Chasing the puck

Chapter Six

Sarah stood outside the coffee shop, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She’d been standing there for the past ten minutes, staring at the glass door, too paralyzed to move. Tyler was inside. He had agreed to meet, but the closer she got to him, the more her nerves threatened to unravel. Every step toward the door felt heavier, like she was dragging the weight of her guilt with her.

With a deep breath, Sarah pushed open the door and stepped inside. The familiar warmth of the café wrapped around her, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. She spotted Tyler right away, sitting in a corner by the window, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared outside. He didn’t notice her approach, or if he did, he gave no sign of it.

Sarah felt a lump rise in her throat as she crossed the room and slid into the seat across from him. The tension between them was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Tyler didn’t look at her right away, his gaze still fixed on the world outside. For a moment, Sarah considered turning around and leaving—maybe it wasn’t too late to back out. But then, Tyler shifted, turning his head just enough to meet her eyes, and she knew there was no going back.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tyler’s eyes flicked over her, cool and distant. “Hey.”

The single word felt like a wall between them. Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched for something to say, but nothing came out. She had spent hours preparing for this conversation, rehearsing every possible apology, but now that she was sitting here, face to face with him, it all seemed woefully inadequate.

The silence stretched, suffocating in its weight. Tyler leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, the tension in his posture unmistakable. His eyes were hard, but there was something else there, something beneath the anger—a weariness that made Sarah’s stomach twist painfully.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. Her voice trembled, and she hated how small she sounded. “I—I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I should have told you about the investigation, I should have been honest, but I didn’t know how.”

Tyler’s eyes darkened, and for the first time since she’d sat down, his gaze fully locked onto hers. “You thought you could hide it forever?”

His voice was sharp, cutting through her like a blade. Sarah winced, her chest tightening. “No, I knew you’d find out. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you without ruining everything.”

“Well, you ruined it anyway,” he said bitterly.

Sarah bit down on her lip, the weight of his words sinking in. “I know,” she whispered. “I know I did.”

For a moment, Tyler’s expression softened, but then it was gone, replaced by the same cold distance he’d had when she first walked in. He leaned back, putting more space between them, as if even being physically close to her was too much to bear.

“I was just doing my job,” Sarah continued, her voice barely audible. “But I let it get personal, and I—”

“Of course it got personal,” Tyler interrupted, his voice rising. “We weren’t just strangers, Sarah. I let you in. I trusted you.”

The last sentence hit her like a punch to the gut. Trust. That was the core of it. She had broken something far more fragile than she’d realized, and now, looking at him, she wasn’t sure how to put it back together. Or if it was even possible.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “And I’m so sorry.”

Tyler stared at her, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the table. He didn’t respond right away, and Sarah felt the silence pressing down on her like a weight. She had hurt him in ways she couldn’t take back, and now she was afraid that this might be the end of whatever had started between them.