Chapter 30
TY
The elevator ticks down one floor at a time. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen.
I stare at the glowing numbers like I can force the damn thing to move faster with sheer willpower alone, my reflection staring back at me in the brushed steel doors. Hoodie. Ball cap. The kind of exhausted that plants itself behind your eyes no matter how much sleep you get.
My knee bounces once. Then again. I check the time on my phone even though I already know it’s only been one minute since I looked the last time.
But if I leave now, I can make it to the rink before Vivian finishes the workshop with the girls. I can wait outside like some complete psychopath pretending I just happened to be there.
I scrub a hand down my jaw and exhale hard through my nose.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown man. I’ve blocked shots with my face, I’ve fought guys twice my size, and somehow the idea of seeing one woman walk out of a community room has me feeling like I’m about to throw up in the elevator of my own condo building.
Nine.
Eight.
The thing is, I don’t actually know what I’m going to say when I see her. I freaked out feels too trite, but I’m sorry feels too late.
The elevator moves lower.
Six.
Five.
I think about the playlist again. About hearing those songs playing over the din in the bar, like they were calling out to me.
I know that sounds cheesy, but still…realizing Vivian had basically been talking to me for days without saying a single word out loud.
I close my eyes briefly and lean my head back against the wall.
I deserve every second of this torture.
The elevator slows and the doors slide open, depositing me in the lobby.
And there she is.
Walking up the front steps outside the glass entrance of my building like the universe itself got tired of watching me suffer. For one perfect second, she doesn’t see me.
Her hair is long and loose despite the wind coming off the water, and she has one hand curled around her purse, while the other presses the bell on the security panel outside.
My entire chest caves in so fast it almost hurts. I cross the lobby in two big steps, pushing the door open and causing her to jump back in surprise.
I step outside, and the door swings shut behind me with a muted thud. Suddenly the whole street feels suspended in stares and silence.
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. To be fair, mine probably do too, but neither of us moves.
I can hear my own pulse hammering inside me like it’s trying to break free.
She looks beautiful. Not polished-beautiful. Not effort-beautiful. No, Vivian Sullivan is real beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the heat, but she’s smiling, bright green eyes sparkling in the sunshine.
“Hey.” It’s pathetic, honestly. One tiny word after not talking this past week. After disappearing.
But something in her expression flickers anyway. Relief maybe. Or maybe I’m just desperate enough to imagine it.
“Hey,” she says back.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhale slowly, and step in front of her before I can second-guess it.
“I was on my way to the practice rink—” I begin.
“I just came from the rink—” she starts at the same time. We both stop, pausing and taking a moment to break the awkwardness with a laugh.
“You go,” I say, sweeping my hand out.
“Emma told me you were here,” she says, her eyes finding mine. “She may or may not have indicated that I should come see you.”
I drop my gaze for a second, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sounds like her.”
I smile despite myself, but it fades almost as quickly as it comes. Here’s Vivian, standing in front of me after a week where I disappeared into my own head, and suddenly every excuse I come up with feels thin and stupid.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Her expression softens immediately, which somehow makes it worse. “Ty—”
“No, let me say it.” I shift closer, lowering my voice. “I handled this badly.”
She doesn’t interrupt me this time. Just waits. And the fact that she waits—patient and open and willing to listen—nearly undoes me all over again.
“I think...” I exhale slowly, the words scraping their way out. “I know I got overwhelmed. It built up. There was a lot happening, and converging at once, and then...you. You came into my life at the exact same time.”
Her eyes flicker slightly.
“And instead of it feeling bad,” I continue, “it felt too important.”
The confession hangs between us. I laugh once under my breath, but there’s no humor in it.
“You see me in a way I don’t think anyone ever has before, Vivian.
And I’m not saying nobody’s been there for me because they have.
My teammates. Emma. People in my life have shown up for me plenty.
” My throat tightens. “But you listen to me differently. You pay attention differently. You make me feel…” I search for the word and fail anyway. “Known, I guess.”
Her whole expression melts, and my chest pulls tight with it.
“And honestly?” I admit. “That scared me.”
I glance toward the street briefly before looking back at her.
“I think part of me started worrying I was going to become this weight you’d have to carry while I sorted myself out. Like I’d drag you into all of this mess in my head before I even understood it myself.”
“Ty.”
“And this week...” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Yeah. It got dark for a minute. I was in my own head too much. But none of that was because of us.” My voice turns firmer there because I need her to hear it. “That part was me. I didn’t know how to bring you into it.”
For a moment she looks at me. Then she steps closer.
“So we talk about it,” she says simply, her mouth curving. “That’s all.”
She’s so close I can smell her perfume. She smells like coconut and citrus and the kind of warmth my body recognizes before my brain catches up. “That’s all?”
“If this”—she motions between us—“becomes something real, there are going to be moments where one of us is struggling and the other one has to step in.”
She laughs under her breath, shaking her head at herself.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there are probably going to be times where I have to ask for help.”
I bark out a surprised laugh at that. My Vivian. Warmth, honesty, and courage wrapped up in one beautiful woman standing with me, outside my building, pouring it all out on this gorgeous sunny day.
“But that’s what I want,” I tell her immediately. “I want to help you. If I tell you I’m here, I mean it. I want to be the man who shows up for you.”
Something emotional flickers across her face. Then she closes the distance between us completely and slides her arms around my waist.
I don’t even think before pulling her into me.
“You are that man,” she says quietly against my chest. “Just like I’m the woman learning how to actually let somebody help me.” She tips her head back enough to look at me. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You’re the one who shows up. I’m the one learning not to do everything alone.”
A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. “Sounds terrifying.”
She giggles. “Absolutely horrifying.”
My arms tighten around her. “I’m really glad you came here. To me.”
She tilts her head. “Why?”
“Because this is where it started,” I say, as her eyes lift to mine. “And I don’t want to do this anywhere else,” I add, voice quieter now, but steadier. “I need it to be here.”
I step closer. Enough that she knows I’m not going anywhere this time.
“Since the moment I met you…” I start, then shake my head slightly. “No, before that. From the first second I really looked at you, I knew something was different.”
Her eyes flicker, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“I could see you,” I say, quieter now. “And I don’t mean that in some…surface way. I mean, I could actually look at you. Hold your gaze and stay there, connected. That doesn’t happen for me. Not like that.”
I let out a breath, steadying myself.
“You give me somewhere to land, Vivian. Like…a base. A place where I can park everything for a minute and—breathe.” My jaw tightens slightly. “And I didn’t even realize how much I needed that until you were there.”
My gaze drops for a second, then comes back to hers.
“But I’m not perfect,” I say, more firmly now. “And when everything fell apart the other day, when I dropped all of it—I panicked.”
I swallow. “All I could think was… how could someone like you ever fall in love with someone like me? When I can’t even get it together enough to show up for you for one day the way I wanted to.”
“Ty, no,” she says into my chest, pulling back just enough to look at me. “How could I not be falling in love with you?”
The words hit hard. Fast.
“You’ve done nothing but show me who you are,” she continues, her voice steady but full. “No pretending. Just you.”
She lets out a small breath, shaking her head.
“You make me laugh. You’re kind and charming, and the kind of person who is there even when everything tips upside down. And it’s like…” She glances away for half a second, then back. “Like the world just kept putting us in front of each other, over and over again, until we paid attention.”
A small, disbelieving smile tugs at her mouth as her hand lifts slightly, brushing my chest.
“You have this way of seeing people,” she says. “Of reading what’s underneath everything. That empathy you have, it gets to me. In a way I didn’t expect.”
Her expression changes, something more vulnerable slipping in.
“I thought I was the one who messed things up. That letting you help me—” She stalls. “I was worried that I made everything harder for you.”
I shake my head immediately. “You didn’t…”
“We did this together,” she says gently. “And we’re not going to let it get there again.”
There’s a quiet beat between us as I mull over the words that have been on repeat in my head for days now. I look at her sitting there beside me, and it hits me all over again. It’s the crashing of a wave that is terrifying, grounding the certainty of it.
Somewhere along the way, she’s become the first person I want when things hurt. The first person I look for in every room. The only person who’s ever made my brain feel like it could unclench for a second.
And suddenly, keeping it in feels harder than saying it.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
The words land with more impact than anything else I’ve ever carried.
“I don’t know exactly what that means for me yet,” I admit. “I’ve never been here before. Not like this.”
Her brows lift slightly. “How can you even say that?”
A breath of a laugh escapes me, a little disbelieving.
“Because nothing prepared me for this,” I say. “For how it feels. Like I’ve been shot out of a cannon and caught in a feather bed at the same time.” I shake my head, searching for it. “Like everything is loud and quiet all at once, and I’m right here—with you—and it…fits.”
The corners of her mouth lift gently.
I step closer, my voice dropping. “You’re someone I respect. Someone I want to see win. And I know…” I pause, letting it settle. “I know if we do this together, we’re going to move through this world and leave something behind. Something that matters.”
She lets out a small laugh at that, shaking her head.
“Okay, that part was very you,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?” I step in closer. “Good.”
She’s still smiling when my hand comes up to her cheek. She closes her eyes for a second, leaning into my palm before she looks back at me.
“You know,” she says softly, “ever since I was a little girl, people always talked about wishes like they were attached to things. Birthday candles. Four-leaf clovers. Shooting stars. Rainbows after storms.” A small laugh slips out of her.
“Like the universe hid them inside moments and hoped we’d notice. ”
Her eyes lock on mine then, impossibly green and open.
“But you…” Her voice catches slightly. “You feel like the epitome of every wish I’ve ever made without even realizing I was making it.”
My heart stumbles so hard I forget how to breathe.
“I love you, Ty McCade,” she whispers, her fingers curling around my wrist where it rests against her cheek. “So much I think it hurts sometimes.”
The feeling that moves through me is bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced. Not even getting drafted could compare to this.
I don’t hesitate. I pull her tighter into my arms, holding her there—solid and real—like that’s the only thing that matters. Because right now, it is.
I don’t want anything else.
Just this.
Just her.
This moment, back where it all began. Outside my place, where it was nothing more than a simple Monday morning.
And now, everything’s different.
I dip my head, brushing another kiss against her lips, softer this time. Certain.
And for once, I don’t feel like I’m chasing the next step or trying to figure out how to get there.
For the first time in a very long time, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.