Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Every time he takes a hit, my heart jumps into my throat and my hands instantly cover my face like I can’t witness him getting hurt. Every time he checks someone into the boards, I can see the force behind it, the aggression sitting just below the surface like something contained but not gone.
He scores in the second period.
The arena explodes, but he doesn’t celebrate.
He turns, skates back to the bench as if it were inevitable, as if nothing in this building touches him.
Like nothing ever touches him at all, like the old Luka that I first met.
But I know what’s behind that jersey, past those pads.
A side of him that I wish everyone could see, because then they would love him as much as I do.
Love… oh God, I do. I love him, and he’ll never know it. I’ll never get to say it. Even if I did, he’d only think I was trying to manipulate him further.
By the time the final buzzer sounds, I’m on my feet. They won, and I wish I could celebrate with him.
The players begin their slow skate around the ice, and then he looks up.
Not scanning. It's just a casual glance, until his eyes find me by accident. The shift in his demeanor is immediate—unmistakable.
He stops so abruptly that ice sprays from beneath his skates, his body going rigid in a way that makes my stomach drop.
Even from here, I can see his jaw tighten, his grey-blue eyes flaring with annoyance, or anger… or both. He didn't expect to see me, and he isn't happy about it.
Molly inhales sharply beside me.
"Oh God," she murmurs. "You were right."
He doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts one gloved hand and points up towards the exit at the top of the stairs.
It isn’t a question or a request. It’s a demand. My pulse spikes so fast it feels like it might burst.
"Shit," Molly whisper, grabbing my arm. "I’m sorry."
"It’s fine," I say automatically, though it absolutely isn’t. "I need to get this over with."
"I’ll wait in the car," she says.
I nod and then I stand because whatever this is about to become, I have to find out how this ends.
A shiver runs through me as I walk through the cold cement corridor. The noise from the rink echoes off the walls. It’s all distant cheers and music like we’ve stepped outside the world where everything makes sense.
He’s already waiting.
Helmet tucked under his arm. Gloves still on. His skates making him even taller than he already is, towering over me, shoulders squared in a way that tells me he hasn’t cooled down from the game… or from being blindsided when he saw me in the crowd.
He doesn’t move toward me.
"You shouldn’t be here," he says, his voice annoyingly even, almost as if he can’t feel anger or frustration towards me because he’s already completely removed emotionally from this conversation.
I stop a few feet away from him, careful not to close the space without permission. I don’t throw Molly under the bus for 'adultnapping' me and bringing me here against my will. None of this is her fault.
"I didn’t mean to blindside you. I wasn’t going to bother you. I just wanted to see you before I left," I say quietly.
"The game is televised. Next time, just watch from home like everyone else."
I hold back the tears trying to form. It’ll only make it worse.
He glances away, as if he knows I’m trying to hold them back and he can’t stand to witness it.
"I’m sorry, Luka. For how this all happened."
"I know you say you're sorry. I got the texts," he says, as if my texts were an inconvenience to read.
"You didn’t write back."
"That should have told you something."
The words are calm, but the restraint in them is louder than shouting would have been.
"I’m sorry I came. I didn’t think you’d even know I was here."
His gaze flicked toward the stairwell that led back down to the ice and then returned to me.
"This is my arena," he says, voice still level. "This is the one place I don’t have to think about headlines or strategy or who knows what. And you show up here after everything that just happened."
"I didn’t come to make a scene."
"And yet, you have."
He says, his voice almost with a shake. The first and only time he’s shown any real emotion since the moment he saw me sitting in the stands.
"So, what are you here to say? Out with it, Natalia, I have post-game press."
I’ve said everything I could over text, and none of it helped. It won’t help now. He’s made up his mind, and those steel-grey eyes staring back at me like I’m the enemy tell me that I’m not getting past them again.
Switzerland was lightning in a bottle. A onetime chance to break through Luka’s rock-solid exterior. I had my once in a lifetime shot and I blew it.
His eyes sharpened slightly. "Did you tell her?"
There it is.
The line I can’t step around.
"Yes," I say. "I told Carey about the email. I told her we weren’t using it. I thought if she understood the situation, she would help me stall. I thought she would protect you."
He lets out a slow breath through his nose.
"That’s the part that matters."
"I panicked," I admit, my voice thinner now. "I thought if she knew VELVT lied, she would keep it internal."
"You made a decision for me," he says.
"I was trying to buy you time."
"That’s not your call to make."
The cold in his voice is worse than anger. He’s right, it wasn’t my call to make.
"I wasn’t trying to betray you."
"But you did."
Silence settles between us.
"I didn’t sleep with you to get that information," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them because I can’t live with knowing that he thinks I would do that to him. "Carey’s text made it look like that. I need you to know that I didn’t."
He studies me for a long moment, and then the shift happens. The moment when all of his doors and windows lock shut, keeping everyone out, especially me.
"It doesn’t matter anymore why you did it. The narrative shifted; sponsors are calmer. VELVT is taking the heat. You get to keep your position. Everyone’s happy."
Except for the two people who matter, I want to say.
"I don’t care about the position." I tell him.
His eyes dimmed, and that’s worse. I wish there was some fight left in them for me… for us, but there isn’t. "You should. You gave up a lot to get it." He glances down, breaking eye contact.
"You’re right…" I say. His eyes darted back up to mine as if he wasn’t expecting me to agree. "I did give up a lot… I gave up you."
He looks away, studying the wall as if some answer might be written there.
"I’m not built for this, Natalia," he continues. "This would have happened, eventually. If you hadn’t done what you did, I would have destroyed this."
"Why? Because you believe love makes you weak?"
"Yes."
I shake my head. "You’re wrong. Love makes you stronger."
"We’re both better off. You’ll get a promotion before long. You’ll find someone else. Someone who hates the cold and skiing."
"Right," I say, crossing my arms. "And you’ll go back to parking yourself in a hotel bar by the pool table, only interested if she doesn’t ask questions or wants to stay the night."
My chin quivers at the thought of him with someone else, but he doesn’t say anything, though now I see that his eyes are starting to redden. The first sign of true emotion, but for what? What is he feeling? Why won’t he fight for this? I’m so tired of men not fighting for me. My father… now Luka.
"So that’s it?" I ask. "You’re done?"
"I was done the second I saw that headline."
The words feel final. Like the latch on a door, clicking shut.
"Then you’re right. If you can give me up that easily, we never would have worked."
He nods once, distant.
"I hope you get everything you’re looking for," he says, the look of complete detachment, except for the reddening around his eyes.
Then he turns and walks down the corridor without looking back. This time, I don’t chase him. I’m tired of chasing unavailable men.
The arena doors closed behind me and the cold Seattle air felt heavier now.
Molly is leaning against the car when she sees my face emerge from the stadium. She doesn’t ask how it went; she just opens the passenger door.
The drive back is quiet at first. Streetlights blur past the window, and I focus on the rhythm of them instead of the tight ache spreading through my chest.
Molly drops me off, heading back to her hotel. She tells me that she’ll pick me up tomorrow and we can drive to the airport together.
The moment my mother sees me, her eyebrows knit together.
"Oh, honey," she says, and that’s it.
The second her arms wrap around me, everything I’ve been holding in breaks loose.
I don’t cry prettily or quietly against her shoulder.
I fold into her like I did when I was fifteen and convinced the world had ended because a boy didn’t call me back, or the time my father didn’t show up for my high school graduation.
Except this feels bigger.
"I found something I wanted more than my job, like you said I should," I whisper against her shoulder. "I wanted him more than proving something to my father. And I lost it."
She smooths her hand over my hair.
"Are you sure you lost it?" she asks softly.
"You should have seen him. He barely looked at me."
She doesn’t argue.
Instead, she asks, "Is this job worth it?"
The question startles me.
"I’ve given so much of my life to that firm," I say. "I don’t even know who I am without it."
"You’re good at protecting people," she says. "You have a huge heart. You don’t need Legacy to validate that."
"I don’t know how to want anything else," I admit.
She studies me carefully.
"You could stay here. Move back into your old room. Live rent-free while you figure out what you want."
The idea both comforts and terrifies me. I don't give her an answer right away but I thank her and tell her that I will think about it.
Later, when I’m alone and the house is quiet, I sit on the couch.
He’s five miles away.
Five miles.
Close enough that I could drive there in ten minutes, stand outside his building and stare up at a window. And yet he feels unreachable.
I thought if I could just explain myself, it would fix something. Instead, I confirmed his worst fear… and maybe mine.
As much as not going back to Arizona feels like too much hope… I have to face that whatever I thought Luka and I had, it’s over. It’s time to get back to my real life.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll get on that flight with Molly and I’ll head back to the life I left two weeks ago like Luka and Switzerland never happened.
Though that life, for the first time, feels empty without him in it.