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IRE
and illuminating the sleeping face of Hale Jones. For the past two years, I had built my enti
d by a life on the ice. He was the captain of the New York Rangers, a king in
to the faint, silvery scar above his eyebrow. He'd gotten it i
s snapp
giness of sleep. He stared at the ceiling with absolute clarit
o cover my sudden unease.
e morning sun. He reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, h
I pulled the sheet higher, cover
ce was raspy and brutally
ess the words. "...What? Are you kid
eed a relationship that's more beneficial to my pub
ace. My fingers gripped the edge
e in front of the cameras. Someone who fits the
e girl who bakes you cookies and warm
nce in his gaze. "I thought you understood wh
given up managing the main branch of my family's bakery to cater to hi
one last, desperate thre
her I deserved to know. Then, he delivered the
magazines, always perfect, always poised. She came from a wor
bit down hard on my bottom lip,
ts fluid and efficient, like he was in t
nd adjusted his cuffs. He treated this bre
ing. I'll have my assistant contact you
o years, who now looked like a stranger. His
r around myself, my voice
nodded, as if this was
ward the door without a
or him to hesitate. Waiting for him to turn around
did
click echoed through the room, sealing the end
staring at the
iked his coffee. The way he reached for my hand when he was exhausted
hose moments mean
augh escap
etter than anyone else. I had given up my own plans, rearranged my life around
idicu
own my cheek as I smile
as crying because I had spent two years believing I was buildin
king myself for letting him see a future
ightstand, my hand started shaking. The last piece o
nds, trying to keep myself sil
the sheets. On the pillow. In the
sunlight, grieving not only the man who left, but the ver
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