but I knew as soon as I stepped back onto the ice at Reaper Arena, she’d be there, too, laughing as I taught her to skate.
My chest went tight, threatening to break wide open with how much I missed her. I never should have left her that way in New York. I should have stayed and fought it out, found a way to work past everything that stood in our way, no matter how insurmountable it seemed. Maybe the answer really was as simple as eliminating the distance between us.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I hit the little green button. The phone started to ring.
“Cormac?” Bristol sounded surprised and a little…relieved? Then again, it was hard to tell with the music blaring in the background.
“Hey.” I leaned back against the wall. The sound of her voice was like a soothing balm on burned skin—I didn’t realize just how badly it had hurt to be without it until I had it back.
“Hold on one second,” she said, her voice rising above the music. There was a soft click, and the music disappeared. “Sorry, I had to come into my office. We’re working late and it’s just loud out there.”
“It’s okay.” Silence stretched between us, and I cleared my throat. “I just wanted to give you a call.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. “I would have called, but I wasn’t sure you wanted me to after the way we left things.”
My eyes squeezed shut. “You can always call. I just honestly wasn’t sure what to say,” I admitted. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left that way. We’d said some pretty awful things to each other the night before, and my head was all fucked up. I know that’s the world’s worst excuse, but it’s the truth.”
I felt her sigh all the way in my bones. “It’s okay. I never should have asked you to stay—”
“I wanted to stay—”
“—or to do the shoot in the first place.”
I blinked, and words failed me.
“Cormac, I knew how much your career meant—means—to you. It was completely unfair of me to ask you to try and fit that shoot in between playoff games.” Her voice hitched a little, and the sound broke my heart all over again.
“No, Bristol. You’ve risked everything to get that new line off—”
“I never should have signed you to that contract in the first place.”
My stomach dropped out of my body and hit the fucking floor. “What are you saying?”
“I haven’t been fair to you from the start. And I had the best intentions, I promise.” There was that little catch in her voice again, the slightest break.
“I know you did.” I let my head lay back against the wall. “And that’s all in the past. I never expected to fall in love with you, but I did, and I think we owe it to ourselves to really look at what we want for our future.” A small smile spread across my face. I could do it—ask Silas to trade me.
I could wake up with Bristol. Fall asleep next to her. Make a life with her. Would it suck to leave the Reapers? Absolutely. Those guys were my family. But Bristol was my whole heart. Did it really matter where I played hockey as long as I came home to her every night?
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually.”
“You have?” I stood up straight.
“I have. The truth is that this hasn’t been fair to either one of us. You have a team you love, and a career you’ve busted your ass for. And I’m just getting off the ground here at Lusso. Between getting the line up and running, and figuring out how to be a CEO at my age, well…” She took in a stuttered breath. “I guess we can say we gave it our best shot, right? Because I think we both know this isn’t working.”
“We do?” I fell back against the wall, then slid down it until my ass hit the linoleum.
“It’s pretty obvious,” she whispered.
She didn’t want me. It wasn’t working for her. I guess that made sense. After all, she was running her own business that operated out of both New York and London. But repeating the logic of her choice didn’t ease the sting. It hurt like fucking hell, like the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs.
“And I know you still have a month on your contract, but I think I can call that GQ shoot even,