Chapter 50
Day One - Rachel
"Rachel? What's wrong?"
"Mac left. He said he needs space. He said I keep shutting him out and he can't—" Rachel's voice broke. "Dr. Reyes, I think I'm losing him."
Dr. Reyes' office was on the second floor of an old Victorian house that had been converted into therapy suites. Rachel had been coming here for six months, but she'd never really looked at the space before. Always too focused on surviving the session to notice the details.
Now, sitting in the familiar armchair, sage green velvet, worn soft at the arms, Rachel found herself cataloging everything.
Dr. Reyes was in her mid-fifties, with silver-streaked black hair pulled back in a neat bun and reading glasses perpetually perched on top of her head. She wore a burgundy cardigan today. She had kind eyes.
The office smelled like lavender and old books. A diffuser hummed quietly in the corner. The walls were cream-colored, decorated with abstract art that Rachel had never paid attention to before.
But today, she fixated on one particular painting: a woman standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out at a vast ocean. Alone but not lonely. Free but terrified.
Rachel understood that feeling viscerally.
"Tell me what happened," Dr. Reyes said gently, her pen poised over her notepad.
Rachel explained everything. Brad. The meeting. Mac's hurt. The way she'd chosen closure over him.
Dr. Reyes listened without interrupting, her expression neutral but present. When Rachel finished, she set down her pen.
"So what do you want to do?" Dr. Reyes asked. "How do you want to fix this?"
"I don't know how."
"Rachel, I'm going to ask you something difficult." Dr. Reyes leaned forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. "Do you want to fix this? Or do you want Mac to come back so you can keep doing things the same way?"
Rachel was staring at the painting. The woman on the cliff. The endless ocean.
"Because if you want Mac back," Dr. Reyes continued gently, "you need to actually change, to let him be a part of your life.
Even if it means just letting him drive you to a meeting with your ex, or talking about your feelings.
You need to not promise to make an effort, but actually do the work.
Just like he is. Are you ready for that? "
Rachel thought about Mac's face. The devastation. The exhaustion from fighting for her. How he always came running back no matter what she’d done or said.
"Yes," she said. "I'm ready."
"Good." Dr. Reyes picked up her pen again. "Then let's get to work."
Day Two - Mac
Mac sat at Cole's kitchen table, staring at his coffee going cold.
The mug said "World's Okayest Captain" it was a gag gift from Luke last Christmas. Mac traced the letters with his thumb, not drinking.
Cole moved around the kitchen, making eggs even though it was 2 PM. The smell filled the space: butter, salt, the slight char of overcooked edges. Mac's stomach churned.
"Have you talked to her?" Cole asked, sliding a plate in front of Mac.
"No. She texted yesterday asking if I was okay. I said I needed time." Mac poked at the eggs without eating. "Cole, did I make a mistake? Leaving?"
"I don't know. Did you?"
"I feel like I abandoned her—"
"Mac, you didn't abandon her." Cole sat across from him, his own plate untouched. "You told her you need space to think. That's not abandonment. That's self-preservation."
"What if she thinks I'm done?"
"Then she needs to trust that you meant what you said, that this isn't a breakup, just space." Cole's expression softened. "Mac, you look terrible. When's the last time you slept?"
Mac didn't answer. He'd spent last night in Cole's guest room, staring at the ceiling, his phone clutched in his hand. Waiting for Rachel to call. To text. To fight for them.
Nothing.
"I miss her," Mac admitted quietly.
"I know."
Mac finally took a bite of eggs. They tasted like cardboard in his mouth, but he forced himself to swallow.
Day Three - Rachel
Rachel sat in Dr. Reyes' office again, the same green velvet chair, the same lavender smell, the same painting of the woman on the cliff.
But today, something was different. Today, Rachel was ready to go deeper.
"I keep trying to figure out when it started," Rachel said, twisting a tissue in her hands. "The fear. And I keep coming back to my dad leaving when I was eight."
"Tell me about that." Dr. Reyes' voice was soft, encouraging.
The diffuser hummed in the corner. Outside, Rachel could hear birds singing. Life continuing, oblivious to her pain.
"One day he was there. The next day he was gone. No explanation. Just... gone." Rachel's voice cracked. "And I remember thinking that if I'd been better, less needy, less loud, less me, maybe he would've stayed."
"So you learned to protect yourself."
"I learned that people leave. That love isn't permanent.
That I needed to keep part of myself separate so it wouldn't hurt as much when they left.
" Rachel looked up at Dr. Reyes, her vision blurry with tears.
"But Mac isn't my dad. Or Brad. Mac has done nothing but prove he's staying.
And I'm still waiting for him to leave."
Dr. Reyes made a note. "What would it look like to trust that Mac is staying?"
Rachel stared at the painting again. The woman on the cliff, arms spread wide, facing the vast unknown.
"It would mean letting him all the way in. No escape routes. Trusting that even when I mess up, he won't leave me."
"Can you do that?"
"I don't know." Rachel's voice was barely a whisper. "But I want to try."
Day Four - Mac
Mac's phone buzzed during practice. Sophie.
Sophie: Rachel's doing the work. Real work. Therapy every day this week. She's not just saying she'll change: she's actually changing.
Mac read the text three times, standing in the locker room, his gear half-on.
His chest tightened. Therapy. Every day. While he was hiding at Cole's, sleeping on a too-short couch, pretending he'd needed space when really he'd just been scared and hurt.
He shouldn't have left. The thought had kept him up for four nights straight. Rachel had been shutting him out, wouldn't let him in, and instead of fighting harder, he'd taken the easy way out. Said he needed space. Walked away.
What kind of person walks away from someone they love when they're hurting?
Jamie appeared beside him. "You okay?"
"Sophie says Rachel's in therapy. Every day."
"That's good, right?"
"I guess." Mac sat on the bench, suddenly exhausted. "I shouldn't have left, Jamie. She was pushing me away and I just... let her. Told myself I was respecting her boundaries when really I was just scared."
"Scared of what?"
"That if I pushed, she'd break. Or that she'd tell me it was over." Mac dropped his head into his hands. "So I ran. Called it 'space.' And now she's doing the work and I'm—"
"Hiding at Cole's eating terrible eggs?"
Mac looked up. "Yeah."
"What if it's not enough? What if she works on herself and we still can't make it work?"
Jamie sat beside him, quiet for a moment. "Then at least you'll know. But Mac, do you want it to work?"
"More than anything."
"Then stop hiding. You think space is what she needs? Maybe she's sitting in that apartment thinking you gave up. That when she needed you to fight, you walked away."
Mac's stomach dropped. "I texted her last night—"
"Texts aren't showing up. They're not fighting." Jamie stood. "The Mac I know doesn't give up on people he loves. He shows up. He fights. Even when it's hard."
Mac managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Besides Cole’s eggs were pretty bad."
"His eggs are always bad. The man can't cook." Jamie clapped Mac's shoulder. "So go home. Figure out what you want to say. And then go fight for her."
Mac stared at his phone, at Sophie's text.
Doing the work. Was he doing the work as well?
No. He was hiding. Calling it space. Waiting for permission that wasn't coming.
Rachel was facing her demons. Fighting through her trauma.
And he'd walked away the moment it got hard.
Mac stood up, determination settling in his chest. "I need to win her back. Something with a lot of flowers."
"Practice isn't over—"
"I need to go plan this properly!"
Jamie grinned. "There he is."
He'd asked for space. That was the mistake.
Time to stop running. Time to fight.
Day Five - Rachel
Rachel sat in Dr. Reyes' office, the afternoon sun streaming through the window, casting golden light across the cream walls.
This was her fourth session in five days. Dr. Reyes had cleared her schedule, recognizing the crisis for what it was.
"I had a realization last night," Rachel said, her voice steady for the first time all week.
"Tell me."
"I've been so focused on protecting myself from Mac leaving that I never stopped to think, what if I'm the one who leaves?" Rachel's hands were clasped in her lap, knuckles white. "What if I push him away and then I blame him for leaving when really, I did it?"
Dr. Reyes waited, letting Rachel continue.
"Mac's not going anywhere. He's been here the whole time, fighting for me, proving himself. And I keep looking for proof that he'll leave when the real problem is me. I'm the one who doesn't trust. I'm the one who keeps one foot out the door."
Rachel looked up at Dr. Reyes, tears streaming down her face.
"I need to fight for him. The way he fought for me. I need to show him I'm choosing him. Publicly. Vulnerably. The way he chose me."
Dr. Reyes smiled slightly like a rare expression of approval. "What does that look like?"
Rachel thought about Mac bringing her flowers at the library.
"I know exactly what it looks like."
Day Six - Mac
Mac woke up in Cole's guest room to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.
Six days since he'd slept in his own bed. Six days since he'd woken up next to Rachel.
He rolled over and grabbed his phone. No new messages.
His chest ached with physical pain, like someone had reached in and squeezed his heart.
Downstairs, he found Cole making more terrible eggs.
"You need to stop trying," Mac said, pouring himself coffee. At least Cole could make coffee. "Seriously. Order takeout."
"I'm trying to be a good host."
"You're trying to poison me."
Cole flipped him off but scraped the eggs into the trash.
They sat at the table with coffee.
"Tomorrow's the game against Burlington," Cole said finally.
"I know." Mac took a long drink of coffee. "After the game. That's when I'm doing it."
Cole looked up. "Doing what?"
"Winning her back." Mac pulled out his phone, opening his notes app where he'd been planning for the past two days. "I've got it all figured out. After we win, and we will win, I'm going straight to the library. Sophie's going to make sure Rachel is busy, says she needs help with something."
"Sophie's in on this?"
"Of course Sophie's in on this. I needed backup.
Although she was weird about it." Mac scrolled through his notes.
"I've got two dozen sunflowers being delivered to the library at 5 PM.
Her favorite. Jamie's setting up string lights in the reading nook, the one by the window where we had our first real conversation. "
Cole raised an eyebrow. "You've really thought this through."
"I've had six days and nothing else to think about." Mac's jaw tightened. "I'm not losing her, Cole. Not to Derek Matthews. Not to her fear. Not to my own stupidity."
"What are you going to say?"
Mac set down his phone. "I've been rehearsing.
I know exactly what I need to tell her. That I'm sorry.
That I should never have doubted her. That I should have fought for us instead of running when things got hard.
" He paused. "That I love her. That I'm not going anywhere.
That she can take all the time she needs to heal, but I'll be right there, waiting, fighting, whatever she needs. "
"That's good, Mac."
"It has to be. This is my shot." Mac ran a hand through his hair. "After the game. Everything will be ready. Sunflowers, lights, the speech. I'll have just come off the ice, pumped full of adrenaline from beating Burlington. It'll be perfect."
"What if she's not ready?"
"Then I'll wait. But at least she'll know I'm not giving up." Mac's voice was firm. "I walked away once. I'm not making that mistake again."
Cole studied him for a moment. "You really love her."
"More than anything." Mac looked at his notes again, at the carefully planned timeline, the backup plans, the speech he'd rewritten seventeen times. "So yeah. Tomorrow night. After we destroy Burlington on their own ice. That's when I get her back."
But Mac wasn't excited as he usually was before a game. And he knew exactly why.
The game was just the first part. The easy part.
Winning Rachel back? That was the game that really mattered.
And he couldn't afford to lose.