Page 53 of Heart Checked By the Hockey Heartthrob

So, when I walk into the clinic on Monday morning, I’m feeling light. Light and full of something dangerously close to joy.

Megan is already at the desk, sipping from her ridiculous cat mug. "Your secret admirer at it again?" she asks, eyeing the small bouquet of fresh-picked wildflowers sitting in a mason jar beside my monitor.

I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. "No note. Just flowers."

Megan smirks. "That man is a walking swoon. You better lock that down."

Before I can answer, another nurse, Lauren, sweeps in, phone in hand. "Okay, don’t shoot the messenger, but I justsaw something on the Sunset Cove Bulletin board that… might interest you."

She glances between us, the air suddenly thick with the unspoken.

"What?" I ask.

"Someone posted that Wes Archer was offered a spot on the Avalanche’s coaching staff. Like, a big-time league. It was tagged in some hockey forum and now it’s making the rounds. The post didn’t say if he accepted. Just that it was ‘still in play.’"

My stomach drops.

Still in play?

I stare at her, then look at the bouquet. My heart thrums, confused.

He said he turned it down. That he wanted to stay. That he wanted me.

Megan raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I lie. "I just… need a second."

I retreat to the break room, the door clicking shut behind me. I lean against it, pressing my fingers to my temples.

This town thrives on gossip. And that post could mean nothing. But still—the ache in my chest blooms like a bruise.

Have I gotten too comfortable too soon?

I sit at the worn table and glance around the break room—mismatched mugs, a bulletin board with flyers, and the lingering smell of hazelnut coffee. I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them.

A memory surfaces—me sitting in this same room a year ago, just after Wes had left. My phone had just buzzed with a message I never saw coming:Quinn, I have to go. I’m sorry.

I remember staring at that text like it was written in a language I didn’t understand. I came here and sat in this very chair, stunned. Megan had tried to distract me with ridiculous animalmemes and bad vending machine hot chocolate. I’d pretended to laugh. But inside, I was hollow.

Worse than the heartbreak was the shame. I’d let myself believe in something, and it vanished without warning. I watched Wes walk away and convinced myself it meant I wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t worth staying for.

And now… here I am again. Flowers in hand, kissed breathless, and still startled by the whisper of doubt.

The door cracks open. Megan peeks in, then steps inside and shuts it behind her.

"So… drama?"

I groan. "I overheard something stupid. And instead of brushing it off, I let it crawl inside my head."

She hands me a mini chocolate bar from her scrub pocket. "Eat this and remember: you’re not the girl you were a year ago. You’re the girl he pickednow.That counts for something."

"Thanks, Meg."

"And if hedidlie—which I highly doubt—I know where we keep the syringes."

I burst out laughing. "Please don’t stab my boyfriend."

"Noted. But the option’s there."

---