Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said with a breath of a laugh, tucking her hair behind one ear as her gaze fell to our feet.
“Why not?”
At that, she sucked her teeth, her gaze lifting right back to mine to level me with a glare that told me she saw right through me pretending there wasn’t a single problem with the two of us spending a day together.
“What?” I feigned innocence, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’re married, remember?” I said mockingly, a knowing smile on my lips. “And I’m an old geezer who barely leaves the rink. What trouble could we possibly get into?”
Her brow ticked up like she knew the answer but wouldn’t dare say it out loud.
“Come on. Let me show you around your new home.”
Ariana’s thoughts were unreadable as her eyes flicked between mine, but I noted that tinge of pink in her cheeks, the way her hands twisted together in front of her lap.
“It’s one afternoon, Ari. As friends.”
Her expression told me she didn’t believe that.
I didn’t believe it either.
She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, clasped her hands at her waist. “Shane…”
I stepped just a little closer — not enough to touch her, but enough to feel the gravity of her. “There are no practices Sunday. The guys have the day off. Your husband is traveling. And I’m not asking for anything except… a day. A little sunlight. A break.”
Her eyes flicked down my chest, back up to my face. A tell. A warning.
Her silence stretched, and my heartbeat pounded so loud I could barely hear the conversations around us.
Say yes, I found myself pleading like an idiot.
Please. Just let me have one day.
Finally, quietly — like the word escaped before she could stop it — she whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeated, trying and failing not to grin like a lucky bastard who’d won the lottery. “Sunday.”
“Sunday.”
Wordlessly, I extended my hand for her phone. Ariana hesitated only a moment before retrieving it, and I typed my number in quickly, texting myself so I’d have her number, too, before I handed the phone back.
Nathan swept into the room then, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Tampa, I found my handshakes and smiles genuine as we chatted about the game. It didn’t matter that he had my hackles raised, that I still didn’t trust him — I couldn’t help but beam.
Because he was leaving.
And I was ready to make the most of his absence.
Never Love Again
Shane
2008
On the last Friday of May, 2008, the courthouse doors closed on the sound of the gavel and our whole world shifted.
Ariana sat stiff beside me through the hearing, her eyes glazed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. My grandparents had flown in to watch Georgie and help us figure out our next steps. But when Ari wasn’t around, they were just more voices of reason that I didn’t want to hear.
That courtroom felt more like a prison to me, like I was the criminal instead of Jay. Ariana and I were both barely hanging onto reality, but the judge’s words cut through the haze like sharp shards of ice:
“Guardianship extended, but provisional. Subject to review in six months.”
“Any instability—financial, academic, or residential—could affect your petition.”
“Remember, the child’s father retains standing.”
It was clinical and felt heartless, like we were just paperwork to the court when it was our whole existence being shaken.
When we walked out, Ariana clutched the file to her chest like it was Georgie himself. I could hear her whispering to herself, a frantic litany of plans. “I can have a two-bedroom apartment by August… the job on campus is already locked down… I’ve got affordable childcare through that program for when I’m in school… I can graduate early…” She nodded as if checking off boxes only she could see. “I’ll be steady, I’ll be fine. I can do this. I’ll make it work.”
Her mind was racing, and my heart was breaking, because I knew exactly where those thoughts went next — to me.
She was already calculating how she’d fit my games into the schedule, how often she could fly out to see me, how many weekends I could spend in Boston before camp got underway and then I wouldn’t have a break for months. She was trying to figure out how we could do it all without disrupting Georgie’s routine. Her lips moved with the math of it. Classes, job, childcare… trial prep… Shane.
I squeezed her hand as we pushed through the reporters. There were only two now, damp notepads plastered to their jackets, cameras too fogged to be much use — but even so, the flashbulbs made her flinch. I pulled her closer, tucking her under my arm as the rain came down harder, guiding her past the curb and across the street until we were free of them.