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“Holly, come on,” he muttered, smacking the door with his open palm. “You don’t mean this. I know you don’t. Open the door.”
His pleas were met with deafening silence, and dread snaked through his body, chilling him to the bone.
All he’d had to do tonight was talk to her. To tell her why he’d ended things back then, and maybe—justmaybe—he wouldn’t be standing on the other side of this goddamn door right now.
Seven years ago, his reasons for ending it had made perfect sense. They’d been valid, and he’d felt justified. He’d made the decision to end things quickly, like one rips off a bandage, to save her from the prolonged pain and heartache that would be waiting for her in the future just because she chose to be with him.
But seeing her so upset tonight, her arms wrapped around herself, tears streaking down her pretty face, he realized he hadn’t saved her from anything.
He’d only succeeded in hurting her more.
Eli turned around, dragging his hands through his hair as he slid down the length of the door and onto the concrete walkway.
God, he was such a fucking idiot.
When she’d walked back into his life last year, he’d been too stupid to realize he’d been given a second chance to make things right. To give her the apology she’d so richly deserved.
But he hadn’t apologized.
Instead, he’d glossed right over the elephant in the room and treated her like any other woman that he wanted to get into his bed.
The problem was, shewasn’tlike any other woman. She’d been the best friend he’d ever had, and the only person who had never been afraid to tell him the truth, even when he didn’t want to hear it.
Fuck, he loved that about her. That and her smart, sassy mouth.
His heart squeezed with regret as he thought of her standing in front of him a few minutes ago, stripping herself bare emotionally.
He got to his feet, then walked slowly toward his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he stared out of the windshield and into the darkness.
He’d missed her so much. He’d fucking missed everything about her, and he had no one to blame but himself for what had just happened. He’d been a selfish, arrogant asshole to her for so fucking long. Shame washed over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Now, all that was left of their relationship was the wreckage of his wasted second chance.
Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, he let out a stuttering breath and glanced back over at the door to her apartment.
He’d thrown that chance—and her—away like they’d meant absolutely nothing.
And now he might never get another one, unless he could figure out a way to get her to open that fucking door.
* * *
Eli lifted his head from the marble table and opened one bleary eye, then looked over toward the bar.
His teammates, goaltender West Keller and forward Brandon Lear, stood at the bar in Callahan’s, talking to the bartender, Jake. Guess there was no sense in pretending things were fine anymore.
Cursing under his breath, he took a swallow of beer from his pint glass as his teammates approached.
“Jake says you’ve been here for the past five hours,” Brandon said, taking a seat across from him at the table. West pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, then cocked an eyebrow.
“Jesus, D. You look like shit,” West told him. “What did you do? Leave practice and come straight to the bar?”
“Yeah.” Eli took another pull on his beer. “I did.”
West and Brandon exchanged glances.
“Are you going to tell us why?” West asked.
Was he? He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone about this right now.
