Jonah (Chicago Blaze 7)

“That would be amazing. I do get time off, I just never use it.”

Kai’s eyes shine as he says, “I think you’re worth coming out of my fabulously painted shell for. Even if we can’t talk all the time, this isn’t the end of us. You’re my best friend no matter where in the world you are and no matter where in the world I am.”

“You’re killing me. Between you and Jonah, I’ve cried a river.”

“You want me to go comfort him?” he asks. “Because I could totally do that. I could stroke his hair and rub some oil on his abs, maybe—”

“No.” I laugh, looking down at my phone at a notification that my Uber just arrived. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

“You need to send me an address where I can send you a decent set of luggage,” he says firmly as he gestures at my pile of worn, mismatched bags. “That shit will just not do.”

I hug him again. “I love you. Be happy.”

“Love you, too. Be safe.”

He helps me carry the bags out, and after a couple trips to the car, we embrace one more time on his front steps.

“Just remember, I’m loaded,” Kai says, stepping back and taking both of my hands. “So if you ever decide to quit your job and move in with me, I’ve got you covered. I’ll take you in as a partner on my channels.”

“No, Kai, I could never.”

“Yes, you could. Think about it, okay?”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“When your sad, remember that noods and Gaga are always the answer.”

“I will,” I promise.

“Bye for now, love. I’m going to start planning our trip as soon as I get back inside.”

“I can’t wait.”

I wipe away a tear, hug him again, and slide on my dark sunglasses. Once I start walking toward the car, I don’t look back. Apparently Kai gestures to my Uber driver to roll down the back seat window, though, because it powers down and Kai calls out to me.

“Don’t forget to moisturize!” He blows me a kiss. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” I put a hand up to wave, smiling through my tears.

And then the car drives away, and I leave the two people who mean most to me in the world.Chapter Twenty-FourJonah

Three Weeks Later

Another puck slides past me into the net, and like the others, I have a hard time giving a shit about it.

It’s December 23, and this is our last practice before our holiday break. We were one of the lucky teams that didn’t end up being scheduled to play on Christmas. No one’s heart really seems to be in it though; even our coaches are checking their watches, eager to get out of here.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Knox growls at someone.

Or maybe everyone. He’s in a piss poor mood after having a prank played on him by Vic earlier. When Knox reached into a cooler for a water bottle, he instead came within about an inch of a real, coiled up ball python Vic put in the cooler.

Everyone got a laugh out of seeing brooding, burly Knox jump and yell when he saw the snake. Hell, even I enjoyed it, and I haven’t enjoyed much of anything since Rey left.

I’ve ordered Cuban food a couple times in the past three weeks just because it reminds me of her. I sit alone in my kitchen and eat it, looking at the empty chair on the other side of the table and wishing she was there.

I finally had the alone thing down. It took me a long time to get there, but I was okay with it. And then Rey came along with her big laugh and gorgeous smile and blew it all to shreds.

“You coming tonight?” Luca asks me as he skates nearby.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Luca and Abby are hosting a big holiday party for our whole team, as well as the staff and their families. The other single guys will either bring dates or hope a few of Abby’s single friends are there. But me, I’ll just be the melancholy, recently dumped guy nursing a beer in the corner.

There’s no way the guys will let me out of going, though. If I try to skip out, someone will show up at my apartment to drag me there, so I might as well just go.

As far as everyone knows, Rey ended things with me and moved away. I didn’t even bother to pretend it was a mutual parting, because at least this way people will leave me the fuck alone and not ask so many questions.

It’s enough to have to deal with the photographers still stalking me. The headlines add salt to my still open wound, all some variation of Jonah West heartbroken again.

Pretty much. But damn, it would be nice to not have photos of my sorry ass looking pissed off and forlorn all over the internet. My mom calls just about every day to see how I am, and she doesn’t believe me when I tell her I’m okay.