Riley POV

I’ve spent the past three days pretending I don’t care. But I do. God, I do. More than I should. More than I can afford to.

I’ve ignored my phone. Ignored the constant stream of texts and missed calls from Nate. He’s been trying, I know that. He sent me one message last night—simple and direct, a “Can we talk?” I stared at it for an hour, my finger hovering over the reply. But I couldn’t bring myself to type anything. I couldn’t bring myself to pretend like it wasn’t all too much. Like the weight of everything wasn’t suffocating.

I felt the anger when I saw that damn picture, that fucking picture, slapped the truth across my face from the charity event. He was there, with his team. He’s one of them. He’s not just the guy I thought I was falling for. He’s a fucking hockey player.

The worst part? I love him. I love him. The ache of it is unbearable. I can’t look at his name on my screen without wanting to throw my phone across the room.

The door to my apartment creaks open, pulling me out of my spiral. Avery. Of course. She’s been on me like a hawk the past few days. Probably because I haven’t left the house or even pretended to be okay.

She doesn’t wait for an invitation. She just walks in and flops down beside me on the couch. “You look like hell,” she says bluntly, and I almost laugh at how familiar her words sound.

“I feel like it,” I reply, my voice flat.

She eyes me for a moment, her expression unreadable, then sighs. “You’re still avoiding him, aren’t you?”

I don’t answer, just focus on the way my fingers tighten around the mug of coffee in front of me. I can’t even drink it without thinking of him.

Avery doesn’t need to be told. She knows me too well. “Riley, listen to me,” she says, and her voice softens, almost too gentle. “You didn’t fall for a hockey player. You fell for him. The guy who finally let himself be loved.”

Her words hit like a punch, and I can’t breathe for a second. “I didn’t—”

“Stop. You’re not stupid. You know exactly who you fell for.” Avery leans back, her gaze steady on mine. “He’s not like the rest of them. You think I don’t see it? I do. I see how he’s been trying. How he’s been different. He’s been trying to be someone he’s not for you, Riley. But you’re the one who walked away.”

My throat tightens, and for a second, I wonder if she’s right. If maybe I’m the one who fucked this up.

“Don’t,” she continues, her tone sharper now. “You’re sitting here, hurting yourself. You’re making this harder than it has to be. He’s not perfect. Neither are you. But you can’t keep shutting him out because he’s a hockey player. That’s not why you love him, and you know it.”

I hate that she’s right. It makes me angry. It makes me feel exposed. I don’t want to love him. I don’t want to feel like this. This… ache. This need. This vulnerability I’ve never wanted to acknowledge.

But the truth is, I do love him. I love a hockey player. I’m in too deep to walk away now.

I shake my head, turning away from her. “I can’t, Avery. I can’t be the one to make the first move.”

Her face softens, and she leans closer. “Then you’re going to let him slip away? After everything you two have been through? You’re not just hurting him, Riley. You’re hurting yourself. You’re letting fear win.”

I’m so close to breaking down. The hurt is too much. I feel like I’m drowning in this mess that I’ve made, and every time I close my eyes, I see his face. His smile. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The way he made me feel like I was the only person in the room, even when he was surrounded by a million distractions.

But then I remember the truth: He lied. He kept this huge part of himself from me. And I can’t trust him like I used to. The trust we had, the way we built something between us, it’s shattered now.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him, Avery. I don’t know if I even want to,” I say, the words barely above a whisper. “He lied to me. He’s part of that world, the one I hate.”

Avery doesn’t push me, but she doesn’t back off either. She just sits beside me, letting the silence speak for both of us. She knows. She knows how hard this is. But what she doesn’t understand is that I don’t just want to be angry at him. I want to be angry at myself, too. For letting myself fall in love with someone who could never be mine. Not really.

I look down at my hands, feeling small and broken. “What if he doesn’t even care? What if this was all just some stupid game for him?”

Avery sighs, the frustration in her voice clear now. “If you really believe that, then you’ve got bigger problems than your damn pride, Riley. You need to stop pretending you don’t care. And you need to decide if you want to be alone or if you’re willing to take a chance on him. On him, not his fucking jersey.”

Her words hit me like a slap to the face, and for the first time in days, I feel something other than anger. Sadness, sure. But also… I don’t know. Maybe a little bit of hope.

But it’s buried under so much hurt.

I stand up abruptly, my heart pounding. “I can’t. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to let him back in.”

Avery watches me, her eyes full of knowing. “You don’t have to be ready, Riley. You just have to be honest with yourself. And with him.”

And just like that, I’m lost again. She’s right. I can’t keep running from what I feel. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care.

I’m in love with a hockey player. I’m scared. I’m angry. And underneath all that?

I’m still holding on.

But I can’t make the first move. Not when I’m so damn scared of getting hurt again.