Chapter 3

I watch The Notebook for God knows how many times now. Even after all the previous times though, my lip quivers when Noah says the famous line—that it isn’t over between them.

That’s a man who truly waited for his woman.

It’s been two months since Kolt pushed me to the point of no return, and I was the idiot who assumed he’d chase me. Or at the very least, that he would show up a few days later and drop to his knees to apologize and beg me to come home.

He never did though. If he did, I probably wouldn’t be here, watching The Notebook like a loser on my parents’ couch.

This isn’t exactly how I pictured my life would be when I was twenty-seven. As cliché as it sounds, I thought Kolt and I would have a few kids by now and be doing things like dressing up for Halloween in those corny family costumes and decorating an obnoxiously large Christmas tree for the holidays, living in bliss. I’d be married to an NHL star, but at home … he’d just be my husband and my babies’ dad.

Life certainly steered off the course I had planned for myself—that’s for sure.

When Kolt and his little brother moved in with my family when Kolt was a junior in high school, I had the biggest crush on him. But he had that whole broody, angry-at-the-world, came-from-a-broken-home, and couldn’t-love-or-be-loved thing going on. And because of that, he wasn’t an easy man to get close to. Yet one night, I found myself walking home, and he gave me a ride. Somehow, it felt like something shifted between us, though I can’t explain how. We felt connected in some way after that.

Although that somehow connected us, he still went back to ignoring me to stay on my father’s good side, yet my heart would still explode when I felt his stare on me after I walked into a room or when we’d brush against each other in passing.

On the night of homecoming, when I found myself in a scary situation with my date … Kolt saved me. And from that day until the day I walked out the door, we were inseparable.

My whole life, I’ve watched people get divorced. Countless aunts, uncles, and cousins of mine. Heck, even my mom and dad had a close call years ago, but they worked it out. But I never thought that would be the fate of Kolt and me. But then again, does anyone actually enter into a marriage and think it’ll end in divorce? Doubtful.

Without him, it feels like there is no me. Because for ten years, my world revolved around that man. I didn’t know who I was if he wasn’t beside me. And now, I have to figure it out.

One of the first things I am going to figure out is why my reproductive organs hate me.

For years, doctors brushed it off like I was being dramatic and that it was part of a woman’s monthly cycle. But there’s a nagging inside my head, telling me that isn’t true. Before Kolt and I separated, I was scared to learn the truth because I didn’t want to be told straight up that my chances of having a baby were slim. Now, I want to know what is wrong with my body. Because watching the calendar and dreading that time of the month has been taxing on me for years and I’m ready to fight back.

Walking into the living room, my dad looks at the TV, and instantly, his shoulders tense, and his jaw tightens. “Another movie day, Paige?”

“Well … yeah.” I shrug. “It was a long week at work, and I want to relax.”

Blowing out a breath, he grabs the remote from the arm of the couch and holds it up to the TV before powering it off. He takes a seat in the recliner, leaning forward and clasping his palms together. I know I’m about to get a speech about life, and I mentally prepare myself to listen and remember my dad loves me, even though I wish he and my mother would let me grieve my marriage in peace, regardless if that means watching The Notebook too many times and eating ungodly amounts of junk food.

“Look, I know you work your ass off all week at the office. And Lord knows being a physical therapist is no easy feat. But you can’t just spend every single weekend or day off on the couch, watching depressing fucking movies.”

“ The Notebook is not depressing,” I toss back, knowing that’s a stretch because … it’s The Notebook —enough said. “It’s, like, one of the greatest love stories of all time.”

He gives me his are you serious right now look. “Your mother made me watch it, Paige. The woman has Alzheimer’s, and the man spends his days making her remember him. That’s depressing as shit.”

Relaxing back into the couch, I pull my throw blanket under my chin. “Agree to disagree.”

For a moment, his head hangs. And he’s silent before he looks up at me again. “Bruce is coming over to go over some things for the season, and he’s bringing Dexter with him.”

“And?” I deadpan, unsure of what Dexter being up my dad’s ass has to do with me.

His father is the assistant coach of the Mariners. But he and I have never been close.

He’s attractive, sure. But hanging out with random dudes wasn’t exactly on my to-do list when I was with Kolt. And now, it sounds even more terrible.

“He went through a divorce recently too. His wife left him last year. I told him you’d go grab a coffee with him to get out of the house.” He gives me a sharp look. “Might be good for you to talk to someone who has gone through something similar to you, Paige.”

Well, there it is.

I’m actually shocked because my father was so disappointed when I left Kolt. He never said it out loud, but it was obvious. My dad loves Kolt like a son, so I am shook that he wants me to go on a date with another dude.

“Well, first off, I haven’t gone through a divorce yet, Dad. So, I probably shouldn’t be looking for a new man. And let me think about it …” Then, I say sharply, “No. No thanks. I’m busy. Super busy.”

“It’s not like that with Dexter. I’m not telling you to go on a romantic date or some shit. All I want is for you to be around people your age. And like I said, he’s been through the same thing. Might be good for both of you.” He looks me up and down. “Also, you don’t look busy,” he says before standing. “He’ll be here in twenty-five minutes. I suggest you go get yourself ready. It’s not a date, Paige. I know you’re not ready for that. But for the love of all things, just go get a coffee with the kid. It would be good for both of you.”

“What’s in it for me?” I raise a brow, ready for him to bribe me like I’m five years old.

I’ve been bugging him for the same thing for weeks. Maybe he’ll finally let me get it if I go get a coffee with someone I don’t want to.

His eyes stare into mine, and when the corner of my mouth turns up because I know he’s about to cave.

“I’ll let you get the damn cat you’ve been pestering the shit out of me for,” he huffs out. “But it’d better not piss or shit in my fucking house, Paige.”

Quickly shooting up off the couch, I rush over and hug him. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! It won’t shit or piss in your house, I swear! I’ll litter-box train it. It’ll be fine!”

My whole life, I’ve wanted a cat. But when Kolt and I decided to start trying for a baby, I put getting one on hold because I assumed I’d get pregnant quickly, and adding a kitten to the mix would make things more stressful. And when I moved back home with my parents, my dad said no way in hell was I allowed to get a cat. The man has always claimed a strong dislike for cats—we’ll just have to see about that once I get one.

And now, here I am, twenty-seven years old, and I’m hugging my dad because he’s letting me get a cat. Life sure is strange.

I release him and rush away to head to my room, but his voice stops me.

“Wait a second. A litter box? The cat’s going to shit in a box inside my house?”

Not turning around, I shrug. “Well, it sure as hell isn’t going outside!” I take off toward the stairs again. “Be down soon! I wanna get this not a coffee date over with so I can go pick out my cat!”

When I pull up in front of my in-laws’ house, my palms are fucking sweating against the steering wheel, just like they did the entire five hours on the drive here.

Last night, with Logan, the truth came out—about everything. When he told me I had fucked up by not being honest with my wife, it all clicked just how bad I had made things.

He didn’t sugarcoat anything. When he told me I was an idiot for not telling Paige the truth about why I had been pushing her away and not giving her the choice to stay, I knew he was right.

I’ve known since she left that I’d never be whole without her. My head told me it was time to stop loving her. But my heart never got the fucking memo.

The noble thing to do would be to bow out and let her go. I’m damaged and fucked up. I had known that already, but me sabotaging my marriage only confirmed it more.

I shift the truck into park and kill the engine before slowly pushing the door open. My body is tense, and my mind feels like I’m on the fucking Gravitron at the local fair. Her father is the reason why I made it to the NHL—he’d taken me out of my broken home with no opportunities and welcomed me into his home and brought me onto his team.

For weeks after she left, he called me. And I ignored every one of his calls.

How the hell am I going to look him in the eye?

Once I’m out of the truck, for a minute, my feet are planted on the ground, almost like there’s fucking quicksand under my shoes, keeping me stuck here. I rub my hands together nervously, running my fingers over my wedding ring before forcing myself to walk toward the door.

I’m at the door when I hear laughter coming from inside. I’d know that laugh anywhere. It’s my wife’s. But the question is, who the fuck is making her laugh that hard? I always lived to do that—to bring that sweet sound out of her lips. I guess, selfishly, I assumed she hadn’t been laughing much these days since she’d left. I sure as fuck haven’t.

When I peer inside the window, my fists ball at my sides, and my jaw tightens.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath as I take in the sight of her talking to Dexter fucking Johnson. A guy who’s always been around as a family friend, but I never liked the way he looked at her a little too long.

My hand reaches for the door, but I stop myself, and for a moment, I just watch.

She laughs again, and her eyes squeeze together, crinkling at the sides the way I’ve always loved so much.

As much as it fucking hurts me to see—and even more to admit to myself—there’s no denying that she looks … happy.

Happier than she was with me right before she walked out the door.

For months before she left, she hadn’t laughed that hard. And that was all because every ounce of her was lost in trying for a baby. And in the end, it’s my fault she couldn’t have one. Even now, she probably thinks she was the problem when, all along, it was me.

Taking a few steps backward, I suck in a sharp breath, hoping it will help this burning sensation in my chest. I came here today to get her back. To tell her the truth about why I’d pushed her away, hoping and praying she’d come home with me after so we could figure everything out together.

I can’t continue to bring her down. Especially not when it looks like she’s doing perfectly fine now.

Taking off toward my truck, I climb in and slam the door. I turn the key, making it roar to life before quickly backing out of their driveway and tearing off down the road. Knowing damn well she’s better off without me.

She’s whole. I’m … fucking broken. I have been since I was a kid, and the only person who could ever make things better is clearly happier without me in her life.

I’m not a noble man. I fuck up everything I touch. I’m not doing that anymore. It’s time to let her go.

I roll my window down and drag my hand down my face, wiping tears away with my palm to clear my eyes. My mind wanders back to eleven years ago, and I wish so fucking badly I had a time machine to take me back. I don’t know what I’d do differently. I can’t say I regret her because I love her too much for that. But, fuck, I’ve never felt pain like this in my life.

“Come near her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” I pushed my arm harder into Brandon’s chest. I could see the fear in his eyes and feel his heart pounding nervously against my hand. I loved that I could fucking feel it. He should be scared. “You know what? Don’t even fucking look at her again.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Paige’s friends gathering around her as she cried.

A few minutes prior, I had seen Brandon lead her into the hallway. My gut told me to follow them. She might have come to homecoming with the guy, but he had given me weird vibes since the first time I’d met him. And when I went into the hallway and heard her yelling from a closet, I knew she was in trouble. And I was right because I’d found him trying to rip her dress off against her will.

I’d wanted to be her date more than anything. But how the hell would that have worked when her dad had moved me and my brother in as a charity case and I knew that was my only shot to ever be noticed on the ice enough to play college hockey? If Coach learned I wanted his baby girl, he’d surely send me right back to my shithole of a home on the other side of town.

Just when Brandon was gasping for air, I pulled my arm back, landing him in a crumpled-up pile at my feet before kicking him once. Not enough to send him to the hospital, but hard enough that he knew I wasn’t fucking around.

Taking a few strides toward Paige, I cupped her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

She nodded quickly, and her nostrils flared as she dragged in a shaky breath. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” I released her face and looked back at Brandon to see him still on the floor. Grabbing her hand in mine, I tipped my chin up toward my brother. “Make sure that motherfucker doesn’t bother another single girl.” I pause. “You know what? On second thought, make sure he finds the fucking exit and leaves the premises.”

He nodded in understanding, telling me we were on the same page. “You know I will.”

Looking down at Paige, I pulled her against me. “Let’s go.”

I couldn’t really understand it myself, but I had this need inside of me to protect her at all costs. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to know her that well and yet … I just wanted to keep her safe. And even more … I wanted her to feel safe too.

An hour later, she was in the passenger seat of my beat-up, barely running truck as we parked down by the beach. She wasn’t crying anymore, but it was written all over her face that she was still shaken.

In the time I’d lived with her family, this was only the second time she had been in my truck. The first was the night I’d picked her up when she was walking at night.

“I should have never let you go tonight with that prick,” I growled. “I fucking knew better. I could tell he was scum the first time I met him.”

“I think, in a way … I could tell too,” she whispered. “But then he seemed so nice. And no one else would ask me because”—she paused, growing bashful—“you know, my dad and all. Everyone is scared to get on his bad side. And as pathetic as this sounds, I wanted a first date.”

Her words came as no surprise to me. Everyone knew you stayed clear of Coach Hendrix’s daughter or else, and yet…Brandon somehow slithered his way to her. I wish it would have been me all along, but I couldn’t afford for him to sabotage my hockey career before it even got a chance to take off. So, besides giving her a ride home once, I avoided her. At least, until this particular night.

“Yeah, I was scared to get on his bad side too,” I said, thinking out loud. “And now, I wish I had just said fuck it and asked you anyway.”

“You wanted to ask me”—there was no mistaking the disbelief in her tone—“to homecoming?”

“Buttercup, I’ve wanted to do a lot of things that I can’t do. I wanted to do a lot of them the night I picked you up on the side of the road, but I had to contain myself. All because your old man gave me and my brother a hockey team to play for and a place to live.” I shrugged. “I guess I was scared to fuck it all up.”

“And now?” her voice barely croaked out.

I looked at her again, my eyes searching her face. “I don’t know. If I acted on whatever this is, I feel like … he’d lose his shit.”

She gave me the smallest smile, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight as she moved a little closer. “Who cares, Kolt Kolburne? You don’t seem like the type to back down from a challenge.”

“Usually, I’m not,” I said honestly. “Usually, I don’t give a fuck about repercussions.”

She paused, her smile growing wider. “Well then … shoot your shot, big guy. See what happens.”

Her words took me off guard, and I needed a few seconds to recover, but once I did, I leaned in. Cupping her cheek, I brushed her hair back from her face, and I kissed her so fucking hard. The night wasn’t picture-perfect, but I knew right then that I’d never want to be with another woman for as long as I lived.

She was it for me.

Snapping myself back to the present, I wipe my eyes again. This fucking hurts, maybe even worse than the day she left, and I think that’s because this time, I know it’s over.

Losing Paige means losing her family too. And even though I spoke ill of her dad, her family is like my own. The right thing to do would be to sign the divorce papers when they land in my mailbox. I know they are coming. It’s just a matter of when.

I should sign them, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to.

I might be okay with letting her go, but she’ll always be my wife.