Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Hey, it’s me again,” I say, my voice hollow and sad, but already resigned. This is what Evie wants and there’s no point in staying here now. Living so close to her, but being outside her inner circle, a spectator to her life as she grows and evolves and eventually starts dating other guys, would be too painful. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re right. I need to get out of here before I waste another good year on a bad situation. I’ll be at the meeting on Monday, and I’ll be prepared to make a decision. So, guess I’ll see you then.”
I end the call and sink into the soft couch cushions, gazing out the window at the beautiful view and feeling…not much. The landscape isn’t as stunning without Evie here to share it with, and I suddenly find I can’t stay here another second.
Now that she’s gone, I can’t stand to be in this place where she was so close, so mine.
She was mine, even if it was only for a night.
I try to let that make me feel better, but it doesn’t, and by the time I’ve dressed and packed up my things, I’m lower than I can remember being in ages.
But that’s all the more reason to get out of here, get a fresh start, and put the stress and angst of the past year behind me. That’s the only good part about that note and everything Evie said in it—it’s going to make leaving easier than I ever imagined.
And that, no doubt, is exactly why she wrote it.
“Dumbass,” I say aloud, the word echoing through the empty room. “You’re a fucking dumbass.”
I am, but at least I realized the truth before it was too late.
Now, I just have to figure out what to do about it. Because there’s no way I’m giving up on this thing with Evie, not without one hell of a fight.
Chapter 32
Evie
I cry behind my sunglasses most of the train ride home, producing enough snot that the woman across the aisle buys me a bottle of water from the refreshment car.
“You’ll get dehydrated, sweetheart,” she says as she settles back into her seat. “Drink that and try to eat something. And remember, men are rarely worth crying over.”
I sniff and thank her for the water before adding in a tear-ravaged voice, “But he is. He was. He’s a really great person.” And then I start crying again, so I’m not sure what she says back, but I think it was something about finding a girlfriend to talk to when I get home.
Which, I absolutely do.
Back on our couch, I spill everything to Harlow and Jess—Cam is at work—and they pet my hair and feed me chocolate in between crying jags and ask if I’m sure I did the right thing.
“Yes,” I say, as sure of that as I am that I’m never going to feel this way about another man. There’s only one Ian for me. Every other guy will always be second best. “He’ll be miserable if he stays here. It will ruin his life.”
Harlow shoots me a gentler version of her usual “don’t bullshit me” look. “There’s more to life than work, babes. And from what you overheard, it sounds like Ian’s pretty crazy about you. Why do you automatically assume you’re less important to him than what he does for a living?”
“Well, to be fair, he is an NHL superstar,” Jess says, “with a chance to make even more money and become more famous if he gets away from his problem-child teammates.” She lifts her arms in surrender as Harlow shoots a more murderous gaze her way. “Hey, I would pick true love with Evie if it were me, but it’s not like he has a regular job. And it’s not like he can do his job forever. He probably only has four or five years left, tops. The number of players still in the NHL in their late thirties is higher than it used to be, but it’s still pretty small.”
“Exactly,” I say, motioning toward Jess. “And if he stays here another year, he might not get another chance to join a better team. They might decide he’s too old or too tainted by being an Ice Possum for too long or just not their favorite flavor anymore. These things are mercurry…mercurni…mer—”
“Mercurial,” Harlow cuts in, saving my tongue from itself. “You’re right, they are, but so is love. It’s hard to find and even harder to keep. So even if it shows up at the wrong time or with someone you never would have expected you’d fall for… I don’t know, I think it seems foolish to throw it away without thinking long and hard about it first.”
“I’m not throwing it away,” I insist, tears making the back of my nose sting again. “I’m doing what’s best for him. I’m putting him first.”