—
It was casual, I’m the one who caught feelings and started expecting stupid things like him waiting to take me home — and would be clouded with an unimaginable wave of pain when I had to get articles of his countless flings and two–week- relationships taken down.
But maybe I’m a masochist and the pain is my aphrodisiac, because when he’s done sleeping around and breaking my heart, I wait, knowing he’ll come back to me when he’s fed up.
He always comes back.
And I’d let him in. Every time.
God, you’re so pathetic, Tessa.
I pull off my reading glasses and rub at my sore eyes, trying to blink the blur away. My head still hurts, and the Tylenol I took earlier might as well have been candy.
After sitting there for a few more minutes, just kind of… marinating in my feelings, I finally grab my things and start cleaning up my desk. Coffee cups, printouts, sticky notes I’ll never read again – it all goes in the trash. I thought I’d feel better once everything was tidy. Accomplished, maybe. Like I could go home and feel human again.
Nope.
Instead, the silence hits harder. Louder.
0.00%
16.55
Chapter 71
288 Vour hers
I don’t even know what I expected. Maybe someone to say, “Great job, Tessa! You get to go home to your apartment at 1AM, where no one is waiting for you. No Emilia to berate you for coming home late or make soup at past midnight just so you don’t have to eat your detrimental cooking. Just you, your cold leftovers, and the memory of a hockey player who ditched you for some leggy blonde he met at the same gala you got dragged to like a prop.”
I scowl and mutter under my breath, “Shut the fuck up.”
Because I know the voice in my head isn’t wrong.
–
Lyle – ugh. Even thinking his name makes my stomach twist. He’s the worst kind of beautiful disaster: the type that kisses you like you’re everything and forgets your name the next day. And I let him. I always let him. Like clockwork. He disappears, and I stay put. Waiting.
It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But knowing doesn’t make the ache in my chest go away. Or the heat behind my eyes. Or the ridiculous fantasy where someone, anyone, loves me enough to stay.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, take one last look at the empty office, and sigh.
Then I walk out the door – quiet, tired, and still pretending I don‘
1 care.
I’ve always been good at pretending I have it together.
I had to be. When your best friend is a walking, beautiful
25.94%
16.550
Chapter 79
283 Neuchers
disaster – who’s constantly stumbling into messes and getting her heart cracked open – you don’t get to fall apart too. You learn to stay steady. You learn to carry both of you.
That’s why I never really told Em the full story about Lyle.
She had enough going on. Enough pain. Enough secrets clawing at her from the inside. The last thing she needed was mine. So I buried it. Smiled through it. Shrugged and said things like, “There’s this hockey player I keep sleeping with and I think I like him.”
And she’d give me one of her classic looks – eyebrows raised, lips pursed, silently judging me in the most loving way possible. Then she’d move on.
She never pried. Never asked for details. Which was both a blessing and a curse.
Because truth is? I wanted someone to ask. I wanted someone to see the way my chest ached when he left. I wanted someone to notice how quiet I got when Lyle didn’t text back. How I stopped wearing the perfume he liked. How I never really stopped waiting.
But instead, I just kept it light. Kept it vague. Kept it safe.
–
Because if I told her the truth — how I kept letting him back in, how I was always the one waiting – I know what she’d say.
She’d tell me I deserved more.
And I think a part of me still doesn’t believe that.
So when I walk into the rink – usually locked up tight by this
56.39%
1655
Chapter 71
1788 Vouchers
time of night – my heart does this stupid little flip.
Lyle’s text is still open on my phone, bold and heartless: “Don’t wait up. Going home with Tina.”
Cool. Awesome. Fantastic.
But then I see the rink door cracked open. The lights on. Ice freshly cleaned.
And for one second – just one – I let myself hope.
Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he came here instead. Maybe he remembered I exist.
But nope. Of course not.
Because standing there, right in the middle of the rink like he owns the damn place, is Aaron freaking Cobalt.
87.44%
