Page 123 of Your Biggest Downfall
I nodded, grabbing my headphones from my purse, and played the press interview he must’ve done this morning since it was a recording.
Austin’s eyes were hollow and tired as he scanned the room of reporters. Typically, he’d be standing next to his agent or coach, but no one was there with him.
“I’ve been suffering for a long time,” he began. “I’m sick. I finally hit rock bottom, and I need to admit I need help.” He paused, curling his fingers around the edge of the podium. “The NHL has been incredibly gracious, allowing me out of my contract for the season. Right now, what’s most important is my health—getting better.” He took a breath. “It’s taken me a long time to admit that I’m an addict. But my addiction is in control of my life, and I need help.”
I pushed up my sweatshirt sleeve, staring at the scratches the glass had left on my arm. The sight was a painful reminder of why I couldn’t be with Austin anymore. Each mark, though small, carried the weight of everything that had gone wrong. It hurt, but it also made the choice clear—it was time to let go.
The room fell silent for a moment, and then the camera panned to a reporter in the crowd. “We’ve heard a rumor that you’re getting a divorce, just a few months after your marriage. Care to comment?”
Austin looked up at the camera, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He let out a long sigh. “My wife,” he started, his voice thick with emotion, “is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. But... my addiction took over our marriage. I put booze first and her second. It cost me everything—my marriage, my future with her. And I take full responsibility for that.”
He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor before continuing. “My... ex-wife... she’s the most gracious, kind, and wonderful person. She loved me more than I deserved. She stood by me for as long as she could, but I failed her. I failed to show up when she needed me most. She believed in me, and I let her down in ways that can never be forgiven.”
Austin looked back up at the camera, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I hope, wherever she goes, she finds the happiness and peace she deserves. She’s strong, and I know she’ll soar, with or without me.”
The room fell silent. I sat there, my heart heavy, knowing this was the closure neither of us had been able to give each other face-to-face.
The interview clicked off, and I stared out at a plane beginning its ascent down the runway. It felt too fitting, watching it rise into the sky, gaining momentum with every second. My life, like that plane, had been grounded for so long, weighed down by everything—Austin, the grief, the uncertainty. But now, like that plane, I was finally picking up speed, heading somewhere new, somewhere unknown.
I wasn’t sure what turbulence lay ahead, but for the first time in a long while, I was moving forward—leaving behind what couldn’t come with me. It was time to take off.
I clutched my stomach, and Luna leaned in, whispering, “You okay?”
“Yeah, just feeling off,” I replied.
Luna sipped her mimosa. “Probably the stress of everything.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed, nodding. I leaned back, grabbing a book to distract myself, knowing that in less than eight hours, I’d be in my new home.
Luna fished a tampon from her bag and waved it. “Duty calls.”
I waved her off and closed my eyes for a moment.
Love, I realized, wasn’t some perfect fairy tale with clean edges and a picture-perfect ending. It was messy. It was complicated. It was raw, gritty, and moved at a pace I couldn’t always keep up with. Life hit hard, and love wasn’t always enough to patch the cracks. But even in the middle of the chaos,love still existed. It wasn’t always the kind that lasted forever. It wasn’t always the kind that saved you.
Austin taught me that love—real love—shouldn’t leave me wondering if I was enough. What I wanted wasn’t just passion or fireworks—it was safety. It was security. Someone who felt like home, not a battlefield.
The truth was, not all love stories ended with two people staying together. Some love stories ended with people learning to walk away. And as much as I wanted the forever kind of love, that wasn’t this. That didn’t mean it wasn’t my happily ever after. In a way, it felt like one. Not because I ended up with someone else, but because I found myself.
I was stronger now than I had been months ago. I’d been through hell and back, and I survived. I might not have had a perfect ending with Austin, but I found something as important: my own strength, my own worth. And sometimes, the greatest love story was the one I lived with myself. I didn’t need a fairy tale ending to feel whole. I had become my own happily ever after.
55
austin
I had made decisions in my life, ones that led me to where I was now. “I, uh, sent in the divorce papers. Can you please check with my attorney to make sure everything is finalized? She can have whatever she wants, Mom. She can take it all.”
My mother was crying as the movers packed the last of my things into storage. It had been a week since the press conference, a week since my life had been turned upside down. I was accepted into a full-time rehabilitation program that I’d found in California. It was a six-month program, which included working the steps as well as the ability to graduate to more of a sober-living facility when I was complete with the intensive part.
The morning after Nova walked out on me, when I woke up sober for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew I’d hit rock bottom. It wasn’t just the alcohol or the drugs—I had lost her, and that was my breaking point. I called the team, my agent, Coach, and Ledger, trying to figure out what the next step should be. Ledger was surprisingly the most willing to help this time. Maybe he saw something in me—maybe he noticed that I genuinely wanted to change.
And I did. I had already lost Nova, and the tone in her voice that night made it clear she wasn’t coming back. She wantednothing to do with me anymore. But for the first time, I realized that the change had to be for myself, for my future, whatever that looked like. If I didn’t do something, it was only going to get worse.
“You know,” my mom said quietly, pulling me from my thoughts of the past, “I saw her at the funeral. When you weren’t there. I begged her to give you another chance.”
I walked over and hugged her. “She should have never needed to give me another chance, Mom. I felt this pressure—to perform for the team, for her, for you guys. I couldn’t handle it all, and I just... cracked.”
“But you were married for such a short time,” she said, her voice trembling. “Don’t you think if you get better, you could find her again and win her back?”
