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“It wouldn’t feel the same as it does now. And what would everyone else think? That you’re sleeping with your employees now? I can’t damage your reputation like that, and I don’t want to lose you. Me quitting is the only option.”
He releases me and takes a step back. His eyes are guarded. I want to reach for him but chicken out, letting my arms hang limp.
His voice is strong, almost angry. “Fuck my reputation, Scarlett. It means nothing compared to you. And everyone knows you got your job because of how fucking amazing you are on the ice. Because of the glow you get every single time you clap for Willow and every medal you’ve earned and record you’ve beaten. You got your job because of how much you deserve it. You’re not losing me.”
“I got it because I was the only all-star athlete lounging around without a career and in need of a reason to leave the house.” The words feel wrong, like I don’t fully believe them anymore.
He runs a hand over his hair and over his jaw, tense with frustration. His eyes flick around his kitchen.
“You’ve spent months at WIT, and I’ve watched you fall in love with what you do there. When I met you, you wanted nothing to do with hockey. You thought you had lost everything with your injury—the same injury you’ve pushed yourself to heal from, in case you’ve forgotten. Dammit, Scarlett. This is your second chance. It might not be what you expected, and yeah, you won’t ever win another Olympic medal or score another season-winning goal, but does all that really matter? Does it matter when you’ve found something else that makes you feel the same rush? The same feeling of success? Of happiness?”
His words are perfectly aimed bullets of truth. Each one sinks deep.
A sob-like sound escapes me, drawing his gaze. Our eyes clash together, his suddenly soft as he says, “It’s time you stopped hating yourself for what happened and started to shift your perspective. Your glass isn’t half-empty, baby. Not anymore.”
28
SCARLETT
Adam’s words linger heavily in the air.
Everything he said is true. He threw a hard slap of reality right at me, and I’m reeling from the burn left behind.
It’s not a bad burn but one that won’t go away easily.
He was right when he said I hated myself for what happened. I did. And I still do blame myself for the how and for the why, but not for what happened after. I can’t—not anymore.
I know that if I had been paying more attention during that game, I wouldn’t have missed the player headed right for me. I wouldn’t have gotten thrown into the boards, and I wouldn’t have hurt myself. But it was me that chose to come home, and after everything that has happened in the past few months, I would make that choice over and over again.
If I hadn’t come home, I wouldn’t have known my mother was sick. I wouldn’t have been able to help her, and I would have missed out on the time I’ve had with her.
If I hadn’t come home, I wouldn’t have met Adam. Or Cooper, or Willow. I wouldn’t have found a love and a passion for helping athletes like Willow.
My shoulder was never going to get back to what it was. Regardless if I had stayed in Calgary and continued my therapy after my surgery with my previous therapist, I would still be where I am today. Only I wouldn’t have learned what was out there, waiting for me to find.
I can’t say that I’m not still sad. Not still disappointed. How could I not be? I will never get another chance to accomplish something very few have.
The difference now is that I think I can live with that. I can use it to motivate me to be better, to push myself when I need to. The memories will always be there. It’s just time to make new ones.
A weight lifts not only from my shoulders but from my soul. It took months to get to this point, and now that I’m here, I feel like I can breathe again.
My mom shouldn’t spend the few good years she has left remembering me as the broken girl who lost everything and gave up. She should remember me as the one who got up after falling and found a reason to run.
“You really want me to stay at WIT?” I ask softly, finally breaking the silence in the kitchen.
Adam doesn’t hesitate before answering me, eyes shining as sincere as I’ve ever seen. “Yes. Do you want to stay?”
“Yes.” Desperately.
“Then tell me what I can do to make you feel more comfortable with staying. If working with athletes makes you happy, I don’t want you to stop. Especially not because of me.” He winces and clears his throat. His eyes dim, like someone flipped a light switch inside of him. “If a relationship with me would take this chance from you, then say the word and I’ll walk away.”
“What?” I stare at him with my mouth gaped. A cold flush slithers down my body before it’s replaced with a surprising sense of frustration, aimed right at Adam. The words run out of me. “And what about your happiness? When are you going to start putting yourself first? You are worthy of getting everything you want too, Adam. There aren’t always sacrifices you need to make for other people.”
I catch him off guard, and it takes him a few seconds to recover. Once he does, he laughs. He actually laughs. I scowl hard, only making him laugh harder.
“I already have been putting myself first. Don’t you get it? The risk I took letting you meet my son, my friends, getting to know me—that was my way of putting myself first.”
I swallow. “Then why are you prepared to have done all of that for not—”
