Chasing the puck

Chapter Eleven

The café was unusually quiet as Sarah stepped inside, the familiar aroma of coffee offering little comfort today. She spotted Tyler in the back corner, his posture slouched and his face half-hidden behind the cup of coffee he held tightly between his hands. He looked more exhausted than she had ever seen him, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced, his usual energy dimmed. Her heart clenched at the sight.

As she approached, Tyler lifted his head, his expression softening for a moment before the guarded look returned. Sarah slid into the seat across from him, feeling the tension in the air. It wasn’t just between them—it seemed to linger everywhere, in every conversation they avoided, in every touch that never quite happened.

“Hey,” Tyler said, his voice rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

“Hey,” she replied softly, her eyes searching his face. She could tell that something was weighing heavily on him, something more than the usual media storm that surrounded him these days. His shoulders were tense, and the lines on his forehead were deeper than they should be for someone his age.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the café—cups clinking, murmured conversations—felt distant, as though they were in a bubble of silence. Finally, Tyler broke the quiet, his eyes dropping to his coffee.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he began, his fingers tightening around the mug. “About us. About everything.”

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She knew where this conversation was heading, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

“And?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tyler sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, a gesture that had become all too familiar lately. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, his gaze finally meeting hers. His blue eyes, usually filled with life, were clouded with doubt. “The media, the pressure… it’s all too much right now. And I don’t want to drag you into it.”

Sarah felt a pang of frustration, though she knew he wasn’t saying it to push her away—at least not on purpose. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. “Tyler, I’m already in it,” she said gently, her heart aching with every word. “I’ve been in it since the beginning. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard it gets.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to their hands. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken fears, and Sarah could feel the walls he was keeping up between them. She withdrew her hand, trying to give him the space he seemed to need, but every moment of distance between them felt like a new fracture in their already fragile relationship.

The next few days passed in a blur of silence. Tyler hadn’t texted her since the café, and the emptiness of his absence felt louder than any argument they could have had. Sarah found herself glancing at her phone every few minutes, hoping for a message, a call, anything to break the tension that seemed to stretch between them. But each glance left her feeling more hollow than before.

One evening, she sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the TV screen. Her phone buzzed, and her heart leapt—only to sink again when she saw Summer’s name on the screen. With a sigh, Sarah answered.

“Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, though she knew Summer would hear the strain.

“What’s going on with you?” Summer asked, skipping the usual small talk. “You sound… off.”

Sarah let out a long breath, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s Tyler,” she admitted, her voice small. “He’s pulling away again. The media’s all over him, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know how to fix this.”