Snow falls softly around me while the cold air burns my lungs, but all I can hear is the rest of the conversation echoing in my head.
The Vipers want an answer soon. Huge market. Fresh start. Career reset.
Of course, this… this thing between us was temporary. What did I honestly think would happen? That a nationally famous hockey player would suddenly decide small-town bakery life mattered more than career opportunities? That men like Colby Reid would want to stay?
I grip the dumpster lid hard enough that my fingers ache, because the truly humiliating part isn’t that he’s leaving. It’s that some stupid, hopeful part of me had started imagining that maybe he wouldn’t.
His car door opens behind me and I instantly freeze.
Colby’s footsteps crunch softly through fresh snow. “Sadie?”
His voice drops quieter when he says my name, and suddenly I can’t survive hearing it.
***
I straighten quickly without turning around. “Need something?”
Silence.
Too much silence.
Then: “You okay?”
There it is again. That awful, wonderful gentleness.
I force myself to finally look at him. Snow catches in his dark hair. Cold reddens his cheeks slightly.
His expression is careful and concerned and painfully sincere. Temporary.
Everything about him is temporary.
“I’m fine,” I say.
His eyes narrow almost immediately. Because apparently, he already knows when I’m lying.
Wonderful.
“Sadie—”
“You should probably take your call.”
The words come out sharper than I intend.
Confusion flickers across his face instantly. Then understanding hits. Not full understanding. Just enough to know that something has changed.
“You overheard me.”
Not a question.
I cross my arms tightly against the cold. “You don’t owe me explanations.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “I wasn’t hiding it.”
“I know.”
That’s somehow worse. Because if he wasn’t hiding it, then this was always inevitable.
New York.
