Page 32 of The Hockey Contract

"And you never got closure?"

"What's to close? He chose his career over basic human decency." Her tone was light, but I could hear the old hurt beneath it. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. It was years ago."

"But it still bothers you."

"It bothers me that he's acting like it never happened." She straightened, clearly done with the conversation. "Enough about my ancient drama. Let's talk about your modern one. Are you ready to be the hockey wife today?"

The morning passed quickly with a steady stream of customers, many mentioning they'd seen the wedding photos online. By noon, we'd sold out of almost everything—an unprecedented weekday occurrence.

At precisely one-thirty, the bakery door opened and Leo walked in, carrying a Seattle Kraken jersey. He nodded to me, then deliberately avoided looking at Chloe, who was helping a customer.

"Ready for your debut, Mrs. Harrison?" he asked with a grin.

"As ready as I'll ever be to publicly humiliate myself on ice," I replied, hanging up my apron.

Leo handed me the jersey. "Wear this. The wives and girlfriends all wear their player's jerseys at family events."

I held up the blue jersey with "JAX" and his number “27” emblazoned across the back. It felt strangely intimate, wearing his name.

"I should change," I said, retreating to the small bathroom in the back.

When I emerged wearing jeans and the oversized jersey, Chloe was locked in what appeared to be a tense conversation with Leo near the counter. They stood too close, speaking in hushed but heated tones. I cleared my throat, and they jumped apart like guilty teenagers.

"We should go," Leo said, checking his watch. "Traffic's heavy."

"See you tomorrow," I called to Chloe, who gave me a thumbs-up that looked more like a grimace.

In the car, I waited all of thirty seconds before asking, "What was that about?"

Leo kept his eyes fixed on the road. "What was what about?"

"You and Chloe, looking ready to either kill each other or tear each other's clothes off."

He choked slightly. "That's not—we were just—"

"Leo," I interrupted. "I know you dated in college. I know you ghosted her for your career. What I don't know is why you're both still so affected by it years later."

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "She told you that?"

"She's my best friend. Of course she told me."

He was quiet for a long moment. "It wasn't like that. I didn't ghost her, exactly."

"What would you call disappearing without explanation?"

"Self-preservation." His voice was uncharacteristically serious. "Look, Chloe was—is—brilliant. Top of our class, on track for a stellar business career. I was floundering, uncertain about my future, definitely not on her level. When I got the internship offer, I knew taking it meant dropping out, changing direction completely."

"And you couldn't tell her this because...?"

He sighed. "Because she'd just been offered an amazing summer internship with a top consulting firm. If I'd told her I was leaving school, that I was changing everything... she might have tried to follow me. Or worse, she might have tried to talk me out of it. And she would have succeeded."

I processed this. "So instead of having an adult conversation, you disappeared."

"I was twenty-one and an idiot." He turned into the parking lot of the ice rink. "Anyway, it worked out. She got her business degree, I found my calling. Water under the bridge."

"Doesn't look like water under the bridge from where I'm sitting," I muttered as we parked.

The ice rink was buzzing with activity when we entered. Families milled around the lobby, children running in excited circles, adults chatting in groups. I felt immediately out of place in my borrowed jersey, an impostor in this established hockey community.

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