Chapter 15
OWEN
That was the whole point of dragging myself out of bed before the sun rose and stumbling through my apartment in the dark.
There were no coaches, teammates, or other skaters to navigate around.
Just silence and open ice giving me enough space to skate until my lungs burned and my legs screamed.
Until there was nothing left in my head except the sound of my heavy breathing.
But this morning, I wasn’t alone.
Harlow.
I should have announced myself, but I didn’t. I sank into one of the cold plastic seats in the upper rows and watched.
She was practicing something, a routine, or maybe she was killing time the way I did when my brain got too loud.
Her movements were graceful in a way that mine would never be, all soft edges and flowing lines, the opposite of the sharp, aggressive style of hockey.
Where I attacked the ice, she danced with it.
From this distance, I could barely make out her features, but I didn’t need to see them clearly.
I had them memorized. The sensual curve of her lips and the delicate slope of her nose.
The stubborn set of her jaw and those blue eyes that could cut through steel when she was angry, which, lately, was every time she looked at me.
She executed a perfect spin, arms tucked tight against her before extending outward as she slowed, and something twisted painfully between my lungs.
God, she was beautiful.
She was wearing black leggings that hugged every curve of her petite frame and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, shorter strands escaping to frame her face, and even from here, I could see the concentration furrowing her brow.
If it wasn’t for Jax and the entire dynamic of our friend group, I wouldn’t even hesitate to be with Harlow. She was incredible, but I couldn’t.
I leaned back in my seat, the plastic creaking slightly under my weight, as I watched her.
Outside, the world was probably starting to wake up, but in here, time stopped.
In here, it was just her and me, and the growing realization that I had absolutely no right to be doing what I was doing.
Harlow glided backward. She looked tired. The kind of tired that came from sleepless nights and too many thoughts and a house full of empty rooms.
Everyone left me.
Her words from the parking lot echoed through my skull. The raw pain in her voice when she’d said it, the way her eyes had gone glassy before she’d forced herself to look away.
I did that. Maybe not directly, but I made it worse by taking the loneliness she was already drowning in and adding another weight to it, all because I couldn’t figure out my own shit.
She attempted something more complicated now, a jump, though I didn’t know enough about figure skating to identify it.
Her body lifted off the ice, rotating once in the air before landing with a slight wobble that she corrected almost immediately.
A small, private smile crossed her face, and the sight of it hit me somewhere beneath my ribs.
When was the last time I’d seen her smile like that?
Not since before the wedding. Not since before...
I ran a hand down my face, the stubble on my jaw scratching against my palm. I was up half the night, staring at my ceiling and replaying every conversation we’d had over the past month. Every time I said the wrong thing. Every time I watched her walk away and did nothing to stop her.
The thing was, I understood why she was angry. I understood why she wanted nothing to do with me. I’d been a coward at the wedding, asking her to sneak into my room like some dirty secret I was ashamed of.
Harlow slowed to a stop near the boards, her chest rising and falling, and for a moment, she just stood there. Staring at nothing. Her shoulders curved inward slightly.
You still have me, I told her.
And she looked at me like I offered her something broken.
I closed my eyes, pressing my thumb and forefinger against them until spots danced behind my lids.
What would it be like? The thought crept in before I could stop it, treacherous and warm.
What would it be like if things were different?
If Jax wasn’t my best friend, if that night had never happened, if I had met her somewhere else, under different circumstances.
No history. No baggage. No complicated web of loyalties and guilt.
Just her.. Just me.
What would it be like for her to be mine?
The thought settled, and I could picture it so clearly. Walking into that bar with her on my arm, no secrets, no hiding. Kissing her in public where everyone could see. Waking up next to her and actually remembering it.
I would never know what she sounded like that night or what she looked like with her guard down, her walls lowered, trusting me with something she had never given anyone else. The one memory I should have treasured... was just... gone.
The frustration of it burned through me.
I tried, for the hundredth time, to remember. Forced my mind back to that night, searching for anything. But there was nothing.
She deserved better than that.
She deserved better than me.
I opened my eyes as she moved from one end of the rink to the other, slower now. She traced lazy figure eights across the ice, and I wondered what she was thinking about. Whether she was reliving the same moments I was. Whether she hated me as much as I hated myself right now.
The smart thing to do would be to leave. Slip out the way I’d come, let her have this space, this moment of peace. She didn’t need me intruding on her solitude. Didn’t need another reminder of everything I’d done wrong.
But God, I didn’t want to go.
I stood quietly, careful not to let the seat creak, and gathered my bag from where I’d dropped it on the floor. Below me, Harlow was skating toward the rink exit.
You still have me, I’d told her.
I needed to figure out a way to fix this.
I slipped out the back entrance and squinted. The sun was rising now.
A new day. Same mess.
My thoughts drifted back to Harlow, about the impossibility of wanting something I could never have.