The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

two

Hainsey

I sprint so fast to Lost Lake I can't catch my breath. After a few attempts, I lean forward over the railing of the dock and enjoy the pains in my chest because they're a temporary distraction.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my face toward the setting sun. The simple actions make it easier to pretend I'm somewhere else, like a deserted island in the Caribbean, and not a tourist attraction in the Pacific Ranges of the Coast Mountains.

I stand there, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the lake as it dries my sweat-drenched face. When the images of my alternate life – one I tend to imagine even though it's a useless waste of my time – are crowded by reality, I give up. All my plans were thrown into the shithole when my dad left my mom and I behind for another woman.

The very thought makes me want to laugh. Maybe Ems and I aren't that different – we both know what it's like to have a family torn apart because some stupid fuck-up we have the disgrace of calling a parent can't control their sexual urges.

And, just like that, with the very thought of her name, the questions begin to invade my mind like an army of ants. Why is she here? What does she want? Did she come back for me?

It took me a few seconds for my brain to confirm that it was actually her that dropped the plate of spaghetti in the middle of Mrs. Brantford's kitchen. That it was actually Emyln Juliette Walker standing in front of me and not a hallucination. Along with the confirmation, old feelings began to stir. My heart did this annoying punch against my rib cage, like it's been hibernating since the day she left.

And I fucking hate it.

I hate that she still has the capability of making adrenaline flood my bloodstream and making me want to show my emotions. Hate the way my body contradicts my thoughts and reacts at the sight of her, like I've been struck by lightning.

There was an impulse to throw myself at her, but I wasn't sure if it was to hug and kiss her or to shove her and yell until she knew how badly she hurt me. After five years of never attempting to contact me, she thinks she can just walk into my life like nothing happened? Yeah, whatever.

But I still can't stop myself from comparing to the Ems – I mean Emyln. Shit. I really gotta stop calling her that – I remember from before to the one I saw today. This new old Emyln looks even more beautiful than I remember. So beautiful that I almost didn't recognize her. In my head and to my utter dismay, I start listing all the other tiny, insignificant details about her: how long her brown hair has gotten, her big, muddy-green eyes, the way the left side of her mouth is always quirked up into a subtle smirk. She's definitely grown up since the last time I saw her. That body...damn. I picture her perfect heart-shaped face and the small scar across the bridge of her nose – the one I gave her by accident when we played hockey together.

I smile at the memory. Ems – Emyln was always fierce on the ice. Whenever she had the puck, you didn't want to mess with her. She was the only girl that ever had the guts to join the team, and I think every guy, including myself, admired her for that. She definitely proved she had a place on the team too. The day she got the scar was when we were doing a drill for one-on-one defensive plays. I, unfortunately, had to go up against her. Damn, could that girl skate circles around me. Which is why I tried everything to get the puck in the net. I never meant for my slap-shot to be off and whack her in the face. 

I don't know how many times I apologized for causing her to get stitches. We were eleven at the time, so all it took to gain her forgiveness was a strawberry cheesecake milkshake from the Shake Shack next to her mom's mountain bike rental shop.

But with the memories comes a sharp stab of pain in my heart.

What's the point of reminiscing? I ask myself. All it's going to do is hurt you. She left.

I glance away from the scenic view of the lake and mountains, down at the wood of the dock, grinding my teeth as I reprimand myself for allowing thoughts of her to protrude my brain. What the two of us had...that was a long time ago. Things have changed. I've changed. I'm definitely not the same old Hainsey that Emyln used to know.

After she left Whistler, things at home turned to shit. Shit that happened between my parents, yet I still got dragged into the middle of it all because I'm their kid. Nothing that happened between my parents was my fault – it's never the kid's fault. Yet here I am, still trying to clean up the mess. My dad has gone AWOL with another woman that's ten years younger than him. And when Mom found out, she couldn't handle the heartbreak, relapsing on heroin. But you know what I hate most? Is that I can understand why Ems and Rosa left with their dad. If Mom had been strong enough to get up and walk away from what Dad did, then I would have gone with her too.

But that didn't happen. I was left with no one, minus Val, to confide in while I witnessed the late-night fights and the horrible words that were exchanged between my parents. Emyln, my best friend, my linemate, my girlfriend, and the first girl I ever kissed left me behind when I needed her most. It was excruciating.

My thoughts betray me again, and I think back to the run-in from earlier. Emyln was watching me like she used to watch her opponents while playing hockey. The same way she watched them when she was trying to figure out their play.

Something tells me she's here to gain redemption.

Or maybe she's just missed her hometown.

I don't know what Emyln Walker is doing back in Whistler after all these years, but I do know that I'm not going to let her ruin my life for a second time.