Rookie (Seattle Sharks 4)

If my brain was dead-set on transporting me back in time, I figured it’d be better to do it drunk.

I didn’t have anywhere else to be tonight anyway.

Scooping my re-filled glass off the counter, I kicked off my heels and padded barefoot over to the lone couch I had in the living space. I sank down on it with a heavy sigh.

Ten years.

I thought I’d grown.

Lived.

Experienced enough that he wouldn’t have this effect on me.

Stupid, stupid woman.

Bentley had claimed my heart when I was young, and no amount of time could erase him from my soul.

But now my heart was ripped open again, bleeding and begging.

For what, I wasn’t sure.

Whatever it was, I had to suck it up.

This job . . . I needed it on a level I’d never needed anything before.

I couldn’t let Bentley’s presence rob me of it.

He’d moved on long ago.

The media coverage on his career had told me as much.

I couldn’t let this ache in my heart stop me from owning what I’d earned—which was the contract I needed to save me.

“Have you packed yet?” I asked, staring at Bentley like he was a stranger even though he was anything but. We’d known each other since grade school. He’d been my best friend until our love had turned into something more.

Something deeper.

And now . . . he was leaving.

“Come with me,” he said, his hand on the tree—our tree. The place where we came to be alone.

To explore each other.

To tease and touch and love.

“What?” I gasped, eyes flying wide. My heart breaking because I knew I couldn’t. “I can’t.”

He stepped closer, his fingers in my hair.

“Sure you can,” he said, that smile so lazy and open and free.

The Bentley I’d always loved.

Confident and certain and full of hope.

Chasing his dreams with a ferocity that matched his strength.

“We can get a little apartment with a king size bed,” he continued. “I’ll stock the fridge with those green teas you love so much, and you can come to the games and—”

“I can’t,” I snapped.

The picture he painted was so damn perfect, I hated that I couldn’t have it. The thought alone tore my insides.

I wasn’t angry with him.

I was mad at myself.

For not telling him.

I’d never kept a secret from him in my life.

But this one . . . he’d stay if he knew.

He’d want to help me.

Be there for me.

He’d give up his future in a snap—that much I knew.

“Why?”

“You know why,” I said, trying to sell the lie. “I have to go to college. My parents—”

“There are colleges everywhere. How do you think I got my scholarship? I’ll be playing for one.”

“And I’m so proud of you,” I said, my hand on his cheek.

He was so damn tall. I looked up, tears coating my eyes.

“Come with me, Chloe.” There was a desperation in his voice. One that broke my heart to pieces.

“You knew my plan. You knew I was always going to stay here.”

Believe me. Believe the lie. You deserve your dream life even though mine was ripped from me in a matter of seconds.

“I can’t help that the local school doesn’t have a hockey team, Chlo.”

“I know,” I said. “I know you can’t stay.”

“Come. With. Me.”

“I can’t.” The truth was on the tip of my tongue, begging to be freed. I hated lying to him. It left a horrible taste in my mouth and turned my stomach to ash.

“You mean you won’t.”

“That’s not fair.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Everything—since the news—was always about her.

Guilt gnawed at my insides.

I couldn’t blame this on her.

She needed me.

“I can’t be selfish,” I said, though I knew he wouldn’t understand what I meant.

He wrapped me in his arms, my wet cheeks against his chest.

“Oh, Chloe,” he said, his chin on my hair. “You could never be selfish.”

I wanted to be. Part of me wanted to go with him and never look back.

Part of me wanted to tell him the truth and allow him to shoulder some of the weight.

But he deserved better.

He was destined for bigger and better things.

“Fine. You can’t come with me, then we’ll talk every day,” he said, a new energy buzzing through him. “And I’ll visit as often as I can. We’ll make it work until you graduate college.” He held me back enough to meet my eyes.

His shoulders dropped.

He saw right through me.

“Won’t we?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re going to be doing so many amazing things, Bent. Meeting new people.” The words blistered my soul. “You can’t waste time checking in on me. Worrying about me.”

“It’s not a waste—”

“I love you, Bent.” I placed my palm on his chest. “But I’m stuck here. You’re not. And I won’t let you.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re free.”

“I don’t want to be free. I want to be with you. In whatever way I can.” He laid his hand over my fingers, holding it against his chest, the thump thump thump of his heart in sync with mine. “You feel that?” he asked. “What have I always told you?”

“That your heart beats for mine,” I said.

“Exactly.”

I wetted my lips, tasting the salt from my tears.

“I can’t, Bent. I can’t ask that of you.” I couldn’t breathe. “There is too much . . .” Every inch of my body stung. “I can’t . . . be there for you. In the way that you need me.”

I’d be thousands of miles away. How could I ask him to wait for me when I never knew if I’d be free?

“Chloe,” he said my name like a plea.

“Just go, Bent. Okay?” I stepped out of his embrace, unable to bear another second under his touch. It seared me, called to me, begged me to stop the words from my mouth. Pleaded with me to tell him the truth.

But there was no way.

He’d find a way to stay with me.

And he deserved better.

“You won’t even try.” The pain laced in his words sliced into me as he voiced what my heart kept screaming.

“You deserve the whole damn world, Bent. I’m just not the girl who can give it to you.”

“Chloe.” Bentley shook his head, that muscle in his jaw ticking as he held back tears.

Selfishly, I breeched the distance and crushed my lips on his.

Needing one last piece of him.

One for me to keep while he flew free.

He met my tongue, rubbing and dancing, sucking and teasing. A hunger like I’d never felt. Need swelled inside me, so tight and hot I thought it’d swallow me whole.

I jerked free, holding back a sob as I said, “Goodbye, Bentley.”

Turning my back on him, I didn’t once glance behind me as I fled to my car, knowing if I stayed there one second longer I’d lose my head and ruin him with the truth.

Fresh tears rolled down my face as I finished my whiskey.

We’d both grown up.

Gone on to do what we were born to do.

But he’d soared.

He’d caught the dream he always wanted—playing hockey at the NHL level.

And in some ways, I was still that seventeen-year old girl, her heart breaking because she had responsibilities that were greater than she knew how to handle.

Even now, ten years later, it sometimes felt like too much.

Bentley didn’t have a clue who I was anymore.

What I went t

hrough.