Chapter 1

Nine Years Later

W e’ve fought so many times now. All ending the same way. I tell her I’m sorry, she acts pissed for an hour or two, and then I say something to make her smile or laugh. She tries to fight it, but eventually … she ends up swatting at me, giggling. She’ll always grow serious after and tell me we need to do better from here on out.

Communication isn’t my strongest trait though.

What did she expect when she married me? I grew up watching my father beat the shit out of my mother. And when I turned six, I got to start getting my ass kicked too.

No matter what though, Paige and I always make up. We never follow through with the empty threats and venomous words that spew from our lips in the heat of the moment. We always end up in bed together too. And as her fingernails dig into my back and I pound her into the mattress, all the other shit melts away. For a while, it seems like we might be all right.

The way she’s looking at me now, I know, this time, it’s different. There’s no warmth left toward me. Her expression is cold. When I reach out to touch her—maybe to tuck her hair behind her ear and bring her closer—she pulls away and takes a few steps back.

“Don’t,” she says in a hiss.

Leaning against the counter, I put my hands on the granite, ready to challenge her. “Come here.” I say the words lazily because they’ve worked so many times before.

She breathes out a bitter laugh, not the cute giggle I love to hear coming from her lips. Instead, it’s a sharp, angry sound. “You don’t get it.” She shakes her head. “You really, really don’t get it, Kolt.”

I’ve seen her mad, sure. Hell, she’s called me every name in the book and then some. The tone of her voice now though is different. It’s … indifferent. Her eyes are dark and angry. She’s looking at me like she fucking hates me. But how can that be the case?

We’ve been together since high school. She was the rich, privileged girl who, deep down, hated her life. I was the kid from the broken home that no one trusted to have around. One day, I found her walking at night, and I picked her up. For years, I had watched her from afar, admiring how beautiful she was. But that night, something shifted. Within a few weeks out of high school, we tied the knot. There’s no way she hates me.

“You’re pissed. I get that.” I dip my chin lower, attempting to meet her gaze with mine, but she looks away. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I should have been home hours ago. I just got carried away with the guys.”

“That seems to be a reoccurring thing lately, Kolt,” she snarls. “Because for the past few months, you’re always just getting carried away with the guys!” she snaps, her voice almost a roar. “I cannot sit here every other night of my life and wonder when—or even if—you’re coming home. Every time my phone rings, I think someone is going to tell me you’ve wrapped your truck around a fucking telephone pole!”

“I don’t drive when I’m drunk, P—you know that,” I say quickly. “I’m not that dumb.”

Finally, her eyes cut to mine. Big tears well in her brown eyes, and her lip trembles. Even through the sadness, her body is wrecked with anger.

“I moved to Maine for you. I’ve given you warning after warning, and it’s always a joke.” She pounds her fist to her chest. “I am a joke to you, Kolt.”

“Stop,” I say lightly, trying to de-escalate the situation because I know I’ve pushed her too fucking far. “Come here. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“No.” She inhales sharply, just before she says the words I never thought I’d hear come from her pretty lips. “I want a divorce, Kolt. I’ve had enough.”

Finally, I realize she’s not fucking around. Just like I thought, this is different from other fights. Way fucking different.

She takes a step closer, looking at me as her right hand moves to her left. I don’t have to look down to know she’s taking off her ring.

Pulling it off, she opens my hand and puts the ring in the middle of my palm before closing my fingers around it.

“I love you more than I have loved or will ever love anyone else, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

She steps around me, and I turn around just as she gets to the door.

“Your dad was right, huh?” I call out. “On the night before our wedding, he promised you’d leave my ass one day. Guess he wasn’t kidding.” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “That useless fuck will be happy to see you walk back through the door.”

Turning quickly, she marches toward me, her nostrils flaring. “Fuck you, Kolt.”

“I wish you would,” I utter, looking at her lips. “I wish you fucking would. That way, we could forget about all of this nonsense you’re talking about.”

I grab her left hand, trying to force the ring onto her finger, and she yanks it away from me.

“No!” she screams, snarling at me. “You know, you aren’t the only one who’s hurting, Kolt. And yet you’ve refused to let me in or to even comfort me. That’s because you are the most selfish man I’ve ever known, Kolt Kolburne. One day, you’re going to look back on this night, and you’re going to wish you had treated our relationship differently.” Tears stream down her face, and she stares up at me with pure hatred. “You’re going to regret not giving a fuck about us. And when you do, I’ll be long gone.”

“You’ll be long gone and onto a man who was born with a silver spoon in his fucking mouth and belongs to the same country club your fuckface dad does,” I growl. “That’s what you mean.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she says in a weak croak before shaking her head.

She heads toward the door and pauses for a second before pulling it open and walking out, letting it slam shut.

For a moment, I simply stare at the door, wondering if she’s going to come to her senses and run back in. Who the fuck am I kidding? Even I’m not that delusional.

“FUCK!” I roar, taking the ring and throwing it against the wall. It’s not enough to numb the stabbing pain buried in my soul though, and soon, I’m pounding my fist into the wall. Blow after blow until my knuckles are dripping with blood and stinging from cuts.

The vows we exchanged clearly meant nothing. But why would I expect her to stay when all I’ve done for months is basically walk her to the door?

My wife is gone. Without her, there is no me. Just a fucking shell of a man with a diamond ring and a big, empty house.

For months, I’ve wanted her to go. Because deep down, I know I can never give her what she wants.

When I collapse onto the couch, my mind travels back to the day everything changed.

The day that ruined my life.

“We’ll be in touch with your results, but, per usual, I’m not anticipating anything to come back,” Dr. Clayton said. “Unless there’s anything else you’re concerned about … you’re good to go.”

The entire morning, I had debated on if I was going to bring something up to him or not. On one hand, I knew I needed to because I wanted reassurance that it wasn’t my fault that Paige wasn’t pregnant yet. On the other hand … what if it was my fault? I knew I’d feel so fucking guilty.

Month after month, I had watched that woman take test after test. Each time, her light was a little dimmer. We had been trying to have a baby for over a year, and to be honest, in the past six months, sex was no longer about being connected to each other, but simply trying for that baby we both wanted so badly.

If she had found out that she could never have kids, I’d still want to spend my life with her. That was the truth. But I didn’t want to be the one to take it from her if I was the problem. So, I needed to find out.

I cleared my throat nervously. “Uh, so my wife and I … we’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while now. And I just …”

“Want to make sure everything’s good on your end?” he said, giving me a reassuring smile. “We can do a test to check everything out. That’s no big deal.”

He pushed back on his stool, wheeling backward until he was over by the cupboards and sink. Standing, he opened the drawer and took out a cup before walking toward me and handing it over.

“I trust you know what to do?”

Swallowing thickly, I nodded and took it. “I guess so, Doc.”

Slapping my shoulder lightly, he grinned. “All righty, son. Just leave the cup on the counter when you’re done, and I’ll be in touch with the results.”

Once he left, I looked down at the cup and groaned. I would much rather go home and pour my seed into my wife’s tight pussy than this sterile fucking plastic cup. After unscrewing the top, I unbuttoned my jeans and brought my cock into my hand. As I stroked myself, I pictured my wife on her knees, greedily sucking my dick the way she loved to do. Whenever she did, she’d be soaking wet because she loved it so much. She was a dirty girl, and I loved that.

It had been months since she had sucked my cock. And the same since she’d let me eat her pussy.

Getting pregnant had overtaken our lives, and I was ready to find answers.

I just didn’t realize that when the doctor called a few days later, I’d learn I was the problem after all. And rather than face a difficult conversation with my wife … I pushed her away.

It’s too late for a do-over. Even if it weren’t, I did what I had to do to give her the life she deserves. I can’t give her what she wants, so what’s the point of dragging it out?

Let’s be honest though; I was cruel, and I said things about her father I didn’t mean. Sure, her dad does enjoy the country club. He comes from money, and he enjoys that, but her father is a good man. Hell, he had taken me and my brother in when we needed it most. And, yeah, he did show up the night before we got married and lost his shit and said unspeakable things. But what had I expected? It had been two weeks after our high school graduation, and we’d dropped the bomb on them the night before we were going to elope—alone. If I had a daughter who pulled that shit, I’d be mad too.

But I had to do what it took to force her to leave. Which meant I had to be callous. I needed to say things that would cut her deep. And her family is the most important thing to her. I swung for the fences, and now, just like I’d planned … she’s gone.

I had to make her hate me. And when she looked at me as she walked out, it was clear I had accomplished that. And it really fucking hurt.

Paige

Tears blur my vision, making it hard to see as I creep down the driveway—away from my favorite place and human.

I wanted Kolt to chase me. I suppose in some messed-up way, I assumed he would. We’d been together since we were seventeen years old. I thought there was no way he’d just … let me drive away.

Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing in this very moment, and he’s not in my rearview or pounding his palm against my bumper.

I’m almost to the gate, and I just keep thinking that he’ll stop me before I reach it. Though as I roll closer to it, the gate slowly opens, proving me wrong.

Things between us right now might seem like a mess. But is it really so bad to want a fairy tale? Does it make me pathetic to want to be chased? Maybe. But Cinderella ran away so fast that she lost a damn shoe. And then Prince Charming was out there, making the entire kingdom hunt for her.

Yet here I am, not even being chased on foot.

For months, he’s been pulling away from me. Slow at first. But then, with each day, more and more, I’ve been losing him. He didn’t hold me the same or talk to me like he used to. Hell, even the way he’d always looked at me changed. Kolt could be touching me, and yet … it felt like he was miles away.

I don’t know what happened, but when my mind spirals—the way it is right now—I go back to the same answer.

Babies.

Kolt wants babies, and we’ve tried for two years with no luck. That shouldn’t surprise me though. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize periods shouldn’t hurt as badly as mine do each month. Periods are supposed to be crappy, yeah, but they aren’t meant to keep someone in bed for two days in pure agony.

Maybe he blames me for not giving him the family he wants, and I guess he has a right to because it probably is my fault. But then I debate the other side of it. The side where the thought of getting pregnant has consumed me for so long. Having a baby of my own somehow took over every part of my mind, body, and soul, becoming all I could think about, and I’m sure Kolt could feel it. How would he not?

Even if either of those reasons is the truth for why he’s gradually been pushing me away, that doesn’t excuse his actions over the past few months. The partying, the drinking, and the staying out all hours of the night without checking in. Or the times when he finally does come home, only to act like I’m a nagging bitch for demanding answers.

That’s not Kolt. And that’s not us. At least, it never was.

When he stayed out partying tonight and came home, reeking of liquor, pretending like everything was fine … I told him I wanted a divorce. All night, I had thought about it and let it simmer. And even after giving him weeks of warning, I still wasn’t sure if I’d have the strength to actually say it when push came to shove. I had sat in the living room for hours, thinking about it, but like past times, I’d figured I’d chicken out once I came face-to-face with the man who could bring me to my knees. Literally. Only that wasn’t what happened at all. Instead … seeing him only pissed me off more. I was looking at him, and yet it didn’t feel like I was staring at my husband.

He no longer felt like Kolt, the man I knew better than I knew myself. My best friend. My soulmate. My purpose and the person who had always been my better half. Instead, I got a man who was talking shit about my father—who has shown Kolt nothing but support since he was seventeen years old. The foul words coming from his mouth were things I’d never thought my husband would say about my family.

He was like a stranger. One I didn’t even want to take the time to know.

As I pull out of our driveway, a stabbing sensation shoots through my heart when I don’t see him, and I wipe my eyes, realizing he really is letting me go without a fight.

Divorce was never a thought that crossed my mind when Kolt and I eloped right out of high school. He was my forever, and that was all there was to it. And now, the thought of letting go of everything that has made up my life rips my soul apart.

Being married to a professional hockey player has its challenges. But the New England Bay Sharks are just as much my family as they are Kolt’s—only now, of course, I’m losing them. He’s a true Shark. I’m just … the wife.

Poppy James, the wife of one of his teammates, has easily become one of my best friends in the time our husbands have played together, as have so many of his teammates’ girlfriends and sisters.

All of them I’m choosing to leave behind. Because as much as I love my husband … I don’t deserve this.

I used to put my nose up at the bitter woman who shook her head at the young lovers because she herself had once gotten married, only to find out the man was not who he’d promised himself to be.

But now … I am one of those women.

And Kolt Kolburne is too lost for me to find right now. The guilt I feel about that is all-consuming. I never thought I’d be the girl to actually put my own oxygen mask on before helping the person next to me. I know that’s what they always tell you to do, but I just thought, deep down, I’d be noble. I believed I’d always put my husband first. Or our marriage above all. But maybe in a way, I am. Because it seems as though that’s what he wants is for me to just let go. Whatever great love we had … well, I think it’s gone.

So, I’m setting him free. After all, it seems as though that’s what he wants.