Page 22 of North

Flash. Bright light, so blinding it sears into my brain. A cacophony of laughter, jeers, the sound of my name shouted like a punch line. My stomach dropping into a bottomless pit as I clutch at my dress, at my shame, as I realize none of it was true.

Flash. My feet pounding against the gym floor as I run, the noise chasing me, the walls tilting and spinning as if the whole world is mocking me. A cruel prank aimed right at me. The ache is so sharp, it feels like I might shatter.

The images slam into me one after another, a merciless slideshow of humiliation and betrayal, leaving me cold and breathless. The New Year’s Eve fantasy crumbles into ash, leaving behind the harsh truth I’ve lived with ever since.

I can’t. Not with him. Not with anyone.

I force myself back to the present, to the snowman standing lopsided in North’s yard, his crooked smile almost mocking me. I feel the hurt physically and I have to swallow past the lump of bitterness in my throat.

I focus in on North’s handsome and earnest face, his expression open and hopeful. For a moment, I want to tell him everything. To let it spill out, messy and raw, so he can see the jagged edges of what’s inside me and the reason why this can’t ever be anything more than sex.

Plastering on a coy smile that feels paper thin, I step into him. “I’m thinking we should go inside and get warmed up.”

His hand circles the back of my neck, heat sizzling in his eyes. “We will. But what about New Year’s?”

My stomach sinks as I prepare to lie to him. “I actually have plans that night. Some friends are doing a thing.”

His brows lift slightly, and there’s the smallest pause before he says, “Sounds fun.”

“It will be,” I say confidently, envisioning myself sitting in pajamas in front of the TV, eating potato chips and drinking a beer to ring in the new year by myself.

North stares at me and I note the easy smile is still there, but there’s a flicker of something behind it—disappointment. He’s trying not to let it show, but I see it in the way his gaze drops to the snowman longer than necessary, his hands brushing along its lopsided edge.

I hate that I notice. I hate even more that it stirs something in me, this gnawing need to explain myself, to make him understand why I can’t let him or anyone else get closer. But how do you explain a secret so old and so buried that it feels like part of your DNA?

I fumble with my gloves, trying to distract myself. “You’ll have fun, though. Foster and Mazzy probably throw an amazing party, right?”

“It will be awesome,” he says, his voice steady, but it doesn’t carry the same warmth as before. He shakes his head lightly, brushing it off. “It’s no big deal. I just thought it might be nice. You know, ring in the new year with some good company.”

His words land softly but carry weight, and I know he’s not talking about just anyone. The idea of ringing in the new year with North sends a thrill through me, but it’s the same thrill that warns me I’m getting too close to the edge of something I can’t control.

I want to tell him. I want to say,I can’t do this because I don’t trust myself not to get hurt. Because once, a long time ago, someone made me believe I was worth something, and then they shattered it into a million pieces for everyone to see. But the words don’t come.

Instead, I force a smile and say, “Maybe next time.”

North tilts his head, studying me for a beat too long, like he’s trying to read between the lines. Then he nods, his expression neutral but kind. “Yeah, maybe nexttime.”

He tosses the snowball into the yard, dusts off his hands, and turns his attention back to the snowman. “You think it needs anything else?” he asks, his tone light again.

I let out a breath, grateful for the shift. “Have a corncob pipe, by any chance?”

He laughs, and the tension eases, but I can’t shake the ache of the moment. The unspoken truth hangs between us, and I know it will ultimately be our demise.

Just like it’s ruined every other relationship I’ve ever tried to have.

CHAPTER 9

North

Walking through Washington’smain terminal is a rare occurrence for us, something that only happens when the private airport terminal isn’t an option. It’s a different energy altogether, a mix of routine travel buzz and the unexpected sight of Titans jerseys scattered among the crowd. Even as the visiting team the fans show up, a small but loyal group clutching signs, snapping photos and cheering as we pass.

It’s not overwhelming, like the homecoming crowds at Pittsburgh, but there’s a quiet thrill in seeing those familiar colors and faces in a sea of strangers. Kids wave their jerseys in hopes of an autograph, and some fans shout words of encouragement or good-natured ribbing about tomorrow’s game.

I take my time, stopping to sign a few items and pose for selfies. It’s moments like these that remind me why I love this game, the connection it builds between us and people who’ve never laced up skates. Their excitement feels genuine, and it pulls me out of the insular world oflocker rooms and ice rinks, even if just for a few minutes.

This is our second stop on this short two-game road trip. Last night, we crushed the Atlanta Sting in what felt like a practice scrimmage more than a competitive match. The win has everyone in high spirits, and although today is all about travel and a light skate practice, I can’t shake the lingering high of victory.

Tomorrow, we face the Breakers, but my mind is already skipping ahead to the flight home. I’m counting down the hours until I’m back in Pittsburgh.

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