* * *

  Ford’s party was in full swing, although it wasn’t anything like the parties we all used to attend. Instead, there were kids running around with sticky fingers and cake all over their faces. It was just another reminder that I wasn’t in the same place in my life as they were. That my future had stalled out years ago and not seemed to get back on track.

  I was anxiously waiting for Tweetie to walk through the door. I knew he and Ford were still close. That’s what happens when you’re roommates with someone for the years they played together. Still, I wasn’t sure if he would show tonight. Although he’d proven Jana and Kane wrong, knowing him, he’d want to be here to rub it in their faces a little. He’d gone to Nashville, healed, and returned to the ice stronger and faster than before, becoming the leading scorer on his team. And Nashville had won the Cup this year.

  I hated to admit it, but I was looking forward to seeing him. Sure, our breakup wasn’t great. Are any? But we didn’t separate because we didn’t love each other. We split because we loved each other and couldn’t make it work and kept hurting each other.

  After we’d been apart for about a year, we had an awkward run-in at Ford’s daughter’s birthday party, and he requested to follow me on my socials the following week. I accepted and followed him back. We hadn’t texted or called, but I was so happy for him when Nashville won.

  I walked up to the bar to get a refill on my wine, and Mr. Gerhardt, Jana’s dad, was there getting a scotch.

  “Mr. Gerhardt,” I said, placing my tip in the jar. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “Good.” He nodded and smiled. His eyes scoured the immediate area, as if he was looking for someone.

  “That’s great.” I sighed. “For me, it felt like it was over when Tweetie left, but now that Ford is retiring…”

  It was like the end of an era. The team had ridden high, and although players were leaving and new ones would come, there was something special about those years. This event had taken me on a long trip down memory lane, and I was feeling particularly vulnerable.

  “Have you talked to him?” he asked, clearly not afraid to broach the subject.

  “Not really. We’re Instagram friends and sometimes we DM one another, but that’s about it. He seems happy in Nashville, though.” Although I missed Tweetie a lot, time does start to heal, even if it’s just to take the edge off the pain so you can carry on.

  “Good. Is he coming?” No sooner was the question out of his mouth than Tweetie walked in.

  My back stiffened. His blond hair was longer, and the beard he’d grown all season until Nashville won the Cup two weeks ago was now shaved off. He looked stronger, healthier, and a force to be reckoned with. I watched as Tweetie searched the room, and when our eyes collided, a slow, easy smile formed on his lips.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Gerhardt,” I said in a whisper, already heading toward Tweetie.

  We broke the distance at the same time, but as soon as we got closer, we fumbled and stumbled into one another with a hug that probably looked as awkward as it felt.

  “Congratulations,” I said first.

  A slight blush landed on his cheeks, and he nodded. “Thanks. It was a great season.”

  I’m sure he was there to support Ford, but I know there was an extra dose of satisfaction to have Jana and Kane see him in the best shape of his life with another Cup win under his belt. He always harbored such hurt from that trade.

  “You look really good,” I said.

  His gaze fell down my body, and it felt like a caress. “You do too.”

  We stood there, and I’m sure more than a few sets of eyes were watching us. We were the couple who didn’t make it. The ones who should’ve made them all appreciate what they had even more.

  “God, I hate this,” I admitted.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Are you happy?”

  There was a lot I could cover in my answer, but I went the simple route. “Yeah. You?”

  Tweetie shrugged. “I can’t complain.”

  “Tweetie!” Ford shouted from across the room.

  Tweetie didn’t look up right away. Instead, his eyes stayed on me. I knew his unsaid words because I felt them too.

  How did we get here? How the hell did we end up like this?

  I didn’t have an answer.

  He cupped my elbow and held my gaze. “We’ll catch up later?”

  “Sure. Go.” I nodded toward Ford.

  Tweetie studied me for a second before his hand left my elbow, and he crossed the room. All of his old teammates huddled around him, congratulating him on winning the Cup.

  Saige came up next to me, holding a sleeping Nora. “You okay?”

  “It’s good to see him smiling and happy.”

  We watched them for a while before Aria, Saige’s other daughter, barreled into my legs, winding around to my back.

  “Hide me,” she said. “Xander is chasing me.”

  For the rest of the night, I’d catch Tweetie with his eyes on me, but he was the life of the party as usual. That hadn’t changed in the years we’d been apart. He was on the dance floor with all the kids or at the bar with his teammates. Part of me was happy watching the old Tweetie in action, the one from before all the shit that went down four years ago. I didn’t need anything more than that, but I should’ve been prepared, because with the way he kept looking at me, it made it clear he wasn’t going to just leave it at the quick conversation we’d had when he arrived. So as the night dwindled down, he asked me to dance, and I didn’t have it in me to refuse.

  He held me close, our entwined hands between us, his hand never leaving my lower back. I didn’t lean my head on his chest as I once would have, and he didn’t kiss the top of my head. But that invisible string that always pulled us together was still drawn tight, alive and present.

  I’m not sure how it happened. I think he asked me to share a ride, and in the back of the rideshare, our pinkies met, and then he was holding my hand.

  “Will you come back to my hotel?” he whispered.

  That’s why I’d tried to keep my distance these past four years. Something in my gut told me we weren’t over. That maybe the timing wasn’t right the first time around, but at some point, it would be. Even though the idea of setting myself up for the unbearable pain if things didn’t work out scared me, we were both in better headspaces, so I accepted.

  “Okay,” I said, meeting his gaze.

  We calmly walked through the lobby, my hand in his. Everyone who saw us probably thought we were just any other couple. They didn’t know our past and how big of a step we were taking.

  I didn’t know what to expect, but as soon as Tweetie had me in his room, my back was against the wall and his lips were on mine. It felt as if I’d been straining to breathe for four long years, and one kiss from him, and suddenly I could take a deep, cleansing breath.

  “I’ve wanted you out of this dress since I saw you tonight.” He found my zipper, and I unbuttoned his shirt, the last few buttons flying off because of my impatience. “Goddamn, how have I gone this long without you?”

  After that, there wasn’t a lot of talking as we fumbled our way to the bed. I should’ve known, should’ve been prepared—sex was never our issue. We’d always been able to connect on a physical, intimate level regardless of what was going on in our relationship.

  I woke up the next morning, and it felt like old times. I was so full of hope and expectation, ever the fool.

  Tweetie was sprawled out on his stomach, and I inched my way over to him, laying my head on his shoulder blade, running my fingers over his skin like I used to, over the ink that marked me as his, but my fingers stopped when I saw what lay underneath them.

  I picked up my head, and my body chilled seconds before my blood boiled.

  I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. There was no fucking tattoo on his shoulder blade. He’d gotten it removed.

  My mind cast back to when he told me what the tattoo symbolized for him, how it meant that no matter what, I would always have a piece of his heart and soul. The visual reminder that those words hadn’t meant what I thought they did to him was a crushing weight on my soul. He clearly regretted me, regretted us.

  I slid out of the bed and grabbed my things, tiptoeing to leave without having to deal with him. This was a very bad mistake. One I knew I’d feel the sting from for a very long time.

  I slid on my dress and was zipping it up when he peeked one eye open. “Where are you going?” He held out his arms, wanting me to get back in bed with him.

  “You’re an asshole.” I couldn’t help the words from escaping my mouth. I finished zipping up my dress and went to find my shoes.

  “What?” he asked, either not fully awake or not remembering that he might have wanted to tell me something. Before we slept together.

  “Nice back. So clean and unmarked.” I searched the room for my purse once I slid on my shoes.

  His face paled, and I actually took pleasure in his reaction. “Shit. Let me explain.”

  “I don’t need an explanation.” My voice was getting louder. Shit. Why was I giving him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction? “I’m not surprised, I guess. You never could really commit. Go the distance.”

  He sprang out of bed, grabbed his boxer briefs, and put them on. “You’re going to throw stones at me for not committing? I asked you to marry me.” Anger and hurt laced his voice.

  Was he serious?

  “When you had nothing else good in your life! When you were at your lowest point! That’s when you suddenly decided you were all for marriage. After how many years together? You just woke up with the epiphany that you wanted me to be your wife?”

  He inhaled a breath and released it, as though maybe he was trying to control his anger. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

  I probably gave him a look. I don’t know, but whatever my reaction was, he continued, throwing his arms out at his side.

  “You wouldn’t. So fine. Believe whatever you want, Tedi. You always did.”

  I let the dig slide. “Come on, Tweetie. I’m not an idiot. You didn’t even have a ring.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated growl. “You want to know the truth? Fine. I wasn’t planning on proposing to you that day.”

  “I knew it!” I pointed at him, feeling justified that I’d been right to turn him down and end things.

  He rolled his eyes. “But I also wasn’t planning on you breaking up with me. You just gave up on us. After all those years and everything we shared, you just gave up. And so I was a desperate man. A desperate man who only wanted to hold on to the one thing he hadn’t lost.”

  “That’s not why you ask someone to marry you. I don’t want someone to ask me just because they’re afraid to lose me.”

  “That’s the entire reason why someone asks someone to marry them, Tedi.” His tone made it clear that he thought I was the idiot for not seeing the truth of his words.

  I quieted and stared at him. He just didn’t get it. Probably never would. I understood his past and his issues with his dad and abandonment. Hell, I had issues too.

  My voice was a mere whisper when I said, “No, Tweetie, that’s not why you marry someone.”

  I picked up my purse and stood at the end of the bed.

  “Enlighten me then, oh wise one.” The anger was still pouring off of him.

  I shook my head. “That’s something you need to figure out yourself.”

  I walked to the door, tears pushing at the corners of my eyes the entire time. He rushed to stop me, slamming his hand on the door and shutting it before I got a chance to open it fully.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered. He caged me against the door, his chest to my back, and for a moment, my hand slipped from the doorknob. He leaned his head in close, inhaling me.

  It would have been so easy to stop, turn around, and let him try to convince me that what we’d done the night before was a good idea. But the voice that had been decimated by the loss of this man was louder than any others inside me, telling me we’d just end up at the same place if we did. Lost. Hurt. Alone.

  I placed my hand back on the doorknob. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  He stepped back, removing his hand from the back of the door, and I walked out and down the hall, not allowing myself to shed one tear until I was out of the hotel.

  Thirty-Six

  Tedi

  I have no idea how I outsmarted Tweetie, but I don’t take a deep breath until I’m behind my apartment door.

  My shaking hands squeeze into fists. It’s all crashing down, the reality of the position I’m in. I’ve been living in a make-believe world thinking I could pretend to have a boyfriend, pretend that the memories of Tweetie and me didn’t plague me every time he was around. I’ve been a total fool.

  I shrug off my jacket and kick off my shoes, then open my freezer and grab my cookies and cream ice cream. I look out the windows that face Lake Michigan and try to figure out how I get out of this.

  I could call Saige, but I’m not in the mood to dissect this with anyone just yet.

  A spoonful of ice cream is almost to my lips when a knock sounds on my door. I freeze.

  “Tedi!”

  Tweetie. Fuck, how does he know where I live?

  Shit. I’m a complete moron. He saw me home that night from the airport.

  “Eventually, you’ll have to see me.”

  I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at the closed door.

  “Put the ice cream down.”

  I grunt and roll my eyes again.

  He knocks again. “Tedi, I know you’re in there.”

  He acts as if he can smell me, like in one of those romance books with vampires and wolves and fae princes named Rowan Whitethorn.

  “You’re going to be up all night if we don’t just settle this. All I want to do is talk.” I hear a thud on the door and wonder if it’s his forehead because he’s as exhausted as I am. Exhausted from trying to outrun the past.

  I stick the spoon into the quart of ice cream and slowly walk to the door and open it. Tweetie stands with both hands on the top of the doorframe, leaning forward. Jeez, why is that pose as sexy as it is?

  He picks up his head with a shocked expression that I opened the door. “Hey.” He says the singular word in his easygoing drawl that only makes me remember how much my love for this man never waned.

  I step back, letting him in. I guess we’re doing this.

  “Good?” he asks, dramatically raising his foot, leaving it elevated over the doorway.

  “Whatever.” I roll my eyes again for good measure, walking away.

  “Huh, I was right.” He eyes the ice cream as I take the spoon out and put the lid on before dropping it back in the freezer.

  “You’re not a genius. You’ve known me for, like, thirteen years.”

  I lay the spoon in my sink and round the counter, heading over to the uncomfortable couch. He follows me, and soon, we’re both seated. Sure, there’s a cushion between us, but all I can think about is how little space that really is.

  “I’m gonna be honest. I’m upset.” He rests his forearms on his thighs, leaning closer than he needs to.

  I sit back and bring my legs up, crossing them. For a little added protection, I hug a pillow to my body.

  “Scared?” he asks.

  “Deathly.”

  He chuckles, and I realize how much I’ve missed being in a room with just the two of us. “Me too. Just tell me why.”

  “Why what?”

  He peeks up at me through his long eyelashes. “Why Decker?”

  I shrug. “Well, he was easy and convenient. He wasn’t going to get attached, and most importantly, he wasn’t a serial killer.”

  He doesn’t laugh at my joke, holding my gaze. “You know what I mean.”

  I inhale a breath. “Haven’t you ever felt like this thing between us is just too big to ignore? I knew you’d never encourage me to cheat, so I figured it would keep you just far away enough that we’d get through my time in Chicago without making a mistake.”

  “A mistake?”

  “I don’t think this thing between us will ever go away.”

  “Do you want it to?” Before I can respond, he adds, “I don’t.”

  “Oh, Tweetie.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  He slides a little closer, but not all the way.

  I clutch the pillow a little harder.

  “Listen. I know we have a lot of shit between us. And I’m totally up for ordering takeout, sitting here all night, and dissecting everything that went wrong, but in the end, having you here, seeing you with him, Tedi…” His gaze rises to meet mine, and I swallow from the depth of emotion in his baby blues. “I want another chance.”

  “Oh my god.” I drop the pillow and stand. “No.” I shake my head over and over.

  “No what?”

  “No, you don’t.”

  This is all my fault—having Decker pretend to be my boyfriend has made Tweetie think he wants me back. After all these years apart, he decides to be all in now?

  He laughs and sits back on the couch, no longer rigid and uncomfortable. “You’re telling me what I want now?” He relaxes into my uncomfortable sofa, one arm splayed around the back and the other one cast lazily over a pillow.

  “Someone has to.”

  “I’m not joking, Tedi.” And he doesn’t look as if he’s joking. He looks very, very serious. Which only scares me more.

  “I get it. I was jealous of that mom at the ice rink. It’s hard for us to see the other with someone else, but a second chance?”

  He’s shaking his head before I can even finish. “It has nothing to do with Decker.”

  “Really? I never saw you seeking me out after Ford’s retirement party. I don’t remember any missed calls or texts or love letters being sent to me.”

  He leans over and pats the couch. “Sit down. You’re making yourself anxious standing there.”

  I cross my arms, taking a dramatic step backward. “I’m fine.”