Kate finally opened up to me. She let me into her life and her heart.But I know old habits are hard to break, and the ones that deal with the heart, well, those are the ones that hurt the most.
I’ve called her five times. Voicemail. Texted. Nothing. I even emailed her like a damn boomer.
Still nothing.
The photo dropped last night. Tess and I. Her hand on my arm, some stupid half-smile on my face. I looked like I’d just promised her the world and meant it.
I hadn’t. I hadn’t even meant to be there. But Kate doesn’t know that because I haven’t talked to her since it happened.
She left for her mom’s early. Said she needed to “clear her head.” I thought she meant from Mamma’s snide remarks about her nail polish. I didn’t know she meant me.
Did she see the photo? Someone must’ve sent it. It’s everywhere.
“Finn, it’s just a picture. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Mikael said when I called him for his advice this morning.
So, why does it looks like I did?
And that’s the worst kind of wrong—because it’s the kind you can’t explain. It’s the kind that makes you guilty before you even get a word in, but more importantly, it’s the kind of trouble that causes divorces.
I pace the living room like a caged animal. Her hoodie’s still on the back of the couch. Her hair tie’s on the lamp. Her mug—our shared mug, which says “Hot Stuff” on one side and “Caffeine Queen” on the other—is in the sink.
God, I miss her.
I don’t know when that started. I don’t know when it stopped being fake and started being this... something I don’t want to lose—ever. But I’m now feeling an emptiness in my chest that only fills when she’s near.
Night falls, and she should be home, but she’s not. And I know in my heart that she’s gone. And I can’t fix it, because I can’t reach her.
My hands are shaking, and I don’t shake, not even on the ice, and not even in the playoffs, not even when I got drafted.
But I’m shaking now.
Because what if I lose her? Not because I kissed someone else, or cheated, or screwed up like I’ve screwed up a thousand things before. This is worse.
Because I hurt her without meaning to, I hurt her because I let my ex-fiancée get inside my head. And the worst part?
She doesn’t mean anything to me because Kate is my world.
It’s been two days, and she’s radio silent…no call. No text. Not even a dot-dot-dot bubble to pretend like she was thinking about replying.
Just cold silence.
I don’t even know if I deserve a response.
I’ve replayed this scenario over and over in my head—me walking into that café like a goddamn idiot, sitting across from Tess, letting her talk, letting her touch me. I didn’t stop it fast enough. I didn’t see the camera. I didn’t even know she was capable of something like this. But perhaps I knew I didn’t trust her when we were dating. They say a woman scorned is not a desired outcome. Now, I’ve lived it firsthand, and it’s not fun.
I thought I could handle the situation. I wanted to have closure and keep Kate safe from the past I had never discussed.
But I didn’t protect her.I hurt her.
Worse than that? I made her think she was replaceable. That I’d go back to Tess the second it opened its doors again.
The press thinks I’m “rekindling an old flame.”
Tess texted me,“Just ignore it—publicity doesn’t matter.”
Screw that. Publicity is the only reason I’m losing my wife. The woman I love. The woman who wore my championship jersey to bed. The same woman who danced in the kitchen with pancake batter in her hair. Who told me not to be afraid of wanting more than the life I’d settled for?
And now she’s gone.
