“It’s nothing,” I mutter, turning my face away from her.
She grabs my chin and tilts it toward her so that it catches the glow from the streetlight. Her breath catches as her eyes graze over the bruise. “That’s not nothing, Lucian. You’re hurt.”
The compassion in her eyes feels wrong, knowing I’m holding back the truth.
“Yeah, I know I’m hurt,” I say, taking a step away from her. “And I can take care of it myself.”
Her brows knit together. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me what happened.”
“Neesha, please don’t push this right now,” I say, dragging a hand through my damp hair. “It’s going to change things for us.”
“What do you mean? You helped me by fixing my espresso machine and baking cupcakes. Let me help you now.”
“Not tonight,” I grind out, even though I know I should tell her. But the throbbing pain in my body is too much. She won’t want to help me when she finds out what I’ve been holding back from her. I’ve built up her trust just enough that she considers me a friend, but not enough for the bomb I’m about to drop.
I finally take a breath, knowing there’s no going back from this. Everything will change after I say these words—our practice dates, our easy conversations, the way she looks at me like I’m her friend—it will all disappear the moment she realizes I’m exactly what she swore to avoid.
“It happened…during a hockey game,” I admit.
She blinks, then shakes her head, not understanding. Her hand reaches for my face. “Did you get into a fight in the stands?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “On the ice.” I wait a beat,feeling the sting already. “I’m a defenseman for the Ice Breakers.”
For a moment, she just stares at me. I watch as the words register and understanding dawns in her eyes. Her hand drops from my face like I’ve burned her, and she takes a step back.
“You’re a hockey player,” she says flatly, her voice completely devoid of emotion.
And that’s when I know I’ve already lost her.
CHAPTER 13
NEESHA
Ahockey player.The words echo in my head like a cruel joke. After everything I’ve been through, after all my walls and careful boundaries, I’ve somehow managed to fall for another athlete.
Earlier tonight, I was wide awake, sitting at my window with a cup of chai tea, trying to work on my business plan for the cupcake shop when I should’ve been going to bed. The drizzly weather matched my mood—unsettled, restless, and missing the man next door who seems to disappear for a few days at a time.
When Henry started whining at the door, I grabbed his leash, slipping into my cinnamon-colored cardigan and rain boots. The autumn air smelled like wet leaves and damp wood tonight, bringing back memories of campfires and rainy weekends with Mom. Henry trotted down the steps, completely unbothered by the weather as I settled on Mrs. Nelson’s front porch swing.
That’s when I saw his truck coming home, the blinding headlights turning into the driveway next door. It’s not until I got closer that I noticed the swollen lip. He looked like he’d been in a fight, with bruises blooming on his cheek and around his eye. And when he confessed the truth, everything suddenly clicked into place—his absences in the evenings and the muscles thataren’t from fixing up houses, but the disciplined training of an athlete.
“You’re a hockey player,” I say aloud, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Ironically, every attempt to avoid the very thing I’d sworn off had led me right back to it.
“Yes,” he says, quietly, the pain in his voice unmistakable.
“And you didn’t think that was something I should know? Especially after I told you how I felt about hockey players?”
“I wanted to tell you—” he starts.
I cut him off with a sharp laugh. “When, exactly? After our ‘practice date’? Or were you waiting until I was completely—” I stop myself from saying it.
“Neesha, please—” He takes a step toward me, reaching for me, but I shrink away.
“No.” I step back, wrapping my arms around myself. “I can’t…I’m sorry, Lucian, I need to go.”
I turn away, Henry reluctantly following as I head back to the house. I climb up the back stairway and close the door, leaning against it as emotions wash over me, a strange mixture of betrayal, disappointment, and something else that makes me even more uncomfortable:concern.
Despite the anger boiling inside me, I can’t get the image of his battered face out of my mind.
