Page 103 of Embrace

When he parks outside, I stare at him, unclipping my seat belt.

“Should we talk about this?” I ask, but I’d rather not ruin what we just had. Suddenly, I’m uncertain about what’s supposed to happen now. Because there’s so much here that we haven’t said. ThatIhaven’t said.

Kian kisses me tenderly. “Tomorrow. I want the last memory in my mind when I fall asleep tonight to be your moans.”

Thirty-five

Kian

There’s cloud nine,then there’s whatever I’m on.

I woke up earlier than ever, made it through my elective, and came home to get ready for practice. But even with the memory of Scarlett’s thighs against my ears replaying in my head and a smile I can’t seem to lose, I feel the unease rolling off Dylan the second I climb into his car.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him. My immediate impulse was to tell him about last night, but I want to wait until I talk to Scarlett.

He’s got one hand on the back of my seat as he reverses the car out of the driveway. Dylan glances at me cautiously.

“I’m quitting hockey.”

The car is silent—no music, nothing. The words sit on my chest until it’s hard to breathe.

I roll my eyes. “I’m so sick of your pranks, man. I swear—”

“It’s not. Our next game will be my last one.”

My pulse pounds in my ears, and the rush of blood through my veins is all I hear. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but Dylan’s pulling into a parking spot outside the arena. He turns off the ignition and turns to me.

“I’m sorry.”

I try to blink away the sting behind my eyes. He’s leaving me. “About what? If you don’t want to play, don’t play. You don’t need to apologize.” There’s a rough edge to my voice that I regret as soon as he touches my shoulder.

“We were supposed to play in New York together. That was our dream since we were kids. And I’m—I’m sorry for ruining that. I hate that I have to do this to you and the team.”

I swallow around the lump that forms in my throat. “Because of figure skating?”

He nods, and I see the quick spark that comes to life in his eyes. The one he used to have for hockey that I’ve seen fade with each year we’ve been on the ice. I’ve ignored it, thought it was just him trying to get over a hangover in practice, but I’ve known. I always have.

The way he is with Sierra, on and off the ice, it’s more than I could’ve hoped for Dylan. He’s light and happy, and not in the kind of way he thinks everyone needs him to be.

So I nod. Because I get it, I really do.

But sometimes I think about how in my dreams, everyone I’ve ever loved is alive and having dinner together. And I don’t get that scary feeling in my chest when someone says they’re leaving.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“No. And you’ll still have to call me Captain at our last game.”

He rolls his eyes, then he pulls me into a hug, saying so much more than we can with our words. Inside, he tells Coach, and the conversation just makes it all really sink in. I sandwich both of them in a hug.

“You’ve taken three breaks since we started,” Coach says when I bump against the board where he stands during practice.

“Just want to see him playing, immortalize it in my head, you know?”

He sighs. “You’re going to be fine, Kian.”

I glance at him. “You think?”

“You’re an excellent player. New York’s lucky to have you, and you’ll have a great time even without your best friend.”