Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Summer stares at me. “What?”
“The tour. LA. All of it.” I force myself to look at her. “How could you not? This is what you’ve been working for.”
I sound so reasonable.
So supportive.
So full of shit.
I’ve been telling myself this since Spencer started talking, replaying it all in my head like game tape. Be supportive. Be happy for her. Don’t make this harder than it already is.
Still, saying the words out loud feels like a puck to the ribs.
“Miles, they want me to pretend I’m dating Cash.” Her voice rises. “You got that part, right?”
That adds a knife to my gut, but I manage to shrug. “I know it’s fake. And I trust you.”
That part’s true.
“It doesn’t bother me.”
That part’s not.
She shakes her head, searching my face. “How are you okay with this?”
I’m not. I’m the opposite of okay. I’m watching the best thing that’s ever happened to me slip away.
But what’s the alternative? Ask her to stay? Turn down the opportunity of a lifetime? Watch her resent me months from now, when she realizes what she gave up?
I’ve watched what happens when someone sacrifices something for you. Vanessa. The slow burn of resentment that doesn’t give a warning, just shows up one day in the way someone looks at you across a room.
No.
I won’t be that guy. Won’t be the reason she looks back and wonders “what if.”
I press my tongue against the back of my teeth, trying to find words that aren’t a lie. “Because I know what happens if you don’t go,” I finally settle on.
She lets out a breath. “What?”
“You’ll regret it.” I step closer. “Maybe not today. Maybe not next week. But eventually. And when you do, you’ll look at me and wonder what your life could’ve been if I hadn’t been in the way.”
“You’re not in the way—”
“If you stay. If you turn this down because of me.” My voice is rough. “I’ll be the reason. Don’t try to tell me there’s anything else keeping you in Chicago, Starling.”
Summer shakes her head, emotion building right before my eyes.
I cup her face in my hands. “I won’t be the person who holds you back.”
Her eyes shine, but she won’t let the tears fall.
“I can’t do this without knowing we’re going to be okay.” Her breath catches.
Will we?
A month apart. Summer pretending to date Cash. Me, watching from a distance while her career takes off and mine demands everything I have.
I’m terrified, but she doesn’t need my fear on top of her own.
I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her sweet citrus scent. “We’re more than okay, honey.”
I want to mean it. I do mean it. I just don’t know if meaning something is enough to make it true. Yet.
We have to be okay.
The alternative—that this is the beginning of the end—is something I can’t let myself think about.
She eases away, but her hands cling to my shirt. “We’ll make it work?”
Just until you leave. That’s what we said.
But standing here, I can’t make those words mean what they used to.
I’ll do everything I can to make this work.
Still, it’ll be hard.
My first few seasons, I barely had time to breathe. Hockey consumed my whole life. If I hadn’t met Vanessa through the organization, I never would’ve had the chance to build anything with anyone.
And even then, what I could give wasn’t enough.
How can I expect Summer to be any different as she nurtures her career? I can’t. I don’t want her to. She deserves to give her all to it, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to ease that burden for her.
I can’t tell Summer any of that, though. Can’t tell her I’m terrified we won’t survive it. She’d stay if I asked. And I can’t let her do that.
“Of course we will.” My lips tip up, but it’s a struggle to keep them that way.
Even if we don’t make it—even right now, hurting like hell, knowing there might be worse to come in the future—I can’t bring myself to regret any of it.
Because it all led me here.
To her.
Even if here is about to be somewhere she isn’t.
I wipe at the tears that’ve found their way onto Summer’s lashes, swallowing against the lump in my own throat.
“I don’t want to leave you.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she pulls in a shaky breath.
Christ. I clear my throat. “But you have to.”
Because this is your dream.
And I won’t be the one who keeps you from it.
Because if you don’t, you’ll hate me for it.
And I’d rather lose you than have you hate me.
“I know.” She closes her eyes, and fresh tears spill over.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, tears streaming down her face. “I love you.”
The air leaves my lungs, worse than a hit that lands me hard on the ice. “I love you, too. So fucking much.” My voice scratches.
I kiss her.
My tongue parts her lips, and I try to etch every detail of her mouth, of the feel of her in my arms, of the small sounds she makes, into my memory. Her hands slide into my hair. Mine grip her hips.
I need this. Need to remember what it feels like to hold her.
Because in a few minutes, I won’t be able to.
“Ask me to stay,” she whispers when she pulls back, her breath coming fast.
Everything in me wants to.
The words are right there.
Stay.
Please stay.
But I swallow it down.
“I promised I wouldn’t ask you to.” I grasp the nape of her neck, letting my forehead rest against hers. I blink until my vision clears.
I kiss her temple and make myself say the hardest word of my life.
“Go.”