Chasing the puck

Chapter Seven

Sarah stared at her phone, the empty screen mocking her indecision. Her finger hovered over Tyler’s contact, heart thudding painfully in her chest as she debated what to do next. It had been days since they’d last spoken at the park, and the silence was driving her crazy. She’d played their conversation over and over in her mind, hoping to find some hidden meaning in his words, but each time, she ended up in the same place—uncertain, anxious, and scared of losing him for good.

He said he needed time, but what if time was only widening the distance between them?

Sighing, Sarah dropped her phone on the couch beside her and leaned back, closing her eyes. The ache in her chest hadn’t gone away, and no matter how much she tried to distract herself with work, with conversations with Summer, it was always there—a constant reminder of how much she’d screwed things up.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. It was Summer.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Summer’s voice was warm, but Sarah could hear the concern beneath the casual tone.

“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted, rubbing her eyes. “I feel like I’m just… waiting. For something. For him. But I don’t know if it’s ever going to happen.”

“Well, you can’t sit around waiting forever,” Summer replied, ever the realist. “If you want him back, you’re going to have to fight for it. But not too hard. Give him space, but don’t give up either.”

Sarah knew Summer was right, but it didn’t make the uncertainty any easier to bear. “I just don’t know what to do. Every time I think about texting him, I freeze up. What if it pushes him further away?”

“He said he needed time, so give him that. But when the moment comes, don’t be afraid to fight for what you want, Sarah. You’ve got to show him you’re serious.”

Sarah nodded, even though Summer couldn’t see her. “I know. I just… I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“It will be,” Summer said firmly. “Just give it time.”

Tyler dragged his skate across the ice, his mind far from the game. Hockey was supposed to be his escape, the one thing that cleared his head, but lately, even the rink didn’t offer the same sense of freedom it used to. Every drill felt heavier, every shot less precise, his focus splintered by thoughts of Sarah.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she’d looked at him when she apologized, the regret in her eyes—it was seared into his mind, and no matter how many hours he spent on the ice, he couldn’t shake it. The anger that had once been so sharp, so all-consuming, had started to dull. Now, there was just confusion and the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as ready to walk away as he thought.

“You good, man?” Preston’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

Tyler forced a nod, though he knew Preston wasn’t buying it. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Preston didn’t push, but Tyler could feel his friend’s eyes on him as they skated back to the bench. He knew he wasn’t acting like himself—his usual banter with the guys had been replaced by silence, his focus elsewhere. It was only a matter of time before someone else brought it up.

But for now, Tyler was content to let it slide. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

Back at her apartment, Sarah sat hunched over her laptop, her mind barely focused on the article in front of her. She’d been avoiding work for days, and now the deadlines were catching up to her. But every time she tried to write, her thoughts drifted back to Tyler, to the weight of his silence. It was suffocating, and no matter how much she tried to focus on anything else, he was always there in the back of her mind.