I stare at the message, intrigued. What could the assistant coach possibly want to tell me? Something about Alder? About the team's reaction to last night's fight?
I'll be there
I reply, curiosity getting the better of me, telling her a place named Jitters is convenient to my apartment.
I sit on my bed, scrolling through the evening's news coverage of the gala fight. Most outlets seem to be treating it as typical sports drama, emphasizing Alder’s broken heart. I cringe at the sensationalism.
My thumb hovers over Alder's contact information. It would be so easy to call him, to hear his voice, to ask how Gordie's doing. To admit that I miss them both more than I expected.
But that would undo everything I'm trying to accomplish by moving out. The distance is necessary for both our careers and our sanity—a clean break, like ripping off a bandage.
Except it doesn't feel clean at all. It feels raw, painful, and unfinished.
CHAPTER 30
LENA
As the single-cupcoffee maker sputters out just enough for one travel mug, I catch myself glancing toward the door, expecting a cold nose to nudge my leg. The phantom sensation is so strong that I almost reach down to scratch behind ears that aren't there.
I check my phone one more time before leaving—no messages from Alder. The screen shows only the usual notifications—email, news alerts, and a text from my mother that I'll continue ignoring.
Relief and disappointment war in my chest. Relief that I don't have to navigate another carefully casual exchange. Disappointment that he's respecting my request for space.
The walk to Jitters takes me through Shadyside streets that feel nothing like the riverside path I walked with Alder and Gordie: different trees, different smells, different life. I pass a couple walking hand in hand, their shoulders brushing as they laugh at some private joke. The pang, I feel, is sharper than expected.
"This is temporary," I mutter to myself. "This feeling will pass. It's just withdrawal from physical intimacy. Nothing more."
If I repeat it enough times, I'll likely start believing it.
Sarah Collins is already at Jitters when I arrive, tucked into a corner table with her back to the wall. Unlike her usual poised and perfect self, today she fidgets with her coffee cup, her dark ponytail slightly askew. She has the unmistakable look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well.
"Thanks for coming," she says as I slide into the chair across from her. "I wasn't sure you would."
I order a latte from the server before turning my attention back to Sarah. "Your text was intriguing. What's up?”
Sarah glances around the coffee shop, ensuring no one is within earshot. "I need to talk to someone who might understand a... delicate situation. And after seeing you at the gala with A-Stag..." She trails off, observing my reaction.
"I was providing medical assessment," I say automatically. The lie feels stale on my tongue.
Sarah's mouth quirks into a humorless smile. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a manila envelope, sliding it across the table. "Medical assessment. Sure."
I open the envelope with trepidation. Inside are several glossy photos—images that weren't published in the papers. My breath catches. In one, my palm rests gently against Alder's jaw, but it's our eyes that tell the real story. We're looking at each other with undisguised longing, a tenderness that can't be mistaken for professional concern.
"Where did you get these?" I ask, my voice barely audible.
"A friend at the Press-Gazette owed me a favor. I convinced him these weren't newsworthy." Sarah leans forward. "He disagreed but respected my judgment."
I stare at the photos, unable to look away from the naked emotion on both our faces. We appear to be two people in love, not a doctor and patient.
"Thank you," I finally manage, sliding the photos back into the envelope. "That was... kind of you."
"Don't thank me yet." Sarah takes a deep breath.
I look up sharply. The moment is too pointed and too relevant to be coincidental.
"If you're implying there's something between Alder and me..." I begin cautiously.
"I'm saying I need to know I'm not the only one drowning here." The vulnerability in her voice surprises me. Sarah Collins has always seemed unflappable and in complete control.
