In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

ONE

"I think living with your brother has been good for you, but maybe you need some space to explore your own intimacy," Dr. Jensen says, adjusting her glasses like she's about to drop some life-changing wisdom.

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. She's got a point, though. It's been a year since Hunter and I called it quits, and honestly, I've been stuck. Relying on Cedric, my NHL-star brother, for everything? Yeah, that's been cute, but it's also wearing us both down. I mean, I'm 24, not 16. I should be doing my own thing, not couch-surfing at my brother's swanky apartment like some freeloader.

I still remember the day Hunter took me to that stupid field of flowers. Nadia had insisted on doing my nails that morning, and we went shopping for this over-the-top white dress, like I was auditioning for The Bachelor or something. Felt way too obvious in hindsight. Like, red flags waving in my face, obvious. But I was too nervous to see it. I knew deep down I wasn't ready for any of it—especially not getting engaged.

I met Hunter at some fancy-ass awards gala in L.A. I was doing my interior design thing back then, sprucing up sets for short films, and the director invited me to network. Instead, I walked out with a boyfriend. Hunter was a Dodgers star, and, honestly, at first, it was exciting as hell. I mean, I knew the deal with athletes—their schedules suck, but it wasn't new to me. Cedric's schedule was just as insane.

What killed us was the age gap. He was 30, I was 22, and he was ready for a life I didn't even know if I wanted. Deep down, I loved the guy, but damn, we fought. Over everything. The color of the kitchen tiles, what to watch on Netflix. You name it, we fought about it. When he proposed, I said yes, but by the next month, I had a ring and a decision to make: be miserable or bounce. So, we sold the house and that was it. No contact, no awkward "we can still be friends" bullshit. I couldn't see myself as Mrs. Hunter f***ing Evans, ya know?

Cedric swooped in like the overprotective brother he is, told me to pack my stuff and move to New York. "New city, new start," he said. He's been in the NHL forever, playing for the Rangers, and honestly, it's kinda nice to be around him—except I'm starting to feel like I'm suffocating in his shadow.

People knew me as his sister and Hunter's ex-fiancée. That combo got me some attention—more than I wanted, honestly. But it also got me some decent gigs. I love being creative, but I haven't snagged any big contracts yet. It's cool, though. I'm just getting started.

Dr. Jensen wraps up our session. "I'm glad to see you're making progress, Morgan. Keep it up." I nod and say thanks, heading out into the cold, biting air of mid-November in New York.

I zip up my jacket tight, my breath fogging up in front of me as I hustle to the restaurant near my therapist's office. My boots click-clack on the pavement, and by the time I push through the doors, I'm practically frozen solid.

Olivia, my neighbor, is working tonight. She's behind the bar, and as soon as I walk in, she shoots me a grin. "It's brutal out there tonight, huh?"

"Understatement of the year," I mutter, slinging my coat over a chair. Olivia hands me a glass of wine without me even asking. She knows me too well. "What's the score?" I ask, pointing at the TV over the bar. The place is buzzing with noise. Cheers, groans, the whole deal.

"3-2 Devils. You know how this goes," she says, smirking.

My eyes flick to the screen just in time to see Cedric's name flash across. "Damn, he scored twice? Show off," I snort.

Robert, a regular, pipes up next to me. "Kid's on fire tonight. Could've had a hat trick, though."

I laugh, taking a sip of wine. "Don't count him out yet, there's still a period left."