Page 32 of Exes That Puck
The cold air outside pinches my skin. I tell myself I’m just checking if his truck is still here. That’s it. Nothing more complicated than satisfying simple curiosity.
I step off the curb to get a better view of the parking area, and brake lights flare as a truck stops inches from me. My heart hammers as the driver’s window rolls down.
“Kare?”
The nickname makes my chest tighten. “Kara.”
I move to the driver’s side, automatically glancing at the empty passenger seat. Relief floods through me before I can stop it.
“You meeting someone?” The question comes out more blunt and obvious than I intended.
“No.” His answer is clean, quick. No defensiveness or explanation that feels like an excuse.
The wind cuts through my coat, and I shiver involuntarily.
“Get in,” he says, reaching for something in his back seat. “You’re freezing.”
I shouldn’t. This breaks every rule I’ve set for myself over the past seventy days. But the cold is bitter, and his truck is warm, and part of me has been wanting this conversation since I saw him in the bookstore.
I climb into the passenger seat, and he immediately hands me his hoodie. The gesture catches me off guard, not because it’s grand or romantic, but because it’s considerate without expectation. He doesn’t press for anything in return, doesn’t use it as an opening to touch me.
New behavior. I file it away.
I pull the hoodie over my head, engulfed in his smell. My chest aches until my head pops through.
He puts the truck in drive, then pauses. “I can park somewhere?”
I nod, agreeing. “Yeah. Just for five minutes?”
He nods. “Five minutes.”
He pulls into an empty spot near the back of the lot and keeps the engine on. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with things we’re not saying.
“Why were you leaving?” I ask finally.
He’s quiet for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel. “Because staying would’ve gotten awkward. For both of us.”
“You think?” I say before processing it. I guess he’s right.
He tilts his head, looking out the window. “The old me would’ve spent the entire night trying to find excuses to talk to you. Would’ve probably sent you a drink and convinced myself it was just being friendly.” He glances at me. “Figured it was better to leave and give you space to enjoy your night.”
The honesty surprises me. No deflection, no attempt to make himself look better than he is. I don’t know what to say, so I change the subject.
“I saw you with that kid at the rink,” I say. “During the charity thing.”
A small smile crosses his face. “His name was Connor. I showed him the double-knot trick with my laces.”
I smile. “That’s sweet.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s something different about him when he talks about it. Like he’s been living a life beyond our breakup loop, finding meaning in things that have nothing to do with me.
“I need to tell you something,” I say. “About the blocking thing.”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods.
“Payton pushed for it. But I let her do it.” The words feel heavy. “I should’ve handled it myself instead of letting her make that choice for me.”
“Got it.” He doesn’t sound angry, just understanding. “I’m sorry about the meme. I know I said I’d give you space, and then I immediately didn’t.”
