists the napkin on the bar counter, spinning it around like a whirling thought. The Guardians almost score another goal before she says anything. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to get mad?”
I keep my focus locked on the screen so I don’t miss anything. “No, I can’t promise that until I know what you’re going to say, but if it’s bothering you, you should tell me anyway.”
“You’re going to hate me again,” she mumbles.
That comment has me glancing her way. She’s staring into the depths of her green beer like she wants the murky liquid to swallow her. “What is it?”
“What a rocket!” the announcer shouts. “Look at that puck fly!”
I whip my gaze to the screen right in time to see Rhode block the shot. The bar erupts into raucous cheers. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Woo! Go, Tremblay! Did you see that, Gwen? Okay, sorry. Got distracted. What were you saying?”
She squeezes her eyes closed, inhaling the hoppy-scented air, and my stomach coils tight. The only time I’ve seen her this nervous was when she kept hiding her relationship with Isaac.
“Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it because you love him, and this has been eating me alive… I might’ve kissed Rhode once when I was wasted, but it was before you met him,” she blurts. “It meant absolutely nothing, I swear. He pushed me away and didn’t even kiss me back, but I asked him not to tell you because we’d been doing so well, and I didn’t want to make you upset.”
I blink, trying to process her confession. “You… kissed him?”
She looks at her beige nails. “Yeah, it was the night that tire popped. Isaac and I had a massive fight about… Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I was mad, so I walked up to the first hot stranger I saw and kissed him.”
I crumple a napkin in my hand as I imagine them in some smoky bar, shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. Anger tinged with jealousy bolts through me like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s a hundred times worse than when I walked in on her with Isaac.
“Please tell me this is a fucking joke, Gwendolyn.”
She has the audacity to look guilty but quickly reaches for my arm. I yank my hand away before she can touch me. “It’s not, but I swear he never kissed me back, and I don’t feel anything for Rhode. Nothing, and honestly, Nina, even if I did, that man looks at you like you’re the only star in the sky. I would never ever do anything to jeopardize our relationship again. I promise.”
“Obviously you feel something if you kissed him.” I throw a hand out and accidentally knock over my glass of beer onto the wooden floor. “Can you not let me have one thing?”
I scramble down to pick it up. “Why are you always like this? You take everything. If it’s not Isaac, it’s Rhode. If it’s not my nail polish, it’s my shirt. You’re even wearing my earrings right now.”
“Alstyne!” Bart yells. “Tone it down.”
“Sorry, Bart. We’re in the middle of a very heated argument.”
“Well, un-heat it.”
Gwen’s green eyes blur with tears. “Nina, it’s not like that at all.”
“Right. Of course you don’t think it’s like that because you get everything. The perfect life. The perfect job. The guy. Fucking everything,” I spit out. “Do you get some vindictive satisfaction out of this? Is that it?”
“Nina, please,” she pleads, gripping my arm. I snatch it away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It didn’t mean anything, and I would never want you to feel that way.”
“That’s what you said last time, Gwendolyn. I can’t keep giving you second, no third, chances.”
“Ladies and gentlepeople,” the announcer says, cutting through my crimson haze. “We’ve got a concerning turn of events here. It appears that Rhode Tremblay, the backbone of the Guardian’s defense, has been injured on the ice. Play has come to a halt, and the medical staff is rushing to his aid. Let’s hope it’s nothing serious, and he’ll be back on his feet soon.”
A chill cracks through my body like ice splintering on a frozen lake, submerging me in dread. Whipping my head to the screen, I watch as a team of medics run onto the ice. The view turns blurry.
Why can’t I see?
I swipe at my eyes, and water glistens on my fingers. The play’s stopped, so no one’s skating.
Even the crowd in the bar is quiet.
I cover my hands over my mouth in a silent scream as the medical team hovers over Rhode, but I can’t see him beneath the bodies.
No. No. No.
I can’t see him.
I need to see him.
My heart throbs in my ears, and I can feel the panic rising as gut-wrenching terror swells. A wave of dizziness rolls over me, and I grip the table so I don’t faint.
The anxiety is always there, lurking, but I can’t afford to lose my shit if he’s hurt. I’m barreling through the door out of the bar before they’ve even carried him off the ice.
“Nina, wait!”
“I’m not staying here, Gwendolyn.” My voice shatters. “I need to be with him.”
“I know, but you ran out so fast that you forgot your backpack. Come on, I’ll drive you.”
