Chapter 29
“Gemma, please.” My palms flatten against the counter of the front desk, my chest heaving. “I know it’s past visiting hours, but I need to see her.”
She doesn’t even bother to glance up from her computer because she’s too bored with the fact that this is a weekly conversation for us. “Rules are rules, Zach. You know this.”
“Yeah,” I grit out, running a hand through my hair, tugging until my scalp burns. “But this isn’t me trying to sneak into her room for a hookup. It’s important.” My voice is breaking, much like my life if I can’t figure this out. “I really need to see Honey.”
She finally drags her gaze away from the computer and gasps.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
I know I look like hell. That’s what I get for showing up at Chris’s door uninvited while some girl is spreading lies about me.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” My jaw still aches from the hit. There will definitely be a bruise there that I’ll need to explain to Coach, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
“Uh.”
“Please, Gemma. Just let me up.”
“I’m sorry, Zach.” Gemma’s voice is softer now. “She’s not here.”
My stomach drops. “She’s not?”
Gemma takes a deep breath before tapping a few keys on her keyboard and scanning the screen. “Her key card hasn’t been used since five when she left. Her room is empty.”
“Fuck.”
It’s nearly midnight.
Where the fuck is she?
Panic courses through my veins because this isn’t like Honey. She wouldn’t just leave the hockey house and not go home.
I stumble back from the counter, my phone already in my hand. I’ve called her six times in the last hour, and it’s always gone straight to voicemail. She hasn’t read my texts, and she turned off her fucking location share.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“If you see her—” I start, but Gemma cuts me off.
“I’ll tell her you came by,” she says with what I think is sympathy. I don’t hang around long enough to check.
I shove through the doors and pull out my phone, ready to call Chris and rip into him for lying to me. I thought he understood.
After he got that sucker punch out of his system, he let me explain, and once I got the story out, it was like a switch flipped behind his eyes.
He didn’t say he believed me. He didn’t need to.
He just looked at me like maybe he realized I wouldn’t be stupid enough to waste my time with Honey if she wasn’t it. If she wasn’t everything.
That’s what makes this worse. Because I’m not lying. I’d burn the world before I’d betray her, and now I can’t fucking find her.
“Honey,” I shout into the night air.
That’s when I hear it.
Sobs. Sharp, jagged, and unmistakable.
Her sobs.
I hate that I know how they sound.
I freeze, my pulse spiking so hard I swear I hear it in my ears. She’s here.
“Honey?” I call her name, following the sound.
When I finally see her, relief washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced with anger and frustration. She’s crumpled on the cement steps of the lecture hall across from her dorm. Her face is buried in her hands, and her shoulders are visibly shaking.
I did this. I fucking did this to her because I trusted that fucking snake.
“Honey,” I whisper under my breath as I take slow, tentative steps toward her, not wanting to startle her, or worse, make her run.
She doesn’t look up.
My heart can’t take it.
“Honey!” I yell this time, making sure she hears me over the sobs as I run over to her.
When her head snaps up, every ounce of resolve I have breaks.
“Honeycomb?” I say weakly as I take in my beautiful girlfriend.
My beautiful Honeycomb, who’s always been so good at keeping it together even when she feels like breaking has finally cracked on her own in the dark.
I hate it.
I hate that she looks like this. I hate that I can’t change what happened tonight. Most of all, I hate that I wasn’t there to catch her before she fell apart.
When I’m beside her, I drop to my knees without thinking and hold her frozen hands. She doesn’t pull away, but she won’t meet my eyes, either.
“Jenni’s lying,” I tell her, my voice hoarse with frustration.
She lets out a small whimper, but doesn’t look at me, and I can’t blame her. I get it. She’s worried that I’m going to break her heart all over again. That I’m just another Jamie Nicks.
I’m not.
I’m never going to be that.
She’s the love of my fucking life.
“What happened?” she whispers, barely audible.
I squeeze her hands because I think it’s the only touch I’m allowed. Her fingers are numb. Her knuckles are white, but I’m not letting her go.
“Nothing—” I start.
“But you were with her?” she asks, finally looking up, searching for an answer. The way she looks makes me want to scream. Why does it feel like she wants this to be true? Like some part of her is angling for proof.
“I was,” I admit, “but it’s not in the way you think. She asked me to meet her to finalize plans for your birthday tomorrow.”
“My birthday?” Her voice is soft, light, and almost confused. Not surprised she doesn’t remember it. She’s never looked forward to them because it always used to mean some ridiculous obligation cooked up by her parents.
“Yes. Your birthday. I was only there for you. We were planning on doing something after my game. I’d already invited the guys and hired a babysitter for Ella.” The words spill out of me so quickly, they barely sound coherent.
Her brow scrunches. “But it was just the two of you? Discussing this at a bar off campus?”
“Yes.” I run a hand through my hair, knowing how bad this sounds, but not knowing if there’s anything I can do about it. “She asked to meet there because she didn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
That makes Honey bristle.
“She told me Chris was supplying the decorations…” I trail off, because the pieces start to connect. Did she tell Chris anything? I doubt it. She fucking planned for this to look bad. She played me.
I can taste the bile creeping up my throat.
“You know I’d never cheat on you, Honey,” I say, forcing her to look me in the eyes so she can see the truth. “I love you too much. It’s only ever been you.”
She lets out a shaky breath but doesn’t say a word.
“Wait.” An idea pops into my head. “Let me prove it.”
I fumble to get my phone out of my pocket and thumb through my messages until I get to hers. This will prove everything.
“What the—”
Gone.
She's deleted them… every single message on my phone has been removed by the owner, leaving my messages with no context or proof.
Honey's hand rests on top of the phone. Her eyes draw from the screen to fully focus on me now, and I can practically feel how tired she is. “I believe you, Zach,” she whispers. “I know you wouldn't cheat on me.”
I should feel relief, but the way she says it, soft and broken, tells me that even if she does, it doesn’t fix the bruises from today. It doesn’t erase what Jenni did.
“Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” I ask, and it’s honest enough to scare me, because it opens up the small truth between us that we’ve been ignoring. We’ve been drifting apart since we got here, and this might just be the final straw that makes us see that.
The question is too much. She doesn’t answer. Instead, she presses her lips together, trying to stop the fresh tears from falling.
I pull her into my arms, holding her close, desperately wanting to stop the pain. Her sobs soak my shirt, and I curse myself for ever letting Jenni get close enough to make this happen.
“I’m sorry,” I say, over and over. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
It’s not enough. I can’t fix her.
My hand slides into my pocket without thinking, my fingers curling around the little box I’ve been carrying for months.
This isn’t the right time. Don’t do it.
The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop, but panic overrides everything else because I’m watching her slip away and I don’t know what else to do.
I need her to know how serious I am about her. It’s her. It’s always only ever been her.
I flip the box open, revealing the hexagon-shaped yellow diamond on a gold band that looks like connected honeycombs.
“Zach—”
“Marry me, Hunniford Sanderson.” My voice breaks. “I know tonight’s been hell. I know you’re hurting, but Honey, I’m tired of trying to pretend you’re not already mine. You’re my home.”
My voice tightens. “I want to be your home too. When everything else is broken, I want to be the person you run to. I will show up. I will fight for you. I will fight with you. I want to help you when you feel lost and celebrate every single one of your wins.”
“Zach,” she sighs out.
My hands are shaking now, but I keep the box steady because I need to be the strong one. “Please,” I say. “Forget Jenni. Forget all of the noise. It’s just you and me, Honey. Always. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ll ever want.”
She stares at the ring for the longest time.
“I can’t—” Her voice breaks. “Zach, no. Not now. I love you. I do, but this… it’s too much. I need more time.”
No.
She said no. The word hurts more than Chris’s punch ever could because for the first time since I started asking, she's given me a definitive answer.
She said no.
I can barely breathe. I’d take a thousand hits on the field before I’d take this one from her.
“Time?” I repeat, stupidly, like if I say it back it’ll sound less like a death sentence. “Honey, I don’t understand. You believe me, don’t you?”
“I do.” She’s crying so hard she can barely get the words out. “But that’s not—it’s not about that.”
“Then what—”
“I don't know!” The words explode out of her. “I don't know, Zach. I don't know anything right now. I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want. I don't know—” Her breath hitches. “I can't marry you when I don't even know who I am without you.”
The words slam into me, and suddenly I see it. Really see it.
She's not pulling away because she doesn't trust me.
She's pulling away because she doesn't trust herself, and everything I'm doing right now—the proposal, the promises, the desperate attempt to make her see that we're solid—it's all just proving her point.
That she doesn't exist outside of me. That she's drowning in my shadow.
I'm making it worse.
“Honey—” I start, but she's already standing, backing away from me.
“I'm sorry.” She's sobbing now, stumbling toward her dorm. “I'm so sorry, Zach. I just—I need time. Please.”
My entire body screams to follow, to fix this, to make her understand. But I don't move. Because I finally get it.
The harder I push, the faster she runs.
I stay rooted to the steps, the ring box still open in my hand, watching the door close between us. When the lock clicks, the sound echoes in my chest.
I drop onto the cold cement, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands.
She believes me. She loves me, but somewhere along the way, she lost herself, and every time I tried to be her home, I became another place to hide from.
For the first time since I met her, I don’t chase. I just sit there in the dark, holding a ring she wasn’t ready for, praying that in the morning she’ll find her way back to me.