Page 70 of Falling Back to You

“You tell me.” Juliet’s blue eyes were brighter than Cal’s, but tonight, they were flinty.

Here we go. “I’m sorry, Jules. Really. That’s all I’ve said lately, but I mean it.”

“Why’d you leave?”

I blew out a breath. “Lots of reasons.” The bustle of the arena offered a shield of privacy. While this wasn’t where I’d have wanted to have this conversation in all the ways I’d planned it out in my head, it was still private. “They were valid, but I should have handled them differently.”

“Instead of breaking my brother’s heart?”

“It broke mine, too,” I snapped back. Did she think I was heartless? I’d done nothing but regret my choices.

“Answer me this: Did you ever think about coming back?”

“Yes,” I whispered gutturally. A fresh wave of grief rolled over me at the memory. So many times. “I had a ticket and everything.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Juliet demanded. “We needed you, Elle. You were family.” Her eyes burned with a glassy sheen. The only time I’d ever seen Juliet cry was at Sandra Delavan’s funeral.

Emotion clogged my throat. “I was too ashamed at first, but when I finally worked up the courage, I saw Cal’s wedding announcement online.”

Juliet’s expression broke. “What?”

“I was too late.” I sniffed. “So I tried to move on. Because I wouldn’t be the woman wishing for another woman’s husband.”

“And you had no idea Izzy passed?”

I shook my head. “I came back for . . . personal reasons. And to make amends.” Slowly, I glanced up to meet her gaze. “Will you forgive me?”

Her jaw twitched. “I do,” she said slowly. “But I don’t fully trust you right now.”

“That’s fair.” Trust had to be earned, and I was willing to do the work to earn it. Between Greyson and Juliet, I had my work cut out for me. “But will you give me the chance to prove myself?”

“That I can do.” She sniffed hard, muttering, “Stupid hormones.”

“Thank you,” I said softly, then, sensing her need for a topic change, motioned to the arena. “So you and Myles, huh?”

Her cheeks flushed a dull pink. “Go ahead. Say I told you so. Everyone else did.”

I chuckled. “He was the only clueless one. You’re good for him.”

“He’s good for me,” she said with a soft smile. “The best man I know.”

Bells and Khia returned with their snacks, and the game resumed. The air was electric with excitement and energy. The guys were on fire, Cal especially. If I didn’t know better, he almost seemed angry. I’d seen him play mad in the past. Exercise was his way of blowing off steam when he couldn’t put his thoughts into words. But why would he be angry tonight?

A sliver of guilt worried my stomach. Is it my fault?

It’d been a long time since I’d watched a hockey game in person—watching virtually wasn’t the same—but the enjoyment flooded over me.

Until Cal and another player collided against the boards. Sticks slashed and fists flew. The Colorado player—DeSantos—hit dirty, and Cal’s knees buckled. He went down hard, his helmet hitting the ice. DeSantos went in for another swing.

What was this jerk’s problem? I clenched my fists, anger flooding my veins.

“Daddy!” Khia shrieked. “Get up!”

But he didn’t.

My heart froze as chaos broke out. The Chargers dropped their gloves in defense of their captain, and the refs worked to break up the fight. Myles left the net to snag one of his players by the back of the jersey, hauling him off, but not before the goalie landed a punch of his own.

A stretcher was brought out, and Cal roused slightly before they carried him off the ice.