1. Ellie

1

Ellie

ONE YEAR LATER

Cornell University is amazing but there’s one thing missing.

Ethan.

How can I still miss him after the way things ended, after all this time?

It’s as if I cannot move on.

While my world seemed to have fallen apart when I walked out of the apartment, Ethan’s exploded in all the best ways.

He signed to a professional hockey team in Nashville, Tennessee and has become an overnight sensation. His face is plastered everywhere and he hasn’t even had his first game.

Well, until tonight that is.

I blow out a long exhale as I follow the masses into the ice rink.

Why am I here?

Why am I doing this?

Why am I torturing myself like this?

He’s been seen with other women like a male escort and I’ve been single this entire time, finding myself.

He doesn’t miss me like I miss him, which should tell me all I need to know.

“He’s moved on, Ellie, you need to do the same,” Daniel tells me at least once a week.

I inhale and exhale slowly, making my way to my seat. Don’t ask me why I made sure to spend all of my savings money on a seat similar to where I would sit for him to find me at all of his high school and college games.

Maybe I just needed that familiar feeling one last time.

When Daniel told me that Ethan had sent him an invite to sit in one of the fancy box suites my heart hurt that I didn’t get that same invite.

Damn it, Elena, get out of this negative quicksand now!

You’ve worked so hard on yourself, now is not the time to fall backwards.

I learned so much from Ethan. I love him and probably always will have a special place in my heart for him.

I have to focus on all of the good things that came out of our relationship and not the bad thing that ended it.

He was my best friend after all and maybe that’s the hardest part of our breakup. Grief is real.

I take my seat at center ice.

“The best seats in the house for my best girl. I always know when I look there, I’ll see your beautiful face looking back at me,” Ethan used to say.

I'm surrounded by other fans who are all buzzing about the new rookie. There are comments about how hot he is, how he’s going to fall flat on his face, and how he’s going to change the entire team around in one game.

I smile to myself.

Ethan is so talented, and I can’t wait for him to prove that to everyone here today.

I wouldn’t miss this for anything, not even the painful twist of nerves in my stomach or the ghosts of our past that linger like unwelcome shadows.

Settling into the plastic chair, I wrap my scarf tighter around my neck, seeking some semblance of comfort. The cold air of the arena bites, a stark contrast to the warmth of the anticipation swirling around me.

The lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd, only to be shattered by a thunderous roar as spotlights swing across the ice. The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, hyping up the crowd, introducing the players. When they call Ethan’s name, the cheer is deafening. I can’t help but join in, my voice lost in the cacophony.

There he is.

He’s gliding onto the ice with the effortless grace that first drew me to him. My breath catches in my throat, a swell of pride mixing with the bittersweet ache of our history.

Tears prick at my eyes.

I want to be in his arms right now.

I could really use a hug from him, to hear that deep voice call me El, and tell me that he missed me.

I shake my head and blow out my breath.

I didn’t expect to miss him this much by seeing him.

Focus, Elena. You’re here to support your best friend and maybe afterwards you can congratulate him, show him that you’re here for him, and talk. You can say all those things that you’ve been wanting to say for a year.

He looks so focused, so determined. Ethan always had that intensity about him, the ability to shut out the world and zero in on his goal. I remember those late-night practices, the endless drills, his unwavering dedication. It’s what makes him brilliant, but it’s also what drove a wedge between us, that and his partying.

I didn’t understand then how much he needed this, how much it defined him. I see it now, clear as the ice beneath his skates.

The national anthem plays, a moment of solemn unity before the storm. The crowd’s excitement builds to a fever pitch as the players take their positions. I grip the edge of my seat, leaning forward, my eyes glued to Ethan.

His eyes scan the crowd and for a second that ice blue intensity lands directly on me. I lock onto his gaze for a split second.

Does he see me?

Does he know I’m here for him?

His face is stoic, but there’s that small, cocky smile right before he slides his helmet on quickly, not breaking our gaze.

My heart flutters, my stomach drops, and my entire body tenses. Tears fill my eyes.

He sees me!

He knows I’m here for him. He knows and he’s happy about it.

Ethan lines up. The referee drops the puck, and the game begins.

It’s fast, frenetic, a blur of motion and sound. Players crash into the boards, skates carve into the ice, sticks clash. The noise is overwhelming, a symphony of chaos. I can barely keep up, my heart racing in tandem with the players. Ethan’s team gains control of the puck, swiftly passing it up the ice. He’s there, in perfect position, his eyes locked on the goal.

The opposing team’s defensemen close in, but Ethan’s too quick. He feints left, then right, slipping past them with a fluidity that leaves them scrambling. The crowd’s roar reaches a crescendo as he approaches the goal. Time seems to slow, each second stretching into eternity. I hold my breath, my heart hammering in my chest.

He shoots.

YES! He’s doing the damn thing already!

The puck sails through the air, a streak of black against the white ice. The goalie dives, but he’s too late. The red light flashes, the horn blares, and the crowd erupts. Ethan scores.

He did it!

Ethan scored his first ever professional goal and not even a minute has gone by in the game.

This is huge.

I’m so damn proud of him.

His eyes scan the crowd again. They land on me and I grin back at him.

It’s like no time has passed between us. It’s as if none of the bad stuff ever happened.

The noise is deafening, a tidal wave of sound crashing over me. But it’s like I’m in a protective bubble, still lost in Ethan’s gaze. He breaks the trance.

I jump to my feet, screaming, cheering. Ethan’s teammates swarm him, slapping his back, congratulating him. He’s grinning, that boyish, triumphant smile that used to melt my heart.

It still does.

Are you watching the game, sis?

What game?

Ethan’s game. He just scored his first goal. He’s on fire tonight. I wish you would have come tonight.

You told me it wasn’t a good idea. You said that Ethan didn’t want me here.

I may have lied to protect you. I feel bad about it now. I wish you were here to see this all. Please tell me you’re watching it on television.

No, he didn’t want me there. I didn’t want to watch. Besides, I’m in the middle of class and can’t.

I don’t like lying to my brother, but he can’t know that I’m here. He told me not to come, he told me that Ethan didn’t want me here and I should have honored that. I don’t want to seem pathetic and like I can’t move on.

Well, you can’t and everyone knows that.

I may have lied to protect you. Why did my brother say that?

Does that mean that Ethan wanted me here?

Stop it. Focus on the game. Be in the moment, not in Overthinking Land.

As the game continues, I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s everywhere, a force of nature on the ice, commanding, relentless.

Almost immediately, I notice the shift in the opposing team. They seem to be gunning for him now, their movements more aggressive, their eyes locked on him with predatory intent.

Ethan doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, he’s laughing, his face lighting up with that carefree grin I love so much. He skates gracefully, dodging and weaving out of their reach with ease. But I can’t shake the knot of worry forming in my stomach. The Cincinnati team is relentless, covering him every chance they get, shoving him into the boards, and tripping him up. My heart lurches every time he’s knocked down, but he gets back up, shaking it off like it’s nothing.

I’m on the edge of my seat, my hands clenched around my cup, feeling every hit and fall as if they’re happening to me. Ethan spins out of their grasp with a fluid motion, darting away with the puck. The crowd roars, but my focus is laser-sharp on him. He glides across the ice, effortlessly maneuvering around his opponents. One of his teammates passes him the puck, and Ethan takes off, skating with incredible speed towards the goal.

Just as he’s about to shoot, he passes the puck to a teammate, who scores. The arena erupts in cheers, but my joy is cut short when Ethan is slammed hard into the boards. My breath catches, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. He goes down hard, and I can’t breathe.

But then he’s up again, shaking off the hit and skating back into the fray. Relief floods through me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by anger as I see one of the opposing players taunting him. The next moment, a full-blown fight breaks out. Players from both teams are swinging, and the referees are trying to break it up. My heart races as I watch Ethan in the thick of it, holding his own.

The refs finally manage to separate them, and Ethan is sent to the penalty box, along with a couple of players from the other team. He’s breathing heavily, but he looks over at me and winks, as if to say, “I’m okay.” I can’t help but smile back, even though my heart is still pounding.

Watching him sitting there, so close yet so far, my emotions are a tangled mess of pride, fear, and love. He’s incredible, and seeing him handle everything with such grace and good humor makes me fall for him even more.

Stop that, Elena. You don’t get to have those feelings anymore, remember?

He’s no longer yours.

The game resumes, but my focus remains on Ethan, my heart in my throat as I wait for the penalty to end and for him to be back on the ice where he belongs. I cheer for every goal, every save, every brilliant play, but my heart is tethered to Ethan. He’s not just a player to me; he’s a part of my story, a part of me.

He’s sitting in the penalty box, still catching his breath, but his focus is sharp, eyes following the puck’s every move. I can feel his determination from where I sit, gripping my seat as if I can lend him some of my strength.

Finally, the door to the penalty box opens, and Ethan is back in the game.

Oh, my goodness!

He explodes onto the ice, immediately joining the fray. The puck is in the possession of the Cincinnati Cyclones, and they are making a hard drive toward Nashville’s goal. Ethan digs in, his powerful legs pumping as he races down the ice. The Cyclones are fast, but Ethan is faster. He’s closing the gap, his stick outstretched, desperate to block the shot. But just as his stick connects, the puck sails past him, and the red light behind the goal flashes. The Cyclones have scored.

My heart sinks, but Ethan doesn’t miss a beat. He skates back to center ice, his face set in a determined mask. I can see the intensity in his eyes even from the stands. He’s laser-focused, ready for the next play. The puck drops, and he’s off, moving with a clarity and purpose that makes my breath catch.

That’s the man I know.

Is he back to being the man I fell in love with?

The Cyclones are on him immediately, not giving him an inch. They’re rough, shoving and jostling him at every turn, but Ethan is undeterred. He weaves through them with the grace of a dancer. I can see the frustration on the faces of the Cyclones players as they struggle to contain him.

Ethan breaks free from the pack just enough to get a shot off. He winds up and fires the puck toward the goal. It’s a beautiful shot, arcing perfectly through the air. The goalie lunges, but he’s too late. The puck hits the back of the net, and the arena erupts in cheers. Ethan has answered their goal with a goal of his own.

That’s two, baby! That’s two!

My heart is in my throat, and I’m fighting back tears. I’m so proud of him I could burst. He skates past the bench, and for a moment, our eyes meet. I can see the fire in his eyes, the sheer determination and willpower that brought him to this point. It’s awe-inspiring.

He does see me. He knows that I’m here.

The game continues, but my focus is entirely on Ethan. Every move he makes, every play he’s a part of, I’m right there with him, feeling every emotion as if I’m on the ice myself. The Cyclones keep coming at him, but he doesn’t back down. He plays with a clarity and determination that leaves me breathless.

His teammates rally around him, feeding off his energy. The game is intense, the action nonstop, but through it all, Ethan remains calm and collected. He’s in the zone, completely focused on the task at hand.

Another rush towards the goal, and Ethan is there, intercepting a pass and turning the play around. He skates hard, pushing himself to the limit. The Cyclones try to take him down, but he’s too quick, too determined. He passes the puck to a teammate and sets up a perfect scoring opportunity. The puck finds the back of the net, and the crowd goes wild.

My emotions are a rollercoaster, swinging from pride to worry and back again. Watching Ethan out there, giving everything he has, is both exhilarating and terrifying. The game enters the final period. Ethan's team, the Falcons, are down by one goal, and the crowd is buzzing with anticipation, the air crackling with the collective energy of thousands of anxious fans. I’m on the edge of my seat, my heart pounding, my eyes glued to the ice.

The puck drops, and the final period begins with a ferocity that takes my breath away. Both teams are giving it their all. Ethan is everywhere, a blur of motion and determination. He fights for the puck, battles along the boards, and races down the ice with a speed that leaves the opposing team scrambling to keep up.

Time ticks away, the clock a relentless reminder of how little time is left. The score remains unchanged, and the tension mounts. I can see the strain on Ethan’s face, the set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes. He’s not going to let this game slip away. Not without a fight.

With just over a minute left on the clock, Ethan’s team gains possession of the puck. Ethan is at the blue line, his eyes locked on the puck, his body poised for action. The pass comes, and he takes it, skating down the ice with a grace and power that leaves me breathless.

Please let him score this goal.

Please. Please. Please.

The Cincinnati team’s defense closes in, but Ethan is too fast, too skilled. He weaves between them, the puck seemingly glued to his stick. He’s approaching the goal, and the crowd is on its feet, the noise is deafening, but it’s like Charlie Brown’s teacher talking. I’m standing too, my heart in my throat, every nerve in my body electrified.

Please. Please. Please.

Ethan fakes a shot, the goalie reacts, but it’s a feint.

Oh my goodness, he’s going to do it!

He pulls the puck back, shifts his weight, and in one smooth, fluid motion, he shoots. The puck flies past the goalie’s outstretched glove, a black blur against the white ice. The red light flashes, the horn blares, and the arena erupts.

Ethan scores!

The crowd goes wild. I’m screaming, cheering, crying. Ethan’s teammates swarm him. He’s grinning, that triumphant, boyish smile that lights up his entire face.

His eyes fall on me again. Everything fades into the background as I grin back at him.

I flash him a thumbs up before I wipe the tears from my eyes.

But the game isn’t over yet. The score is tied, and there are still precious seconds on the clock. The tension ratchets up another notch as the puck drops again. Ethan is back in the thick of it, battling for control, his determination a force of nature.

The seconds tick down, each one an eternity. The opposing team fights back hard, but the Falcons are relentless. With just seconds left, they gain control of the puck again. Ethan is there, ready and open. The puck comes to him, and he’s off, skating down the ice with a speed and precision that leaves the defenders flailing in his wake.

He approaches the goal, the goalie ready, the defense closing in. Time seems to slow, the world narrowing down to this one moment, this one chance. Ethan pulls back his stick, and I hold my breath, every fiber of my being focused on him.

He shoots. The puck flies, a streak of black against the ice. The goalie dives, the defenders lunge, but it’s too late.

That’s a goal, baby! That’s another goal!

Oh my God, he’s in his element! This is where he was meant to be! I’ve never seen him play like this before.

Ethan scores the game-winning goal.

He scored the first goal and the last goal. How poetic.

The noise is deafening, a tidal wave of sound that crashes over me, leaving me breathless, exhilarated. I’m screaming and don’t even realize it.

Ethan’s teammates mob him. He’s lifted off his feet, surrounded by his team, his face alight with triumph and relief.

I’m screaming, cheering, tears streaming down my face. I can’t stop smiling, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. Ethan looks up, his eyes scanning the crowd, and for a moment, our eyes meet again. There’s a connection there, a spark that transcends the distance between us.

I’m so glad that I chose to come tonight.

He’s a hero tonight. He showed the world what he’s capable of.

Things are about to get even crazier for him.

Reporters are already out on the ice trying to get to him. The rookie scores the game winning shot in his first professional game. This is huge for him

Ethan scored the game winning goal. Our boy did it! Damn, I wish you were here!

My fingers go to my keyboard, ready to reply and confess to my brother that I’m actually here. Another text notification comes in.

Good thing you and Ethan aren’t together anymore, after tonight he’d be impossible to deal with. So many women are going to be throwing themselves at him, you never stood a chance! There’s always a positive to the bullshit.

Will Jaclyn ever get the hint that I don’t want to speak to her?

I haven’t replied to any of her messages in a year.

How dare she make a comment like that . She was one of the women throwing themselves at my man.

Super hero again, it seems. Vomit. I wish you would have let me come visit you to keep you away from the television.

I’m fine, Ryan. I’m in a lecture. I’m assuming they won?

Bastard scored the game winning goal.

Good for him.

You’re better off without him, Ellie. Remember that. There’s no way you could have kept up with what’s going to be thrown at him now.

I blow out a breath and shake my head.

Why don’t I have friends who support me rather than passively aggressively put me down?

Shut up, Ellie. You do have those friends. You’ve made amazing friends at Cornell. They don’t know about your relationship with Ethan though so none of them will text you about this game.

I need to see him.

I make my way to the players’ exit, weaving through the throngs of jubilant fans. My heart is in my throat, a mix of fear and hope. I spot Ethan, his hair damp with sweat, his face flushed with victory.

How is it possible that he gets hotter every time I see him?

He’s talking to a reporter, smiling, laughing, but when he sees me, his expression shifts, a flicker of surprise, maybe even something softer.

The reporter leaves and his eyes are locked on mine.

“Ethan,” I start as I take a step toward him.

My eyes are filled with tears and everything I’ve wanted to say for the last year escapes me.

I need to be in his arms.

“Ethan, baby!” a voice screams shrilly as a gorgeous, thin blonde wearing a dress and stilettos comes racing towards him.

Who wears that to a hockey game?

Did she call him baby?

Daniel said he was single right now and… oh no.

Tears fill my eyes for a different reason now and I quickly back away. The woman jumps into his arms and plants a giant kiss on his mouth just as more reporters swarm him.

“You and Mercy Lietz?” one of the reporters ask. “That’s a match made in Heaven.”

“Mercy, what are you doing slumming with this guy?” another reporter asks. “And how does your dad feel about it?”

He’s dating the head coach's daughter?

Are you kidding me?

Ethan doesn’t say a word and Mercy takes over the conversation. His eyes flit to mine, but he’s a mask of indifference.

I duck my head and walk away quickly.

Why did I do this?

Why did I think this was a good idea?

I just made a huge fool of myself.

I race out of that rink and to my car quickly. My heart is shattered.

***

A YEAR LATER

“Ethan is on the downhill so badly,” Daniel sighs into the phone. “I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

I’d already seen that morning’s headlines in which he’d gotten pulled over for going over one hundred miles an hour in his brand new Jaguar. The night before he’d been the star of a game, even though he’d been in the penalty box for half of it for starting fights with the opposing team.

He and Mercy were plastered all over every magazine cover you could think of. They were hailed as the perfect couple.

I want to puke every time I see it.

“Daniel,” I murmur as I fight back tears. “I… I hate that for you. I hate that for him, but what’s the point of telling me?”

“I don’t know. I guess… I thought maybe you could talk to him. You’ve always been the one person who could get through to him no matter what.”“You do that too.”

“Not this time. He doesn’t even reply to my calls or texts. He came home a few weeks ago for less than twelve hours and didn’t even come to see me or Grams.”

“He’s got an entirely new life. He’s still with that girl and…”

“That girl? Mercy?”

“Yeah, they seem really happy.”

“She’s using him to piss her father off. That’s it. It’s all fake and for publicity.”

“What?” I gasp.

“Well, he hasn’t come right out and said it but that’s what I think. You’re probably right though, I don’t know that he’d listen to you anymore.”

“I’ve moved on and so has he.”

“How is that weird guy anyway?”

“He’s not weird.”

“Okay,” Daniel chuckles.

“Tate’s great. He introduced me to some people and I’m going to travel the world after I graduate next month.”

“Travel the world? For how long? You’re not coming home?”

“I don’t know, until my money runs out I guess. I’ll look for a job, of course, but I don’t have plans to return to Frostwood Falls. There’s nothing there for me anymore. Mom and Dad moved to Florida, remember?”

“Grams and I are here. I’m talking with Walt about buying his shop and…”

“What?” I gasp. “Daniel, that's amazing. You’re so good at what you do and you have a really good head for business.”

“I could use some help with the marketing when I take the plunge into being a business owner.”

“Pro bono, of course,” I giggle.

“Of course, I don’t like that you’re not coming home.”

“I will see you soon. You’re coming for my graduation, right?”

“Absolutely. We’ll be there.”

Daniel and I hang up the phone a few minutes later. I reach into my desk drawer and pull out Ethan’s high school hockey jersey.

I should have gotten rid of this thing a long time ago, but I still haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.

I touch it. I feel this unexplainable energy filling my hands when I do. I inhale and exhale.

Please be okay, Ethan. Please get your shit together and don’t ruin your career.

I let go of the jersey and shut the drawer.

Two years later and I still feel this undeniable chemistry and connection with Ethan Anderson. Maybe that’s normal with your first love. It doesn’t matter though because both of us have moved on from that silly high school romance.

It’s better this way.

You’ve heard his interviews, the podcasts he’s been on and that man is not the same Ethan Anderson that you fell in love with.

This new Ethan is cocky, entitled, the spoiled rotten heir that you never thought he was but so clearly is.

He’s an arrogant, wild child. A bad boy athlete who can do no wrong even though he’s constantly making horrible choices.

I can only hope he realizes he’s spiraling out of control before it’s too late.