Chapter 55
Landon
The rink is almost empty now; only a few of the girls are still here.
The sound of skates scraping the floor has faded, the echo of laughter lingering only in memory.
I’m standing by the far end of the benches, pretending to check the team’s training schedule, but really, I’m just trying to keep it together.
Willow’s absence is a physical thing. It feels as if something’s been carved out of me and left open to bleed.
She left with him—Hunter. No hesitation. No backward glance. And it shouldn’t matter. I told her I was happy for her. I meant it. But god, it hurts.
“Hey, Coach.” A voice lilts to my right. Bright. Flirty.
I glance up and find Cheese, one of the blockers, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She’s been bold lately, always finding ways to linger after drills.
“You sticking around for another hour?” she asks, stepping a little closer. “I could use some extra help on my edge work.”
I offer a tight smile. “You’re solid on your edge work, Cheese. Better than half the league.”
Her brows lift, clearly surprised that I didn’t take the bait.
“Still,” she says with a tilt of her head, “sometimes it helps to have a hands-on coach.”
I step back. Not much. Just enough that she notices.
“I’m not that kind of coach.”
She blinks. The flirtation fades from her face, and she finally nods. “Right. Got it.”
She skates off without another word, her two teammates exchanging looks as she passes. I ignore them.
Because none of them are Willow. And none of them ever could be.
When she skates, it’s as if she was made for it—the floor bending to her rhythm, struggling to keep up. She was good before, on those tapes. But now? She’s something else.
Confident. Free. The last of the bruises I left on her finally gone.
Because yeah, it was only a week. One whirlwind week that changed everything.
Before I shattered it with a kiss I gave to the wrong girl, thinking it would make her let me go. It did. Just not in the way I imagined.
I thought ending things before the bond got too deep would save us both from a bigger kind of pain. But now I get it.
She didn’t need me to tear the bond apart.
She needed me to hold on.
To stay. To put in an effort.
And I didn’t. Hindsight really is 20/20.
I drop onto the bench and stare down at the floor, at all the marks left behind by other people trying and failing and getting back up again.
I don’t blame her. She didn’t pick me.
And maybe…maybe she was never supposed to. Not that I gave her a reason to. I gave her every reason not to from the very beginning. Can you say walking red flag?
So if being with them gives her the joy I couldn’t?
Then yeah—I’ll carry this regret.
Because she deserves everything.
Even if it’s not with me.
The door clicks shut behind me. The parking lot is empty. She’s already gone. Left with her pack. I stare at the empty sidewalk a second too long, then exhale, running a hand through my hair as I head toward the back lot.
That’s when I feel it.
That pull. That itch at the base of my neck. I’m not alone. I can feel eyes on me.
I stop walking.
“You loved her for a week. And you fucked it all up. If I was given a week, I wouldn’t fuck it up like you did.”
The voice comes from the shadows near the alley. Calm and steady.
I turn slowly.
A guy steps forward, lean and composed, dressed in black as though the shadows never really let him go. His frigid blue eyes cut like glass, and his mouth tilts in a smile that doesn’t reach them.
He looks familiar. Not in the I’ve met you kind of way, but the I’ve seen you where I wasn’t supposed to kind.
I narrow my eyes. “How would you know that? Have you been watching me?”
“No,” he says. “I’ve been watching her.”
I freeze. My blood runs cold. “Excuse me?”
He grins, unrepentant. “You heard me.”
I’ve heard the girls on the team joke with Willow about her having a stalker—and that’s why those three alphas are always hanging around. But I thought it was just that. A joke. Not something real. Not someone real.
“What do you want from me?” I ask cautiously.
His expression doesn’t change. “Don’t flatter yourself, Landon. I don’t want anything from you. You’re just collateral. A piece of her past. A mistake I have to fix.”
I step forward, heat rising in my chest. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.” His voice doesn’t get louder. “I know you were the scent match who let her go. I know you kissed someone else to make her run. I know she nearly broke when the mark faded, and you didn’t even fight for her. Do you even know what she went through because of you?”
My stomach turns, but I stand my ground. “It was complicated.”
“No,” he says, stepping in closer now, close enough that something hums under my skin. “It was cowardice.”
I flinch before I can stop myself. He drags his cold gaze over my face.
“You know that, though. Don’t you? It’s why you’re sticking around, hoping your presence will change her mind. But she doesn’t need you now. She has me. And the alphas who care for her the way you should’ve.”
I clench my jaw. “She isn’t yours.”
“She’s closer to being mine than she is to being yours. I should do something about the way you hurt her. I would have, if it weren’t for those bodyguards. You should thank them for saving your life. I’m feeling generous. If you hurt her again, I won’t be so kind.”
A fear spikes with my adrenaline. I swallow it down.
“You follow her?” I ask, more accusation than question.
He shrugs. “I’m not hiding it. She knows I’m watching. She lets me. She likes it.”
He lets that sit between us.
“She will never belong to you,” I grit out.
“No. But I belong to her.” There’s a dangerous calm in his voice now. “And that makes all the difference.”
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
Then he smiles. That same quiet, unnerving smile.
“It kills you, doesn’t it? Knowing you had her and lost her. That others can love her better?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. He’s already walking away.
I slam the car door, gritting my teeth as my hands grip the steering wheel. Knuckles white.
I stare through the windshield at nothing, trying to breathe. Trying to slow the racing of my heart. My stomach knots, turning over with a nauseating mix of jealousy, shame, and something that feels dangerously close to grief.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
I did let her go.
I was a coward.
I thought I was protecting her when I walked away. Thought the pain of a fading bond would be easier than what might’ve happened if I’d stayed—too stupid, too selfish, too scared to be what she needed. So I destroyed it first.
But she didn’t need me to protect her from the bond. She needed me to fight for it. To let it grow into what it could become.
And I didn’t.
I rub a hand down my face, the sharp sting of those words still echoing in my skull.
She has love now. Alphas who protect her. Who laugh with her. Who probably cook for her and give her things. Who kiss her and treat her as if she’s their whole world. Happiness and joy, she has everything I could ever want for her with other people.
I’ve seen it.
And if I really care about her—if I really love her—then I have to be willing to do the thing I should’ve done from the start.
Become someone worth loving. Fight.
Even if I lose.
Even if it’s too late.
Because maybe it’s not about getting her back. Maybe it’s about deserving her if she ever looks at me again. I put the key in the ignition, but I don’t turn it.
Instead, I rest my forehead against the wheel and whisper, “I’m sorry, Willow. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
But apologies aren’t enough anymore. It’s time I prove I mean it.