Chapter 22
Ethan
Natalie walks into the treatment room with a coffee in each hand and a smile on her face. “Morning, handsome.” She sets one of the cups on the bench beside me and leans in for a kiss.
I turn my head so her lips land on my cheek instead of my mouth.
She pulls back, confusion flickering across her features. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
She studies my face for a moment, then seems to decide not to push it. “Okay. Well, let's get started. Ken wants us to focus on explosive movements today. We need to make sure your knee can handle sudden stress.”
I nod and stand, moving to the open space in the center of the room. She follows with her clipboard, all business now. Good. Business, I can handle. It's the intimacy I can't stomach.
“We'll start with some warm-up stretches,” she says. “Get the muscles loose before we push them.”
I lower myself to the mat, and she kneels beside me, guiding my leg through a series of movements. Her hands are warm on my skin. Those same hands touched him yesterday. Did she run her fingers through his hair? Did she let him hold her close?
“You're tense,” Natalie says. “Try to relax.”
“I'm relaxed.”
“You're not. Your whole body is rigid.” She presses down on my thigh, stretching the muscle. “Talk to me. What's going on?”
“Nothing.”
She sighs but doesn't argue. We continue through the stretches in silence. Every time she touches me, I have to fight the urge to pull away. Every time she smiles at me, I think about how she smiled at me before lying straight to my face.
After the warm-up, we move to the plyometric exercises. Box jumps first, starting with a low height and working up. I throw myself at the box with more force than necessary, landing hard, my knee protesting with each impact.
“Easy,” Natalie warns. “You're not competing against anyone. Control is more important than height.”
I ignore her and jump again, higher this time. The landing jars through my entire body, but I don't care. The physical pain is easier to handle than the storm raging in my chest.
“Ethan, slow down. You're going to hurt yourself.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're not fine. Something is clearly wrong, and you won't talk to me.”
I step off the box and turn to face her. “I said I'm fine. Can we just get through this?”
Her jaw tightens, but she nods. “Fine. Lateral jumps next. Side to side, controlled landing. Five sets of ten.”
I throw myself into the exercise with reckless intensity. Jump left, stick the landing, jump right, repeat. My knee screams at me, but I push through. The pain is a welcome distraction.
I hate liars.
Natalie stops counting and just stands there with her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “Why did you ignore my messages yesterday?”
“I was busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Just busy.”
“That's not an answer.”
I complete another set of jumps and land hard, my knee buckling slightly. I catch myself before I fall, but the damage is done. Natalie is at my side in an instant, her hands reaching for me.
“Don't.” I step back from her touch. “I'm fine.”
“You almost fell. Let me check your knee.”
“I said don't.”
The sharpness in my voice makes her freeze. For a long moment, we just stare at each other across the treatment room. The distance between us is only a few feet, but it might as well be miles.
“What is going on with you?” Her voice is quieter now, stripped of the professional veneer. “Did something happen? Is it your dad? Did you get bad news?”
“My dad is fine.”
“Then what?”
My pride won't let the words out. If she wanted me to know, she would have told me. The fact that she's standing here pretending nothing happened tells me everything I need to know.
“This was a mistake,” I say instead.
Her face goes pale. “What was a mistake?”
“Us. This. Whatever we've been doing.”
She flinches like I've struck her. Her lips part, but no sound comes out, and for a moment she just stands there, frozen, her eyes searching my face for any sign that I don't mean what I'm saying.
“Ethan, what are you talking about? Two days ago, you told me you loved me.”
Two days ago, I didn't know she was a liar. “I got caught up in the moment.”
“That's bullshit, and you know it.” She takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. “Something happened between yesterday morning and now. Something changed, and you won't tell me what.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Stop lying to me!”
The irony is almost laughable. She's accusing me of lying when she's the one who told me she was meeting Avery while sitting in a car with her ex-fiancé.
“I have nothing to offer you,” I say. “I'm a broken hockey player with a bum knee and a family that drains every penny I make. You should be with someone who can give you the life you deserve.”
“I don't want someone else. I want you.”
“You don't know what you want.”
“Don't you dare tell me what I want.” Her eyes are blazing now, anger replacing the confusion.
“I left my entire life behind to come to New York.
I walked away from my family, my friends, everything I knew.
And I did it because I was done letting other people make decisions for me.
So don't stand there and tell me I don't know what I want.”
“Then go back to what you had before. It suited you better anyway.”
Hurt draws itself on her face. “What does that mean?”
“It means you have options. Better options than me.”
“Is this about Brody? Did my mother call you? Did someone say something?”
My silence is answer enough.
Understanding dawns on her face. “Ethan, whatever you think is going on, you're wrong.”
“I saw you in the parking lot yesterday. I saw you arguing with some guy in a fancy suit, and then you got into his car and drove away with him.”
Her face goes white.
“You told me you were meeting Avery. You lied without missing a beat.” My voice is cold and hard. “So tell me again how I'm wrong about what's going on.”
“Ethan, please listen to me. Yes, that was Brody. He ambushed me in the parking lot, and I agreed to one conversation so he would finally leave me alone. I told him it was over, and then I came back. That's all it was.”
“And you couldn't tell me that? You couldn't say 'hey, my ex showed up and I need to deal with him'?”
“I was trying to protect you. You had just skated for the first time, and I didn't want to ruin your moment with my drama.”
“We've been together for what, a few weeks? And you're already lying to my face. What else have you lied to me about?”
“Nothing. I haven't lied about anything else,” she says in a small voice.
“How would I know that?” My voice rises. “If you can lie that easily, how many more lies are coming? How many times will you decide that the truth isn't convenient enough?”
“It wasn't like that.”
“It was exactly like that. You made a choice. You chose to deceive me instead of being honest. And now you're standing here asking me to trust your version of what happened with Brody. Why should I? Give me one good reason.”
“Because you know me,” she says in a pleading tone, but I’m not moved. “You know who I am. You know I would never betray you.”
“That's just it, Natalie. I don't know you. I thought I did, but clearly I was wrong. Because the woman I thought I knew would never lie about something like that.”
“Ethan, please.”
“Trust is everything to me. It's the foundation of everything, and you shattered it in one phone call.” I grab my towel from the bench. “I can't be with someone I don't trust.”
“So that's it? One mistake and you're done?”
“One deliberate, calculated lie.” I meet her eyes and hold them.
“If you'd told me the truth, we wouldn't be having this conversation.
I would have understood. I would have been angry that he showed up, but I would have understood why you needed to deal with him. But you didn't give me that chance.”
“I made a mistake. People make mistakes,” she says with tears running down her face.
I've heard those words before from countless people who have let me down. Everyone makes mistakes, and they all have excuses. They cry and beg and swear it will never happen again. But a lie is a choice. And people who choose to lie once will choose to lie again.
I walk out of the treatment room and don't look back.
The hallway is empty, and I head to the locker room. I sink onto the bench and put my head in my hands, my knee throbbing and my chest aching.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see her name on the screen.
Please don’t do this. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was wrong.
I stare at the message, then I lock the screen and shove the phone back in my pocket. I'm not interested in listening to more explanations.