“And how are you keeping yourself ready for the ice, Zack?”

A small laugh comes out. “Training my ass off, running, working out, eating right.” I pause, going deeper. “I’m identifying negative thoughts, accepting them, and challenging them. I’m a fighter.”

Another reporter noses in. “Will you be able to defeat that Minnesota-Duluth team in the tournament?”

I level my gaze at the camera. “Winners are born to be brought down and their day is coming. Go Lions.”

Cheers go up as the pep band kicks in again.

Flashes go off in my face and cameras swing back and forth, getting the full range of the packed room.

Coach rises to wrap everything up, and I move away and take a seat at the table.

“What else can you tell us about the Predators, Zack? Will you be at summer training camp?”

“Will you be placed on the sick roster?”

“Do you think you’ll have another episode?”

I don’t know the answers to their questions, but I know one thing is true.

Everyone knows what I’m dealing with, and there are no more secrets.

They know I’m not perfect. I have flaws—deep ones.

I may not ever play in the NHL, but at least there’s beauty in this, a kind of peace in admitting the truth.

39

Sugar

I stare at the door of the Kappa house. I don’t know why the hell I’m at this stupid party. Again.

But I do. Part of me wonders if he’ll show. Maybe he’s already here.

Let him go, I remind myself yet again.

I let out a slow exhalation. Just breathe.

I look down at my taupe ankle boots with fringe and the royal blue spaghetti-strap dress Julia suggested I wear. It’s soft and silky, and I’m freezing, but I don’t think I’ll be here long anyway. I think about my dorm room, already itching to get back to it. These days I rarely leave except for class and BB’s, and my friends are right—I’m a sad sack of shit.

I push the door open and the blare of Sir Mix-a-Lot hits me in the face. Nice.

The basement is semi-dark and decorated with tons of black and gold streamers hanging from the ceiling. A poster hangs on the wall: Take It All The Way, Lions. There’s even a banner with pictures of the players in their uniforms plastered next to the DJ booth.

My friends, who’ve obviously been waiting by the door, dash over. Taylor and Poppy are decked out in black and gold since we won our game in the tournament last night. Taylor’s wearing a glittery shirt with a lion on the front and Poppy matches him in a gold cardigan and black pants. Only Julia is the holdout in a clingy green dress and black stilettos. A familiar, tall guy in jeans and a grey sweater stands behind her, and she presents him gently as if she’s afraid I’ll rip his face off.

“Hi,” I say as the not-date-but-just-a guy-I-agreed-to meet-up-with gives me a grin, the same one he’s been giving me in class for the past few weeks. He is handsome, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a muscular build. I guess it comes from being the wide receiver for the football team. Julia swears she’s never hooked up with him, but she did meet him the same night I met Z at the Kappa party. Turns out, they have two classes together, and a tentative friendship has ensued.

Dallas looks at me appreciatively. “Hey. You look beautiful. I’m glad you made it. Some of these guys were doubtful.” He throws a glance at Poppy, who snorts.

“Dude, she hates these things,” she says.

Taylor smiles. “I knew she’d show. Kappa parties don’t scare her.”

“I’m only scared of pixie girls who think I’m flirting with their boyfriends.” I laugh.

“There must be a story there,” Dallas says, and I nod as our friends eye us with interest and sip on their drinks.

I can practically hear Taylor cooing, wanting me to be into this guy.

And I get it.

They’re worried about me. They want me to be happy.

I nod, giving them a thumbs-up.

Let them believe it.

But…

Dallas isn’t going to fix me. I need out of Sparrow Lake and away from HU. I need distance from Z.

Dallas is charming, though, and I laugh at all the right times, even though my eyes keep sweeping the room.

A few drinks later—yes, I have the punch—and Dallas and Taylor are talking about the next championship hockey game that’s coming up, and my chest tightens. It’s enough that his face is everywhere, even in the news. I think back to the press conference a few days ago, and I feel a sense of relief about him going public.

Julia hooks her arm in mine. “I’m going to the bar. Come with?”

I give her a nod and we tell the others we’ll be back in a minute.

We weave through the crowd and a hand grabs me to spin me around.

My stomach drops.

But it isn’t Z.

Dressed in tight black pants and a Goo Goo Dolls short-sleeved shirt that showcases his nice arms and colorful tattoos, it’s Bennett. The brunette from the Tipsy Moose hangs on to him and it doesn’t even make me blink. Not one ounce of pain.

“Sugar!” He takes me in, his eyes brightening, taking in my dress.

“Hey.” My gaze drifts to the girl at his side and she just shrugs at me. Huh. He found someone who lets him do whatever, I guess? Well. Good for him.

He takes a step closer to me. “I’m glad I saw you, actually. I’ve wanted to tell you I’m sorry, really sorry about how I treated you. I didn’t do the right thing by you.”

I nod. “Okay.” Bye now.

Julia says she’s going to the bar, and I want to flip around and follow, but Bennett catches my arm, his gaze pleading, and I pause. “Truly,” he says, laying a hand on his heart, and I briefly wonder if he was always this dramatic and somehow I just missed it.

“I hope you’re good, Bennett.” And I mean it.

He smirks. “Will you forgive me for being a dickhead, babe?”

I laugh and he laughs along with me, looking a little unsure.

A slow song comes on, an Ed Sheeran tune, and Bennett gives me another lingering look.

Oh, shit. Please do not ask me to dance.

“Want to dance?” he says with a cocked eyebrow. “One more time for old times’ sake?”

“Uh…”

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to see Dallas behind me, looking rather awkward, and I get it when I see Julia and Poppy behind him. My eyes narrow. So, she didn’t go to the bar, instead circling back and bringing him over to save me.

“I’m here to see if you need rescuing,” he says under his breath. “Or we can dance?”

I think about it and part of me wants to know what it feels like to have strong arms slide around me and guide me as we move together.

I take his hand and we head to the dance floor. I send Bennett a parting wave.

“He looks like you kicked him,” Dallas says, and I laugh up at him.

“Nah, trust me, he’ll rebound quick.”

He nods, looking down at me until I break our gaze. Dallas is nice, he is, but…

We’re quiet as we sway to the music, a few inches between us, and I like his arms around me even if they aren’t the ones I want.

A buzz goes through the air, an electric stillness that hums, and I freeze. The party seems to dampen down a notch, and my eyes scour the room, looking, feeling him.

I find Z near the door, but he hasn’t seen me yet.

He’s a goddamn fantasy come to life and my breath hitches in my chest. Tall, massive, and looming over those around him, his hair is wild, grown out, the dark beard on his jawline contrasting vividly with the lighter strands on his head.

His gaze sweeps the room, eyeing groups of people and moving on, flitting from person to person as he scans the perimeter and then looks to the dance floor.

Our gazes lock.

The temperature drops as his eyes move from me to Dallas, hardening before flying back to me. Accusing—until that emotion is shuttered.

Some girl I don’t know has her arm hooked into his.

“You okay?” Dallas looks down at me and follows my gaze. “Ah, shit.”

Bitterness builds within me as I watch them move through the crowd, people slapping his back and congratulating him on the win.

“You good?” Dallas asks, and I turn back to him.

“Just keep dancing.”

I feel winded, my body acutely aware of every move Z makes as he strides his way across the room, getting lost in the sea of people. I lean my head on Dallas’s shoulder so I don’t have to watch Z.

I should leave the party. That’s the rational thing to do.

But I can’t. It’s like I need to see him. I need to see that he’s moved on.

My neck prickles as if someone is staring, and I look over.

Z and his date are dancing next to us.

His eyes are on me, and my heart dips.

Dammit.

I never should have come.

This can’t go on. Why am I torturing myself?

I stop in my tracks, murmur, “I’m sorry,” to Dallas, and bolt away.

40

Zack

“And this is Carrie,” Eric says out in the parking lot of the Kappa House as the girl in question gives me a shy smile and walks over.

She’s pretty with long dark hair and…everything else, I guess.