Page 7 of Hockey Halloween
How many times have I told myself I would never repeat the same mistakes? Apparently, not enough.
Nolan exhales loudly, running his hand over his face. “I was going to say more before that fan started fangirling over me…but I didn’t want it to be the first thing you knew about me.”
“You mean you didn’t want it to bethething I knew about you.”
He doesn’t argue, because I’m right.
“I’ve been here before and it didn’t end well for me,” I admit the ugly truth of my last relationship.
“Another player hurt you?”
Nodding once, I confirm his guess. “He shattered me.” I meet his eyes, the sudden sadness in them mirroring my own. “I promised myself I’d never date an athlete again.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t let my heart start falling more for him while still remembering how much it hurt the last time I fell for a player.
“I should go,” I murmur.
When I run inside, he doesn’t follow. I don’t dare to look back, repeating the same mantra over and over—it’s better this way—though I don’t truly believe it.
Ford
Completely frozen in the same spot for what feels like hours, but is less than a few minutes, I watch her run away from me. I don’t call after her or stop her. I just stand there, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.
Because that haunted look on her face—a mix of hesitation, fear, and something else I couldn’t quite read—hit harder than any body check I’ve taken on the ice. Still, I didn’t say a damn thing to reassure her that I’m nothing like her piece of shit ex.
I’ve never claimed to be good at relationships or matters of the heart in general. Hell, most days I can barely sort through my own mess of emotions, let alone someone else’s.
Who knows what would happen if we even took the shot. There’s no guarantee of this being more than one night thing. Yet, even if we barely know each other, I want to see where this new, fragile thing could go. With her, every interaction felt easy in a way nothing else has been in a long time. Willa snuck under my skin so fast I didn’t even realize she’d left a mark until she was already running away.
Once the realization hits and I clearly see where I went wrong, Ibolt for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I almost trip over my own damn feet.
Muttering a curse under my breath as I round the landing, I shove past a guy in a glow-in-the-dark skeleton suit. The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, yet all I can hear is the pounding of my heart.
By the time I hit the main floor, my chest is tight. Not from the sprint, but from the sinking feeling that I might’ve lost her without getting to know her better.
I keep moving, pushing through the crowd, scanning faces and costumes. No sexy mummy in sight. No familiar crinkle of her beaming smile. Only flashing lights, heat, and strangers. All of them blur together in a way that makes my stomach churn.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter under my breath.
“Ford?” I glance sideways and spot my linemate Beck near the main bar, a drink in one hand and his free arm slung around a cute brunette. “You alright, man? You look like you’ve lost something.”
If he only knew…
“I screwed something up big time,” I admit.
He lifts a brow. “That curvy woman in a mummy costume we saw with you earlier?”
“Yeah. I can’t find her.”
“She tore through here about a minute or two ago, looking ready to cry.” Beck winces. “Shit. Sorry, man. Go after her, you idiot. She can’t be far.”
“Thanks,” I call out his way, already moving.
The street outside the club is buzzing with partygoers, vehicles, and music spilling from other places nearby. It’s close to impossible to find her in this chaos. I spin in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of white gauze or a familiar sway of those wide hips.
About to give up, I turn back toward the street I’d written off and spot a familiar figure nearly a block away. She strides further, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she’s trying to hold everything in. The streetlight catches in her hair, casting a halo over the woman I should’ve stopped the second she turned away from me.
I don’t think, I just move.
