Chapter 37 Packy
packy
I led him down the hall, wondering why he’d come.
His kiss still burned on my lips, reminding me why I’d spent the last two weeks trying not to think about him.
I needed to focus on the playoffs before I could think about the future, but had I waited too long?
Had he given up and decided I wasn’t worth it?
I was scared that’s what he was about to say.
I love you. What are we going to do?
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I held back.
Once I started, I knew I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t let that happen because saying something without thinking it through could make things worse.
Why had he brought up the move in the first place?
If I went to New York without a choice, I’d be resentful, and it wouldn’t end well.
And if he gave me an ultimatum like that, there’d be nothing left to move for.
I hadn’t found the best way to talk about this. The Warriors were playing our best hockey all season, and we had a real shot at the Laurentian. I couldn’t fuck it up for everybody.
At least that was my excuse for putting it off.
But if things fell apart with Nix, it would break me.
The last few years had been one blow after another.
I thought I’d finally found my balance when Nix and I got together, but now that might be slipping away.
If I had to fall apart, it would be better after the playoffs than now.
The TV room was too quiet and still. Nix hovered behind me, and I forced a smile before turning to face him. His eyes were wide, searching my face for something I wasn’t ready to say. Was he hoping I’d talk first?
I wondered again if he’d had enough of waiting. Had he come to end things? The thought hit like a body check, and my vision blurred at the edges. Surely, I was overthinking. He wouldn’t have come to Buffalo to break my heart.
But have I already broken his? Has my distance made him think I don’t want him anymore?
I pointed to the sofa. He sat at one end, and I took the other. The space between us felt huge. Yet if I moved closer, I’d pull him into my arms, and all my feelings would come rushing out.
Nix shifted, folding his long legs at an awkward angle. When his knee touched mine, my body reacted instantly. I placed my hand on top of his.
His breath caught as his eyes went wide. Surprise? Disappointment?
I panicked and pulled my hand back.
He furrowed his brow, sending another unclear signal. What the hell was going on?
I cleared my throat and said, “I’m glad you’re here. I know I’ve been quiet, but… I’ve been trying to…”
The words were right on my lips: I love you. My tongue went numb, and my words came out muffled. “I don’t want to rush us into anything complicated. I need time to think, and I can’t right now.”
He flicked at some imaginary lint on his pants. “I came here so we could talk.”
Talk. The word was like a knife. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of. Either he wanted answers I wasn’t ready to give, or he was tired of waiting.
“You’ve been different,” he said without looking at me. “I don’t know if it’s stress, or the playoffs…” He paused. “Or me.” He leaned closer and finally met my eyes. “I know you said we’d talk after the season, but it’s a lot harder waiting than you might think.”
The weight of everything I couldn’t say was too much, so I kept it simple. “Yeah, I get that.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Do you?”
No. Or yes. Maybe. I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Pack.”
“I don’t want you to think I…” My throat shut down.
“What?” He leaned forward, shoulders stiff and hands curled into loose fists.
The truth was ready to spill out: I love you, and I want you. I’m scared of losing you. What I actually said was smaller. “I wanted this. Wanted you.”
He jerked back like I’d shoved him. After staring for too long, he spoke so quietly it was hard to hear him. “You weren’t ready to talk. Once I knew that, I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“It’s not that. I only asked for a little time.”
He nodded once and looked past me. In a rough voice, he said, “I know.”
My fingers tingled and then went numb at the tips. Inside, I ached like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.
“Maybe things are moving too fast right now,” I said, trying to be clear. “I asked for more time. That’s all.”
He flinched again. “Oh.”
I reached for him, but he didn’t move.
“Nix?” My voice cracked. “I’m not trying to end this. It’s… all new to me.”
“I understand.” He lowered his head and looked at his hands. His chest rose and fell with the same slow, steady breaths I’d been taking for two weeks.
Clearly, he didn’t understand, so I tried again. “I don’t want to break up, but we need to get this right.”
We were silent for a long time. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were too bright. “So, we need space.”
What the fuck? He wanted space? He hadn’t asked if I did or not. I tried to look into his eyes, but he avoided the contact. The lump in my throat made it impossible to speak, so I tried telepathy. No, that’s not what I want. Please don’t pull away.
He didn’t say a word. Oh God. If he wanted space, I had to give it to him. I wouldn’t try to make him a relationship prisoner even if I could.
“I guess.” Trying to clarify things, I added, “Until after playoffs, right?” When he said nothing, I added, “If that still works for you.”
After more silence, he nodded, then stood. I got up, but my legs were unsteady.
“Good luck with the Lynx series,” he said.
“Thanks. You too.”
He narrowed his eyes, and I realized I’d said something stupid. The Condors were finished.
I followed him to the door, every instinct screaming for me to stop him. I stayed quiet anyway because I didn’t want to make things worse.
In the foyer, he turned. His face was blank, but his eyes were too bright, wet at the corners. “I should go.”
My eyes stung. I touched his shoulder, and for a few breaths, he placed his hand over mine. His palm was warm, and he gave a single squeeze.
All the words I’d held back wanted to come out. Stay. Don’t go. I love you.
But I let him walk away.
Cold air rushed in when he opened the door, but he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he held my gaze and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he closed it and looked at me.
I was frozen in place, hoping he’d change his mind, but failing to give him a reason to stay.
He stepped outside and walked to his car without looking back. I gasped and stumbled to the window. My heart pounded so hard I couldn’t hear anything else. His taillights glowed red at the corner, then disappeared.
That was it.
I pressed a trembling hand against the glass as silence closed in on me.
My knees gave out. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, curled up with my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together.
The heat clicked on, indifferent to what had just happened.
Every heartbeat reminded me I was still there, even though everything that mattered was gone.
What did we do?
The question hurt even without an answer. I buried my face in my hands, tears leaking between my fingers, before I realized I was crying. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. The jagged sobs shook my whole body.
My stomach twisted so hard I cried out before jumping up and stumbling down the hall. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was on my knees retching. At first, nothing came up, and then everything did. I gripped the toilet and heaved until my ribs ached and my hands slipped on the porcelain.
When nothing was left, my body shook as I sagged onto the floor. The cool tile against my cheek soothed me, and for a moment I could breathe again. Then the hot, relentless tears came back.
Not knowing what he wanted was the worst part. After everything we’d shared, I let him go without asking where we stood. Had he asked for space because he needed time, or did he already know he was done? The thought tore me apart.
My ex surfaced out of nowhere. She’d always smiled adoringly in pictures but ignored me in real life.
I loved her, so for a while, I was blind to what was going on.
She stayed long enough to buy a fancy wardrobe and expensive jewelry, but I wasn’t good enough.
She walked away as soon as someone richer and shinier came along.
Love is temporary, and I’m replaceable. Why would it be any different with Nix?
Another sob escaped me. I pressed my forehead to the floor and cried until I ached all over.
Eventually, I dragged myself into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would get.
It burned my skin, but I stayed there, letting it pound against my shoulders, neck, and the back of my head. It didn’t help. Nothing would.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned off the water and found a towel. After pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie, I went back to the foyer. I placed my hand on the door and imagined him standing on the other side, hand raised, about to knock.
But he wasn’t there.
“I’m not ready to lose you,” I whispered.
I kept my hand on the door, hoping that staying there might bring him back. But I knew it wouldn’t. He was gone, and I’d done nothing to stop him. I’d let go of the person who mattered most, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get him back.