Page 87 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
"But it would mean leaving next month. For six months. During your season."
He reached for his phone, pulling up a calendar. "Let's see... your six months would overlap with our heaviest travel schedule anyway. If you left next month, you'd be back by..."
"You're figuring out the logistics?" I asked, bewildered. "Aren't you upset?"
Austin put his phone down, his gaze intense. "Why would I be upset about an amazing opportunity for you?"
"Because it would mean being apart. Long-distance. Different time zones." I swallowed hard. "Most relationships don't survive that."
"Most relationships aren't us," he said simply.
"How can you be so calm about this? We'd barely see each other."
Austin took my hands in his. "I'm not saying it would be easy. But Kate, this is your career. Your passion. I'd never ask you to give that up for me."
My eyes burned with unexpected tears. "I don't want to lose what we have."
"We won't," he said with quiet certainty. "We'll have video calls. I can visit during breaks. Six months isn't forever."
"What if it is?" I whispered, voicing my deepest fear. "What if you realize your life is simpler without my chaos? What if I come back and you've moved on?"
"That won't happen," Austin said, his thumb stroking my palm in gentle circles. "What we have is worth the effort, Kate. I'm in this for the long game, not just the easy plays."
I searched his face, finding nothing but sincerity in those blue eyes that had become my home.
"You really believe that?"
"Yes, with everything I have," he answered.
CHAPTER 22
AUSTIN
The puck slid past my stick for the third time that night, a mistake a rookie wouldn't make. Coach Martinez's glare from the bench burned into my back as I skated for a line change, slamming the gate behind me.
"The fuck was that, Stone?" Dennis hissed beside me. "You're playing like your skates are tied together."
I grunted, squirting water into my mouth. The truth was humiliating—I couldn't focus. Two days away from Kate, and my game was falling apart like wet cardboard.
"Just get your head out of your ass," Dennis muttered. "We need you on the power play."
We won—barely—despite my lackluster performance. In the locker room afterward, Coach pulled me aside, his expression grave.
"Something you want to share with me about that knee, Callahan?"
"Knee's fine," I insisted, yanking off my jersey.
"Then explain what I just watched out there. Because that wasn't the player I cleared for a full schedule."
I met his eyes, knowing I owed him honesty. "Just an off night, Coach. Won't happen again."
He studied me for a long moment. "See that it doesn't. We're counting on you tomorrow."
Back in my hotel room, I fell onto the bed, physically exhausted but mentally wired. The silence felt oppressive after months of Kate's constant background chaos—her mumbled scientific theories, the tapping of her fingers against keyboards, even the way she hummed off-key while reading.
I grabbed my phone, calculating the time difference. Late, but maybe not too late.
Kate answered on the third ring, her voice sleepy. "Austin? Everything okay?"
