But it’s only when I’m gazing into his eyes that a realization I should have seen coming from a mile away hits me with the force of a runaway train.

  I’m in love with him.

  Somewhere along the way, between the long days and even longer nights, I developed feelings for Alex. Despite my better judgment, I love him. I love his unfaltering kindness, his sense of humor, his talents in the kitchen and the bedroom. Not to mention those eyes and that smile.

  I swallow a lump in my throat. This is not the kind of realization you want to have when faced with a deadline of returning to the real world. If I plan on telling him how I feel, I have to do it . . . like, now. But there’s no way I’m ready for that. Am I?

  While I debate that, my cheeks heating with my uncertainty, I realize that the new me—the post-breakup, freshly empowered Aspen—is a lot braver than I’ve ever been before.

  I chew on my lip, running through the pros and cons in my head.

  Pros? He might feel the same way, and we could start officially dating back in the city. We’d work out the complicated things (cough, cough, Eden), and start a life together.

  Cons? My throat tightens. There are so many. Like, maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. My confession ruins our friendship, and we never recover. I live with the shame of developing feelings for my boss’s ex-boyfriend. I live with the disappointment of yet another rejection. My barely healed heart breaks into a thousand more pieces. The list goes on and on.

  “. . . and I’ll probably swing by the brewery and pick up a six-pack of that grapefruit IPA we like.”

  When I resurface from my whirlpool of self-doubt, Alex is smiling at me, endearingly clueless to the earth-shattering revelation I’ve just had. He takes a sip of his coffee, now at a drinkable temperature. I gulp down my own, trying to swallow all the confessions threatening to escape my throat and ruin everything.

  “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you today.” My voice feels tight but sounds relatively normal, given how close I am to imploding.

  “How about you?”

  “I’ve got a report to finish for Eden, so I may get a head start on that. I may also wait until I’m back in the office and just try to enjoy these last few days before everything goes back to normal.”

  Alex nods in agreement. “I vote for the latter. You deserve to take some time to relax.”

  “You do too,” I say with a soft smile. “You’ve got a whole season waiting for you just around the corner.”

  “True.” He smirks into his coffee.

  Ever since he got back from his trip to New York, Alex has seemed a little more excited to return to the life of a professional athlete. My own complicated feelings aside, I’m happy for him.

  The question falls from my lips before I can decide what I’m really asking. “Have you given the season any thought?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, uh, like, how are you feeling about it all? Going back?”

  Alex frowns, turning the question over in his head. “Kind of like what you said. Everything’s just gonna go back to normal, right? Business as usual.”

  My heart clenches painfully. “And that’s a good thing?”

  “Yeah. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

  Well, that settles it, doesn’t it? There’s no way this man shares the same feelings for me as I do for him. He doesn’t want to rock the boat and pursue things at home with me. Business as usual. The last thing I want is for everything to go back to the way it was, whereas, going “back to normal” seems to be a top priority for him.

  Maybe he’s just talking about hockey. Maybe I’m reading into it, looking for an excuse to do the cowardly thing and protect my heart. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought I did.

  “How about you?” Alex blinks at me, cocking his head to the side.

  I don’t want things to go back to normal, because “normal” means that we go back to being strangers. I don’t want to lose you, Alex. I’m in love with you.

  I hear the words so clearly in my head, but I can’t say any of that. When I open my mouth, I’m not sure what will come out.

  “Me too. Can’t wait to get back into the swing of things.”

  I’m not sure what we talk about after that, since all my focus is devoted to the single task of not crying.

  Before he leaves to run errands in town, Alex pulls me into the kind of hug that is so comfortable and familiar, I almost lose it right then and there. I manage to pull away without letting a single tear fall, but not before memorizing the smell of him through his hoodie. Man and mint soap.

  Upstairs, I watch through the bedroom window as he climbs into his car and drives out of view down the road. And that’s when the dam breaks. With stinging eyes and hiccupping sobs, I let myself fall apart. I collapse onto the bed and bury my face in his pillow.

  This hurts so much. Why can’t he see how perfect we’d be together?

  I can’t let Alex see me like this. And there’s no way I can endure the next few days of pretending he’s just my friend-with-benefits. With no other choice but to flee, I rise to my feet and blow my nose. Then I get to work.

  Tearing around the room, I toss my clothes, shoes, and toiletries into my suitcase. I know it’s premature, not to mention immature, but every atom in my body is screaming at me to run. So I shove all traces of my summer stay into my suitcase, erasing any evidence that I was ever here at all.

  I yank the festive moose ornament from its spot on my windowsill and shove it in my purse. I gather all the spa gifts Alex got me for my birthday from their spot on the floor next to the clawfoot tub. I snatch up the book I’m still reading from the living room windowsill—the book I was planning on finishing before I left the cabin. I roll up my yoga mat on the deck and tie it haphazardly to my suitcase. Each item I pack away is accompanied by a montage of memories starring the man I fell for despite all logic.

  God, I’m such an idiot. He was right to push me away after that first night.

  Just as I’m about to roll my suitcase out the door for the very last time, I pause.

  I can’t leave without any explanation. Alex will think something’s happened to me, or worse, that he did something wrong. I don’t want to explain to him that I couldn’t cope with my unrequited feelings, but I need to leave him a note. Sniffling, I wipe my wet cheeks dry with the back of my hand.

  Once I find a scrap of paper in a kitchen drawer, I settle in to write my good-bye letter—no, that’s too dramatic. It’s just a note, like a GONE FISHING sign or a BE BACK IN FIVE placard. Except I won’t be back.

  I chew on my raw lip. With an unsteady hand, I write:

  Alex,

  I decided to head back to Boston a few days early. I got a lead on an apartment I really like, and I want to see it in person before it gets snatched up by someone else. Just wanted you to know that I wasn’t kidnapped or anything.

  Thank you for your help with the cabin this summer. I’ll see you when the season starts—I know it’s gonna be a great one.

  Aspen

  I lay the pen down and turn in a slow circle, trying to memorize the place that has brought me so much peace and purpose this summer, right when I needed it the most. Wearing a smile tinged with sadness, I roll my suitcase out the cabin’s front door and lock up for the last time . . . leaving a few thousand pieces of my heart inside.

  21

  * * *

  ALEX

  “You sure you don’t want to come?” I asked Aspen one last time as I lingered in the kitchen before heading to town.

  She shook her head, glancing at me over one shoulder. “That’s okay. You go ahead. I’m going to finish a few things here and call my mom back.”

  I nodded. There was something different about her tone, but I let it go. “Okay. I won’t be gone long. Text me if you need anything.”

  She nodded, and then I gave her a long hug.

  I didn’t want to leave—even to drive into town for shed supplies—since we were down to our final days together, but I also needed to pick up a few bottles of wine and some more condoms to replace what I’d taken from Saint. Plus, I wanted to get Aspen something special as a gift. But what to get her? A T-shirt from a gift shop doesn’t exactly scream thank you for all the tender care, all the awesome sex, all the laughs we shared this summer.

  But now when I return, the house is quiet. Wandering through each room, I look for Aspen. Not finding her inside, I head for the glass doors.

  “Babe?” I call out, peeking outside onto the deck. A bird chirps back at me, but otherwise it’s silent.

  I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach the master bedroom, I pause. It’s empty. The bed is neatly made, and all her bags are gone. A deep, stabbing feeling radiates through my chest.

  What the hell?

  I never expected Aspen to be gone when I returned. She didn’t say anything about taking off, but she’s left, and not just to run an errand. She’s gone back to Boston without saying a damn word. Why?

  When I find a note from her downstairs on the kitchen island, I pick it up with shaking hands. After reading it twice, I’m still confused.

  I thought what we shared meant something. Yeah, it was short term, but it was meaningful, wasn’t it? Or was I just some rebound fling like she said she wanted at the beginning? I thought we’ve grown, turned into something that would transcend this place. We didn’t talk about how it would work yet with my season, or with my ex being her boss, but they weren’t insurmountable things. We could have figured them out. Or so I thought.

  I grab my phone and consider calling her. But what will I say without sounding like an emotional mess? Or worse, a pissed-off asshole? I thought I deserved way more than just some three-line see ya later note, but I guess I was wrong.

  Aspen’s rejection feels like being punched right in the insecurities. Sure, I lost Eden, but that was my fault. I’ve learned a lot about myself since our breakup. I actually am a relationship guy. And now I know I’d like nothing more than a good woman waiting for me when I get home from away games. A woman to share home-cooked meals with me. Spending mornings laughing in bed and sleeping next to her all night, without having to worry if she was going through my phone or planning to take a selfie with me to sell to the tabloids.

  But just like I always do, I managed to fuck it all up. I don’t know how, but I know I did. Because Aspen’s not here, and I’m alone.

  Again.

  22

  * * *

  ASPEN

  After I insisted I could handle move-in day by myself, Eden and Holt were determined to find another way to help.

  That’s how I ended up with a bunch of free furnishings for my apartment, either donations from their personal collection or straight-up brand-new gifts. I squeeze against the wall on the first-floor landing so the larger of my two helpers can carry up a small but hefty table that I offhandedly said I liked when I was still staying with them.

  “Thank you,” I say meekly as Holt passes by me.

  “You got it,” he says with a nod, disappearing up the second flight of stairs and rounding the corner to enter my new apartment. It’s not a big place, but a one-bedroom with central air and a combo washer-dryer unit suits me just fine.

  My new full-size mattress arrived this morning, compressed into a cardboard box seemingly manageable enough for one person to move. But when I try to lift it by myself, I only end up red-faced and sore. Eden jogs down the steps, looking like an athletic-wear model with her long blond hair tied up in a high ponytail and her fit figure wrapped in comfortable but flattering workout clothes.

  “Need a hand?” she asks, and I nod with a heavy sigh. Together, we lift the box up the stairs, taking breaks along the way as needed.

  Propping the box against the stairway wall, I say through panting breaths, “I can’t thank you enough . . . for helping me out. I just wish . . . I’d found a place that wasn’t so . . . so hard to get to.”

  Eden waves the comment away with her hand as she sucks in a deep breath. “Don’t even. It’s smart to be on an upper floor. Less chance of someone breaking in through the window, you know? As a woman, I respect it.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” I chuckle a little numbly. I’ve never lived on my own before, so everything feels new. There are plenty of reasons to be freaked out about living on my own, so what’s one more to add to the list?

  By the second landing, we’re laughing breathlessly at ourselves for attempting this feat.

  “Can I help you with that?” Holt hefts the box into his capable arms before either of us can catch our breath long enough to answer.

  Eden rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips reminds me of what a good match the two of them are. Not only are they both drop-dead gorgeous, but they’re also a highly intelligent pair, complementing each other in wit and work ethic. Basically, they’re perfect together.

  My chest tightens painfully behind my oversize T-shirt. I miss Alex. A lot. Even more than I thought I would.

  It began on the car ride back to Boston, while listening to the radio. An old country love song came on, reminding me of him and his ridiculous singing on the way back from town that one day. Then that memory brought along even more memories of my birthday, of the lake, all our shared meals—not to mention the countless physical moments, from innocent cuddles to . . . well, all the rest of it.

  The truth is, in the weeks since I left the cabin, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him and our summer of bliss, try as I may to distract myself with work and the move. I’ve even begun to question leaving the cabin while he was out on an errand, days before we were both due to leave. It was impulsive. And thinking back, maybe I should have just talked to him. Opened up and admitted everything.

  When everything is upstairs, I spend a few minutes shuffling some new furniture around the apartment. Once I’ve moved a couple of end tables in the living room and shifted a small bookshelf to the bedroom, my place starts to look a lot classier. When I rejoin them, Holt and Eden are sharing a water bottle in the kitchen. My ears perk up when I realize they’re talking about the team.

  “They’ve all been checking in, one by one. Everyone’s on their way back from wherever the hell they went this summer,” Eden says with a wry smile. “You wouldn’t believe where Saint went.”

  “The Cayman Islands?” Holt says, and we all laugh, knowing that could very well be true.

  “The Vatican.” Eden emphasizes every syllable, and my eyes go wide with disbelief.

  Holt chuckles, incredulous. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “I’m shocked he didn’t burst into flames as soon as he set foot anywhere near a church,” I say, earning a generous laugh from the couple.

  I’m cracking open a water bottle for myself when Eden says, “Even Alex checked in.”

  My hands freeze on the plastic, all the blood in my body rushing into my reddening cheeks. I guzzle down the water until the bottle is totally empty, feeling a little light-headed. When I look back at Eden and Holt, they’re both staring at me.

  “Oh yeah?” I say, my voice cracking. I wipe some stray drops of water from my lips with the back of my hand.

  A totally insane thought occurs to me. Did Alex tell Eden about our summer fling? He wouldn’t, would he?

  Eden nods. “Yeah, he texted me yesterday.”

  Do I jump through the window now, or what?

  “What did he say?” I ask, trying my best at nonchalance.

  She shrugs, using air quotes. “‘Back in town.’ I don’t even get a full sentence from the man these days. Friggin’ typical.”

  Relief trickles down my spine as excitement curls in my belly.

  Back in town. Those three words thrum through my veins. Odd to hear the news from Eden and not from the man himself, but it makes sense. I didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms, so it’s not like he’d text me about his whereabouts.

  Even if we’re back to being strangers, I knew deep down that Alex wouldn’t break my trust and tell Eden about our summer. Discretion was a major component of our arrangement. Alex is a good guy, despite Eden’s grumblings. He wouldn’t sabotage either of us like that.

  “Anyway,” Eden says, “can we help you unload some of . . .” She gestures vaguely around the apartment. “This?”

  I don’t have a lot of stuff, but unpacking will take an embarrassing amount of time. I’m kind of a perfectionist when it comes to my stuff, as little as there is, and everything has to have its proper place. I wouldn’t subject my worst enemies, let alone my friends, to that level of micromanaging.

  “No, you’ve helped me enough already. I don’t think I have the energy to dive back into it right now, anyway. Can I order us a pizza or something?”

  Holt and Eden exchange one of those we’re a couple so we can communicate with our eyes looks before Holt says, “That won’t be necessary. We have dinner reservations later. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “And this is for you.” Eden holds out a gift bag that clearly contains a bottle of wine. Knowing her, it’s an expensive one. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

  “Are you kidding? I consider all of this a housewarming gift.”

  “Well, this one you can drink.” She shoots me a playful wink.

  I accept the bag with a grateful sigh. “You guys are the best. Seriously, I don’t know how I could have done it without both of you.”

  After we swap sweaty hugs and promises to see each other at work on Monday, I watch them make their way down the stairs. My eyes linger on Eden’s hand, which rests comfortably between Holt’s shoulder blades. For the first time in a while, I let myself feel joy for them and their happiness, not just jealousy of what they share, even if it is a constant reminder of how alone I really am.

  My phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s my mom, checking in to see if now is a good time to chat.