Chapter 31
The shower’s scalding hot, but I need it. My muscles ache in ways they never did on the ice. A full day at the garage does that, I guess. Wrenching, hauling, sweating— it’s not glamorous, but it’s mine.
I lean against the tile wall for a second, letting the water run over me. I’m not just tired. I’m… empty.
When I step out, I grab a towel and rub it over my hair before wrapping it around my waist. In the mirror, my tattoo catches my eye. Her eyes. Remy’s. Staring back at me from my arm like a goddamn brand.
I miss her. Not in some vague, distant way. It’s sharp, raw. A constant, gnawing ache that doesn’t go away no matter how busy I keep myself.
She’s in every thought, every quiet moment.
I drop the towel and pull on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, fingers moving on autopilot. Caleb’s not here— big surprise. He’s got practice or some Reaper meeting or whatever the hell else he’s picked up since stepping into my captain spot.
The Reapers. Hockey. All of it feels like another life.
I sold my car last week. The Camaro. I hated doing it, but cash is cash, and pride doesn’t pay rent. Caleb doesn’t take money from me for crashing here, but I make sure I chip in for groceries and keep my shit clean.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I glance at it—8:15. Time to head out for Maya’s party.
I sigh, grabbing my keys. Socializing is the last thing I want to do, but it’s Maya. She’s been the one bright spot in all this. She’s leaving, though, and I owe it to her to show up.
Caleb’s already at the party when I walk in. The place is packed— people I recognize, people I don’t. The lights are dim, and there’s a string of fairy lights zigzagging across the ceiling. The whole vibe is warm and casual, with music pumping just loud enough to make you lean in when you talk.
“Zane!” Maya calls, weaving through the crowd to hug me. She smells like whatever floral perfume she always wears.
“Hey, London girl,” I say, pulling back. “You ready for the big move?”
She grins, but there’s a touch of sadness in it. “Not really. But it’s happening, so…”
“Beer?” Caleb appears, holding out a bottle.
“Thanks.” I take it, twisting off the cap.
I sip as they chat about flights and packing. My attention drifts to the decorations— photos pinned to a wall, mostly of Maya with friends and family. Streamers in gold and black. A “Bon Voyage” banner over the kitchen.
It’s a good party. But I’m restless.
Then, the air shifts.
I don’t even see her at first—I just know .
When I turn, she’s walking in.
Remy.
She’s wearing a simple green dress that stops just above her knees, showing off her legs. Her glasses— those round frames she always pushes up her nose— catch the light. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders, and she’s clutching her bag like she’s not sure if she should stay.
For a second, I think I’m imagining her.
She spots me, and her gaze locks on mine.
I can’t move.
Then she’s walking toward me, threading through the crowd like she’s got a mission.
“Hi,” she says when she stops in front of me. Her voice is calm, steady.
I blink at her. “Hey.”
“Can we talk?”
I nod, dumbly, and gesture toward the door.
Outside, the air’s cooler, quieter. There’s a small patio with string lights and a couple of chairs, but we stand just off to the side.
I don’t even know where to start.
She beats me to it. “Maya came to see me.”
That pulls me up short. “She did?”
“She told me everything, Zane.” Her eyes search mine. “About your dad. About the garage. About…” She gestures vaguely, like the rest of the words are too big to say.
I swallow hard. “Remy, I—”
“No, let me finish.” She crosses her arms, but it’s not defensive. It’s like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I thought… I thought you were just like him. Your dad. Meddling, controlling. I thought you saw me as some charity case.”
“No.” The words burst out of me. “You were never that.”
She nods, slowly. “I know that now. But it’s taken me time to figure it out.”
I step closer, hesitant. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Remy. I swear. I know I can be controlling, manipulating, possessive… I know I fucked everything up.”
“You did fuck everything up,” she says, but there’s no bite in it. Just… honesty.
“I know.”
Her gaze drops to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me? About your dad cutting you off? About the garage?”
I laugh, bitterly. “What was I supposed to say?”
She stares at me, and I can’t read her expression.
“Fuck, I miss you,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “Every day, every fucking second, I miss you.”
Her face softens, just a little. “You hurt me, Zane.”
“I know,” I say, my voice rough. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
“You love me,” I say, stepping even closer.
She doesn’t deny it.
Instead, she looks up at me, her eyes shining. “Yeah… and?”
I reach for her, tentative, like she might bolt. When she doesn’t, I pull her into my arms, holding her tight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “For everything.”
Her arms wrap around me, and for the first time in weeks, I feel whole.
I pull away just enough to look at her, still holding her close. My heart’s racing, but it’s different now. It feels right. For the first time in a long time, I’m not just going through the motions.
“You don’t have to keep saying sorry,” Remy whispers, her fingers tracing the edge of my shirt like she’s reassuring herself I’m really here.
“I do,” I say, my voice low. “I hurt you, Remy. I can’t just walk away from that.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “And what now? You think we can just pick up where we left off?”
I chuckle, but it’s more of a nervous exhale than anything else. “I don’t know. But I damn well want to try.”
She bites her lip, glancing down for a second. “It’s not going to be easy, Zane.”
“I know,” I reply, my hand brushing the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer.
Her eyes flicker up to mine. “And you’re sure? This isn’t just because you saw me and felt guilty?”
“No.” My words come out firm. “I’m not doing this out of guilt. It’s you, Remy. It’s always been you.”
She sighs, looking conflicted, but her shoulders relax, and that’s enough. She finally gives me the smallest of smiles, one that hits me like a fucking punch to the gut.
“God, you’re impossible,” she mutters, but there’s no anger behind it.
“I know,” I reply, grinning like an idiot. “But you love me, so it’s your problem now.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s warmth in her gaze. “You are so full of yourself,” she teases softly.
Before I can stop myself, I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. This time it’s different— there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s just us, here, in this moment. Her hands curl into my hair, and I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, letting everything else fade away.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed.
“I’m not fucking up anything else from here on out,” I say, my voice thick. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s what you want.”
Her eyes search mine, soft but intense. “Then stay,” she whispers.
I smile, nodding.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not just saying words. I mean it. This time, I’m hers for good.