Chapter 32
I watch as the Bobcats make their way to the bench, my eyes never leaving Connor.
He’s been back in town for a week now, but I still haven’t found the courage to ask him if I can stay with him.
Tamara needs to book her flight this week, so I either need to suck it up and ask him, or suck it up and go stay with Sadie.
Connor’s been playing out of his mind tonight. I’d like to think he’s showing off for me, but I’m smarter than that. The two-week break was good for his groin injury, and the Bobcats are in a great position to make the playoffs if they can finish out the rest of the season the way they’re playing.
My mind drifts to the question I need to ask him, but more specifically, to his actual apartment. I’m still trying to figure out if I’ll be able to walk through that house, full of our broken dreams.
When I asked him why he did it, he answered simply, because I told you I would.
Okay, that was a frickin’ decade ago. Has he not met anyone special since?
I wanted more than anything to ask him about his love life, but every time I opened my mouth to do so, I chickened out.
Do I really want to know about his past relationships?
Hell, I don’t want him to know about mine but it’s pretty impossible to steer clear of that topic considering I’m divorced and now using Connor for his insurance.
The time I’ve spent with Connor since being in Green Bay has been a breath of fresh air.
Being new here in Wisconsin, I’m starting off fresh with everyone.
I’m still afraid to let my whole self show, but not with Connor.
Spending time with him is…nice. Really nice, actually.
I’m not self-conscious about anything when it comes to him.
He’s seen me at my best, and now he’s seeing me at my worst, but still, there’s no judgment there.
There’s no pressure to act a certain way.
I don’t have to watch what I say in fear I’ll strike a nerve.
The last half of my marriage with Bryan I was always on my toes, waiting for the blow up to happen.
But with Connor, I’m the most relaxed I’ve felt in a very long time, even after that horrible tilt test. It makes me wonder what it would be like to spend even more time with him.
The rest of the game is a hard-fought battle, but we hold the Colorado Storm off, winning the game 1–0. “Mackenzie with his first shutout of the year. I don’t want to jinx it, Ted, but man, these guys are off to a hot start after the break. Let’s hope they can keep it up.”
Ted and I break down the end of the game for the viewers, and once we’re finished he starts to pack up for the night.
I plan on staying for a bit longer to prepare for tomorrow’s game.
We have rare back-to-back home games this week, playing to get the remaining games in since the league missed two weeks of play, and I want to get a jump on my notes.
“Don’t stay too late, kiddo. You’ve had a long day,” Ted says from the door of the booth.
His sentiment hits me square in the chest. I turn in my chair and give him my warmest smile. “I won’t. I’ll even set a timer for a half hour to hold myself accountable.”
Ted nods and wishes me a good night.
Checking my heart rate on my smart watch, I see that I’m still within normal range but it’s creeping up slowly after a long night of work. I set the timer on my phone, knowing I shouldn’t stay longer than thirty minutes, and get to work.
When the alarm goes off signaling my time is up, I put my pen down and clean up my space. I’m feeling prepared for tomorrow’s game, but I’m also feeling something else.
Happy.
I’m assuming no one on the team is going out tonight since they play again tomorrow, so I make my way toward the lobby to call a rideshare.
My car has been acting up again so I didn’t drive today.
I bypass the room for the families, not wanting to stay here any longer.
I may not be displaying any symptoms right now but fuck, I am tired.
I turn the corner to where the elevators are and see a six-foot-five hunk of man standing off to the side, chatting with a security guard. The moment he spots me, he says something to the man, shakes his hand, then starts heading my way.
My heart picks up speed, but for once I know it has nothing to do with illness and everything to do with the man standing in front of me.
“Nice game tonight. That was one hell of a hit on Brooks in the third. You were playing up like a man possessed.”
Connor stuffs his hands in the pocket of his black dress pants and rocks back on his heels. “Thanks. I may have been showing off a bit.”
Does he mean for me? His face gives nothing away. Not wanting to know for sure, I change the subject.
“Were you waiting for someone?” I look around for Niko or any of his teammates he could’ve been waiting for.
“Yeah, I was.”
I give him a soft smile. “Well, let me get out of your way.” I start to walk around him but don’t get farther than two steps when I feel his hand on my upper arm. I stop and turn to face him and am met with a beatific smile.
“Avery. I was waiting for you.”
He drops his hand and I push my hair out of my face nervously. “Oh.”
Connor laughs, and it’s music to my ears. “Yeah, oh. We’ve barely spent any time together since I got back from Sweden and I wanted to see you. Even if it meant I only got to walk you to your car and say good night.”
I want to squeal with joy but I also know he doesn’t need the ego boost. Somehow I manage to stay calm when I respond.
“Actually, I didn’t drive today. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”
His eyes narrow, and I know he wants to ask about my car, but instead steps behind me and places a hand on my lower back. “It would be my honor.”
Connor leads me to the players’ exit and helps lift me into his truck like it’s second nature. There’s no hesitation in the way his hand settles on my waist, no flicker of uncertainty in my chest when I place my hand in his. And maybe that’s what this is now—second nature.
A few weeks ago, every touch felt loaded, like one wrong move would snap whatever fragile thing was building between us. But now there’s a quiet confidence in it. His hands don’t hesitate, and I don’t pull away.
Somewhere between our first run-in at the hospital, the test, and the quiet moments in between, the sharp edges between us have worn down. What’s left feels easy. It’s still him. Still us.
It feels like we can finally stop pretending we don’t belong here.
Connor pulls out of the parking lot and this time he turns left to head toward Tamara’s place, instead of his.
The disappointment I feel takes me by surprise.
What was I expecting? To go hang out at his place?
I guess maybe a part of me was. But this is better.
The lines between us can’t be blurred. This thing that’s happening between us is for one reason only, and that’s for me to get the help I finally need.
I push the disappointment aside and reach for his phone. “Can I turn on some music?”
He glances my way quickly and nods. “Sure.”
Picking up his phone, I swipe the screen but it asks for a passcode. I go to hand him his phone. “It’s asking for your code.”
Connor keeps his hands on the wheel and doesn’t so much as look my way when he says, “0-1-1-1-9-8.”
I pause for a beat, surprised he so easily gave me access to his phone. No suspicion, no hesitation, no grabbing it back from me. Just immediate trust.
And then the numbers register and all of the air is sucked from my lungs.
Seconds tick by and I still haven’t moved. When I still haven’t played any music, Connor finally turns his head toward me. He glances to the road and back a few times.
“Need help picking a song?”
He’s just going to pretend like this isn’t a big deal? Yeah, not going to let this one pass by this time.
“Your passcode is still my birthday?”
I barely recognize my own voice when I say it. It’s quiet and uneasy in a way I didn’t mean for it to be.
Connor doesn’t answer right away. The air in the truck is thick with tension now. His hands stay locked on the wheel, his focus fixed straight ahead on the road. But I see it, the slight tightening in his grip, the way he struggles to swallow.
“It’s easy to remember.”
His words do something to me. Because it isn’t just the passcode.
It’s his apartment, built from pieces of a dream we came up with together. It’s the way he showed up for me, took care of me, like there was no other option for him. It’s his phone still secured by a piece of me like I never stopped mattering to him.
Like I never stopped being his.
The spot between my ribcage aches with it all. It’s too full, like I don’t know what to do with this information and don’t know where to put all of it.
I should say something, but my words fail me. I should make him explain and demand to know why he held onto all of this when I thought he completely moved on from me. But the words won’t come.
Because what if I ask and I’m wrong? I don’t think I could handle that. So instead, I stay quiet.
The music never starts, and the screen dims in my hand.
I just sit here, staring out the window, trying to steady something inside of me that has suddenly come back to life. The part that has always belonged to him.