Riley POV

I don’t know how much time passes after Nate says the words. I love you, Riley.

It’s like the world just froze in place. The crowd noise fades into nothing. The flashing cameras blur into the background, their bright lights dancing in the corner of my vision. I can barely hear my own breath, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

Did he just, did he really just say that?

He loves me.

The words swirl around in my head, over and over, like some kind of twisted mantra. But I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My chest is tight, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and denial.

He’s standing there, on the other side of the glass, staring at me, waiting. But what do I say? What do I do? The betrayal’s still fresh, raw, and jagged like a reopened wound. The way he lied to my face.

But then there’s that look in his eyes, something raw, something real. Something I’ve never seen before.

And I know he’s not just saying this because he’s caught up in the heat of the moment. This isn’t some spontaneous outburst. He meant it.

But do I?

Do I love him enough to say it out loud?

The buzzer goes off, the team erupts in celebration, and the reporters start shouting, snapping pictures, trying to break through to him. I’m stuck, frozen to the spot, my feet like cement. I can’t look away from Nate, even though everything in me wants to turn and run.

The guys from his team grab him, pulling him away, their voices drowning out everything else. I can’t hear them, though. I can only hear the echo of his words.

And then he’s gone.

I stand there, a million thoughts racing through my head, the seconds stretching into hours. How could I have been so wrong? All this time, I thought he was just another player, just another guy who would use me and then disappear. But now, standing here, watching him get carried away by his teammates, I feel the weight of it all.

I hate him.

I love him.

I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling.

It’s only when the crowd starts to thin out and the arena begins to clear that I finally move. I push through the exit, heading toward the back lot where the players’ cars are parked. The cool night air hits me like a punch to the chest, snapping me out of the haze.

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know why I’m even looking for him.

But I am.

And there he is.

Nate’s standing by the rink’s back exit, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out into the parking lot like he’s waiting for something, waiting for me. His jacket’s open, and I can see the way his shoulders are slumped, the way the night air’s making his breath visible.

It’s like the whole world’s waiting for something to break.

He doesn’t see me at first, and for a split second, I hesitate. But then he turns, and our eyes lock. His face falls just slightly, like he’s relieved I’m here, but still unsure of what’s next.

I step forward, almost without thinking.

“Riley,” he breathes, like he’s afraid to say my name too loud, like the whole world might hear him.

“You...” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “You just told everyone that you love me.”

“I did,” he says quietly, his voice low but steady. “And I meant it.”

I stare at him, heart in my throat. I want to say something, but I don’t know what.

“What do you want from me, Nate?” The words are out before I can stop them. The frustration, the confusion, the hurt, it all spills out. “You…You lied. And now you’re standing here, telling me you love me like it’s supposed to fix everything?”

He steps toward me, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding behind the bullshit.”

“You don’t get it.” My voice shakes, but I don’t care. “I hated hockey, Nate. Then I met you.”

The words hang in the air between us, raw and jagged. I’m so fucking angry at him, at myself for feeling this way, for caring when I promised myself I wouldn’t.

But then he steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s no smirk, no bravado. Just the man I’ve been avoiding, the one I’ve been pushing away, standing here, showing me something real.

“You made me want to be better than the lie I’ve been living,” he says softly.

It hits me then. Hard. The weight of it. He’s been running from himself, just like I’ve been running from him. But maybe, just maybe, we’ve been running from the same thing.

I take a step toward him, and that’s when it happens. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth of his body, the pulse of life radiating off him. My heart’s hammering in my chest, a thousand emotions crashing over me.

And then his lips are on mine.

It’s slow. So slow. The world doesn’t exist anymore. There’s nothing but him, nothing but us. Every word I’ve wanted to say, every thought I’ve kept hidden, it all pours into this kiss. It’s desperate. It’s raw. And it’s real.

When we finally pull away, we’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together, both of us panting.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against my lips.

“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“For not telling you sooner,” he says, and there’s an edge of vulnerability there. “For not being brave enough.”

I shake my head. “You’re here now.”

And that’s all that matters.

The next morning, I find myself standing in front of my apartment, Nate’s jersey in my hands. I don’t even question it. I just slip it over my head, the fabric swallowing me whole. It’s big on me, but I don’t care. It’s his. And in this moment, that’s all I need.

I head out, meeting Avery in the lobby, her eyes wide when she sees me.

“You wore his jersey?” she says, an incredulous smile on her face.

I nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. I did.”

And for the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid to admit it. To admit that I’m not just falling for the guy behind the jersey. I’m falling for him. The real him.

I’m not running anymore.