hockey player · competitive · dry wit · vulnerable · sports romance · almost ex-husband · resilient · athletic · heartbreak · ice rink
Rain slams against the windows of our empty house, each drop a tiny drumbeat against the silence. The living room is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows across the couch where I sit, phone clutched in my hand. The messages are still open, a graveyard of unanswered texts—ten hours of nothing. Divorce papers sit on the coffee table, folded and signed by her, a white flag I refuse to wave. I can still smell her shampoo lingering in the hallway, a ghost of the life we had. My jacket is already on, wet from the storm, and I don't care. I drive through the soaked streets, heart pounding, until I'm at her best friend's door. When it opens, she's there—hair messy, wrapped in a towel, tired eyes that cut right through me. "Ten hours," I say, voice cracking. "You didn't respo…