Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I want to tell him—to tell all of them—that it wasn’t just some act. That I’m head over heels for her. That being with her, even for pretend, was the best thing that ever happened to me. But the words stick in my throat, caught behind the weight of knowing that Noelle deserves better than this. Better than me. Better than a life full of paparazzi and speculation and the chaos that comes with being in my world.
So, I keep my mouth shut.
“Yeah, it was something,” I mutter, taking a long sip from my drink to drown out the rest of the words I can’t say.
Bryce laughs and slaps me on the back. “Well, at least it’s over, right? Now you can get back to focusing on hockey. No drama, no distractions.”
I nod, but my gut twists. No drama? No distractions? All I can think about is Noelle. She’s the distraction I don’t want to give up. She’s the one thing I don’t want to put behind me. But she’s also the one person I don’t want to hurt.
I glance across the room, catching a glimpse of her as she chats with her mom, her face glowing in the soft Christmas lights. My chest tightens. I want to go to her, to pull her aside and tell her everything. To tell her that I’ll figure out a way to make it work, that I’ll protect her from all of it. But I can’t. Not when I know what kind of life that would mean for her.
So, I stand there, watching her from a distance, the unease growing inside me like a storm I can’t stop.
It’s late, and the house feels eerily quiet now that all my teammates have left. The laughter, the noise from the earlier gathering—all of it has faded, leaving only this hollow silence in its wake. I sit in the living room, nursing a drink I don’t really want, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Noelle is nowhere to be seen. She slipped off to bed hours ago, still avoiding me, still not willing to face what’s really going on between us.
Coach comes in, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor as he enters the room. He stands near the fire, rubbing his hands together before looking over at me. His expression is thoughtful, and I can already tell he’s about to say something I’m not ready to hear.
“Well, it’s done,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I fed the paparazzi the story of your breakup. They’re all over it. You should see the headlines already.” He shakes his head with a small chuckle. “I guess you’re relieved it’s finally over, huh?”
I freeze, my throat tightening. Relieved? That’s the last thing I feel. But I manage to nod, my face carefully blank as I meet his gaze. “Yeah, sure.”
Coach moves to sit across from me, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. He watches me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to read something in my expression. “You know,” he says, his voice softer now, more personal, “I kind of liked the idea of you and Noelle together.”
I swallow hard, not sure what to say. His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“I mean, I know it wasn’t real,” he continues, “but the thought of her with a guy like you… someone I trust, someone I know would take care of her... I don’t know, it seemed right.” He pauses, his eyes drifting to the fire. “But I also know it could never last. You two… you live in different worlds. And she deserves better than the chaos that follows a guy like you.”
The words hit harder than I expected, and I nod, trying to keep the emotion from showing on my face. “Yeah, I know,” I say quietly. “You’re right.”
But the truth is, every word feels like a dagger. Because it’s not just that it couldn’t last—it’s that it could’ve been something. Something real. Something more than just a fake relationship for the cameras. And the fact that I can’t have it, can’t have her, is killing me.
Coach claps me on the shoulder, giving me a sad smile. “I’m proud of you, York. You handled this whole situation like a pro. But now it’s time to move on, focus on hockey.”
I nod again, forcing a smile, even though I feel like I’m dying inside. “Yeah. Time to move on.”
The conversation ends there, but the weight of it lingers as Coach gets up and heads to bed. I sit there for a while longer, staring into the fire, thinking about Noelle, about what we could have had if things were different.
The next morning, I’m in an Uber, heading back to my place in Denver. The sun is barely up and I stare out the window, but all I can think about is her. Noelle. I can’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I try. Her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at me when she thought no one was watching.