Chasing the puck

Chapter Twelve

The message from Tyler was still glowing on Sarah’s phone screen the next morning, but instead of relief, a tight knot of anxiety twisted in her chest. She hadn’t slept much, tossing and turning as her mind raced through a thousand scenarios of how their meeting would go. Her thumb hovered over the screen, reading the words again: “Can we meet tomorrow? We need to talk.”

What did he mean by that? Was this going to be the moment they finally put everything on the table, cleared the air, and figured out where they stood? Or was it going to be the end—the moment he decided he couldn’t do this anymore?

With a sigh, Sarah forced herself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. She barely recognized the girl staring back at her in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, her hair a mess, and there was a dull ache in her chest that refused to go away. As she splashed cold water on her face, she tried to calm the fluttering of nerves that seemed to take over every inch of her body.

She grabbed her phone and sent a quick text to Summer: “Meeting Tyler today. He said we need to talk. What if this is it?”

The reply came almost instantly: “Stay strong. You deserve to know where you stand. Don’t let him keep you in limbo.”

Sarah stared at the message, her heart pounding. She knew Summer was right. She couldn’t keep waiting around, hoping Tyler would magically be ready to let her in. She had to be firm, but the thought of walking away, of losing him, was like a weight pressing down on her chest.

Later that afternoon, Sarah found herself standing at the entrance of the park, her breath catching in her throat. The air was crisp, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the trees. She could hear the faint rustle of leaves beneath her feet as she took a step forward, her eyes scanning the park for Tyler.

She spotted him on a bench near the pond, his head down, hands clasped together tightly. He looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. Her heart ached at the sight. This was the same park where they’d shared so many happy memories, but today, the weight of everything unsaid hung between them, heavy and thick.

Tyler glanced up as she approached, offering a small, strained smile. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t spoken all day.

“Hey,” she replied, sitting beside him, leaving a few inches between them. The distance felt symbolic, a representation of the emotional space that had grown between them over the past few weeks.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the park—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the soft ripple of the pond—felt muted, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them and the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Finally, Tyler broke the silence with a deep sigh, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “About us. About everything.”

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat tight. “And?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to keep it steady.

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking slightly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his gaze finally meeting hers. His blue eyes were clouded with doubt, with fear. “But I’m terrified of getting hurt again. Every time I let you in, it feels like… like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like something’s going to go wrong.”

Sarah’s heart clenched painfully at his words. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. “Tyler, I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “But you have to let me in. You can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard.”