Chapter 35 #2
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hailey's tear-streaked face, felt the ghost of her trembling body against mine. The memory of her desperate plea for distraction—for me to kiss her—kept replaying in my head on a loop, a haunting melody that wouldn't leave me alone.
I’d done the right thing. I knew that. But it didn't stop the hollow ache in my chest, the echo of her broken sobs playing behind my eyelids every time I tried to rest. It didn't stop me from wondering, in my weakest moments, if I should have just given her what she wanted—the oblivion of a kiss, the temporary escape from the fear tearing her apart.
By the time dawn broke through the cabin window, I'd given up on sleep entirely.
My body felt like lead, but my mind was a racehorse, running away with all the things that could possibly happen.
And I needed to make sure she was okay. That she wasn't dealing with this shit alone, and that she'd managed to get some rest, at least, seeing as we couldn’t leave last night. Because if there was one thing I’d quickly come to know about her, it was that she preferred shouldering things on her own.
The morning air had that particular bite that only came with early hours; sharp and clean, cutting through the fog of exhaustion that clung to me. I made my way across the campground, the dew-soaked grass dampening my sneakers as I headed toward the Blizzard Belles' cabin.
Instead of Hailey, I found Gina pacing outside, phone pressed to her ear, her expression tense as she spoke in low, urgent tones. She spotted me approaching and immediately straightened, ending her call abruptly.
“Summers.” Her greeting was clipped, cautious.
“Hey.” I tried for casual, but the tension thrumming through my body caught in my throat. “Is Hailey up yet? I wanted to check on her before—”
“She's busy,” Gina cut me off, shifting her weight to block the cabin door more fully. “Getting ready for…” She hesitated, something flickering in her eyes. “She just needs some space right now.”
What the hell? The evasion was so obvious it might as well have been painted across her forehead in neon letters.
My heart rate kicked up a notch, that persistent anxiety from last night flooding back with renewed force, filling every empty space inside me with a cold, creeping dread.
I didn’t like the feeling that was brewing in my stomach.
“Whitehall,” I said, keeping my voice low, “I need to know if she's okay.”
Gina's expression softened fractionally. “Look, Summers—”
“Please.” The word felt raw in my throat. “I just need to make sure she's alright. You can help me with that much, can’t you?”
She studied me for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze. “She's…” But whatever she'd been about to say died on her lips as her eyes caught on something over my shoulder. “Shit.”
I turned, following her gaze, and spotted a familiar figure striding purposefully toward the parking lot.
Hailey.
Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, her face a mask of rigid control as she moved with quick, efficient steps toward the Northgate University hockey teams' bus.
Even from this distance, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her stride that had nothing to do with her injured ankle.
She was leaving. The realization blew a hole in my chest. She was really fucking leaving.
“Hailey!” I called, already jogging to catch up, ignoring Gina's hissed “Summers, don’t—” behind me.
At the sound of my voice, Hailey froze, her entire body going rigid. For a moment, she didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe. Then, with visible reluctance, she turned to face me.
The Hailey who met my gaze wasn’t the same woman who’d broken down in my arms last night. This version had rebuilt her walls overnight, higher and thicker than ever before. The vulnerability, the raw emotion I’d witnessed—all of it was locked away behind an impenetrable fortress of sheer ice.
Her eyes, which had been so expressive, so full of devastating pain just hours ago, were now flat and cold, reflecting nothing back but my own desperate reflection.
"Hey," I said, suddenly uncertain under the weight of her cold stare. My voice came out softer than I intended, betraying too much. “Are you…Are you okay? I mean—”
“Fine.” The word was clipped, cold, a dismissal as effective as a door slammed in my face. One syllable, sharp enough to draw blood.
I searched her face for any hint of the woman who'd clung to me in the darkness, who'd trusted me enough to fall apart in my arms. Something was off. This wasn't just Hailey trying to keep it together after a rough night. This was... different. This was…fucking scary .
But I steeled my spine against the fear battering against my ribcage. No. I couldn’t let my thoughts spiral towards the worst. Not now. Not after knowing what she was trying to contain within that icy wall of composure.
So, I took a step toward her, brows drawing together. “That's not very convincing.”
She took a half-step back, her shoulders tensing. “I told you I'm fine.” Her voice was clipped, each word bitten off. “I don't need you checking up on me like I’m some project of yours.”
What? Where the hell did she get that idea from? “That's not—”
“What?” She cut me off. “Not what you're doing? Because it sure looks like it from where I'm standing.” The words came faster now, sharper. “I don't need your concern or your pity or whatever this is.”
I stared at her, trying to reconcile this person with the woman who'd broken down in my arms just hours ago. It felt like whiplash. “This isn’t pity,” I forced my tone to remain calm, doing my damnedest to suppress the frantic panic battering within my ribcage, fighting to get out.
“I was worried about you. After last night, I wanted—"
“Last night was a mistake,” she snapped, color rising in her cheeks. “It was no big deal. Get over it. It didn't mean anything .”
She was obviously talking about asking me to kiss her, and even though I’d figured that out already—that it was a mistake she’d regret making, my blood still turned to ice inside my veins, slowing my heart rate. My feet were rooted to the ground, and I couldn't move, even if I wanted to.
“What?” That was my genius reply. But it was the only thing my brain could coherently form in that moment. Because, the only sound ringing in my head was one dreadful scream.
Her eyes flashed then, and for a split second, I caught a glimpse of something behind that icy facade—not just anger, but something else, something raw and complicated that I couldn't decode. “Why do you even care, Summers?”
The question hit me hard. Not because it was unexpected, but because it was so fundamentally… wrong . How could she ask that? After…after everything ?
I flinched, unable to hide my reaction, like she'd just slapped me across the face instead of simply speaking those five words. They might as well have been barbed with razors.
Behind her, both our teams were approaching—the Rink Runners with their gear bags, the Blizzard Belles emerging from their cabin set to leave. Probably the worst time to have this conversation, but it was the perfect timing for a public execution.
“Are you asking because you really don't know?” I kept my voice quiet, fighting to keep the hurt from bleeding through. The words came out steady, but inside, something was cracking, fine fissures spreading through whatever remained of my composure.
Was she really doing this because she didn't know my feelings? But…she couldn't not know, right? At the very least, she should know that my concern for her was genuine. Right?
Right. Because, as soon as that question fell from my lips, Hailey's expression instantly shuttered and she scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
“Yeah, right.” Her voice dropped, cold and flat.
“Your little flirting game.” She said, words flippant but perfectly edged to flay me right in the heart.
And this time, it didn't even look like she was doing it on purpose.
“Don’t you think it's time to stop now? I've played along for long enough.
I'm not interested in being your entertainment anymore.”
People talked a lot about broken hearts, and how their hearts shattered like glass. But mine was a distressed shredding, the veins and aortas tearing as she ripped it apart between her fingers.
And she wasn't done. No, I saw the frantic savagery flitting in the windows of her eyes a split second before she added,
“Quit acting like some lovesick puppy and leave me alone. It’s fucking embarrassing.”
As soon as those words dispersed between us, something inside me cracked open—a dam breaking after years of careful maintenance, and the world around me sharpened to painful clarity, as if every sound, every color suddenly became too intense .
I felt naked. And so fucking stupid. Like I was the only one who'd believed that last night had meant something. That I was finally getting through to her. That the walls between us had finally started to crumble.
Two years of patient pursuit. Two years of fighting for whatever scraps of attention she was willing to throw my way.
Two years of wishing she'd finally see me.
But it looked like I hadn't been patient enough, and I'd let myself get too excited and I'd ruined everything.
Because all that had just amounted to, was this moment right here: her looking at me like I was nothing more than an annoyance—that same recurring nightmare that haunted me—even after the way I'd held her while she fell apart in my arms last night.
Even after I'd given her everything I possibly could without compromising what I knew she would regret.
And I didn't even know when my mouth opened, or what the hell I was going to say, but I only realized I was talking halfway through my words.
“Maybe if you stopped running for five seconds," I stepped closer too, my voice coming out as a low growl that I barely recognized as my own, each word vibrating with an emotion I'd never allowed myself to show her before, “you'd realize I'm not the one you're trying to push away.”
Her eyes widened, that perfect mask slipping for just a fraction of a second. I caught the flash of shock, of recognition, before she could lock it down again.
“I know you don't hate me, Hailey.” This whisper came out raw, scraped from somewhere deep inside me, from the place where I'd buried every rejection, every cold stare, every dismissal I'd ever experienced in my life.
“But if pretending does something for you, go ahead.
This is the fifth time you're running away. I guess…I should let you go.”
The words hurt me to say them, and when I stepped back, I caught the briefest flash in her eyes—guilt, maybe, or something equally complicated, a lightning strike of emotion across the stormy sky of her face—before they iced over again, freezing whatever moment of honesty might have existed between us.
And, without another word, she whirled around and climbed onto the bus, her back straight as a rod, not sparing me even a backward glance.
So that's your answer, huh.
An awkward silence descended as the rest of the Blizzard Belles filed onto the bus, their expressions ranging from confused to pitying to slightly amused. Not one of them met my eyes directly, their gazes sliding away like water off of glass.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, as the bus engine rumbled to life.
The sound felt like it was coming from very far away, muffled by the rushing of blood in my ears.
As the vehicle pulled away, dust swirling in its wake, the reality of what had just happened crashed over me like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under completely.
So that was it, huh? My long game. My patient pursuit. All the careful steps forward, the slow building of something like trust between us. All of that had just gone up in fucking flames, the ashes blowing away on the morning breeze, scattered beyond recovery.
Dylan cleared his throat beside me, his presence a solid reminder that I wasn't alone, even if it felt that way. “Hey, man—”
I turned to face my team, the mask of charm I'd perfected over years slipping back into place with practiced ease, fitting over the raw wounds of my heart like a second skin.
“I guess it's just us boys for the next forty-six hours, huh?” I said, forcing brightness into my tone with the same determination that had kept me pursuing Hailey for two years. “Let's do our best.”
But I…I was barely a living thing.