Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back, frustrated with myself. “It's not that I miss him.” I take a breath. “It’s more so that my whole life plan is gone. The wedding, the house we were going to buy, the future I thought I had. All of it, just gone. And I'm so angry. I'm angry that I wasted years on someone who could do that to me.”
“I know.” Avery reaches for my hand. “But it's for the best. He wasn't meant to be yours. And one day, you're going to find your person. Someone who actually deserves you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I'm not interested in finding my person or anyone for that matter. I just want to focus on my career. That's all I want right now.” I don’t want to talk about Brody or give him any more of my mental space.
I turn my gaze to Liam across the room, still surrounded by fans. The Cup gleams under the pendant lights as another group gathers around for photos.
“How do you do it?” I ask.
Avery follows my gaze. “Do what?”
“This. The attention. People watching your every move, taking pictures.” I shake my head. “The complete lack of privacy.”
She's quiet for a moment, watching Liam crouch down to show the Cup to a little boy in a Renegades jersey. The kid's face lights up like Christmas morning.
“I love him,” she says simply. “And this is part of his life. You can't have one without the other.”
Finally, Liam manages to extricate himself and joins us at the table. “Miss me?” Liam slides into the booth beside Avery, the Cup cradled against his chest. “Sorry about that.”
The atmosphere lightens after that, and I forget the wreckage that was my life before I left Charlotte.
We order too much food and drink a flute of champagne each. Liam tells stories about the playoff run while Avery watches him with stars in her eyes.
After lunch, Liam checks his phone. “The boys are about to land. We need to head to the airport.”
Avery turns to me. “You want to come with us?”
As much as I want to go, there’s a stack of files in my bag that I haven't looked at yet, and I know I'll sleep better tonight if I'm prepared for tomorrow.
“I think I'm going to head back,” I say. “I need to go through my notes and unpack a few more boxes. Rain check?”
“Sure.” Avery hugs me again. “Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”
“I will.”
Liam gives me a salute with the Stanley Cup. “Good luck tomorrow. Don't let Ethan scare you.”
“I won't,” I promise.
They want to drop me off, but I insist on walking. The afternoon sun is warm on my face, and I take the long way, stopping at a grocery store to pick up essentials.
The bags are heavy by the time I reach my building, and I have to juggle them awkwardly to reach for the door handle. I grab it and push, putting my shoulder into it because the door is heavier than I expected.
It swings open fast and hard, and I hear a thud followed by a string of profanity that would make a sailor blush.
“What the fuck?”
Oh no.
I scramble through the doorway and find myself face-to-face with a man on crutches. Correction. A very large, very angry man on crutches who is glaring at me like I just committed a felony.
“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly. “Are you okay? I didn't see you there. The door was heavy, and I just pushed, and I didn't think anyone would be right behind it and...”
I trail off as I get a good look at him.
He has dark, messy hair, like he can't be bothered to comb it. A square jaw, almost brutal in its sharpness, shadowed with stubble. Blue-grey eyes that are currently narrowed with irritation. He looks a lot bigger than the last time I saw him, which was in a stretcher.
Ethan Ward is tall. Even hunched over his crutches, he towers over me. I take in his broad shoulders and thick arms. No wonder his nickname is The Wall.
