My queasiness gets worse and worse as other players file into the room. I can feel O’Shea’s dark eyes boring into me, but my gaze stays glued to my boots. I’m in a state of panic, living out my very own Tell-Tale Heart, except instead of hearing a dead man’s heartbeat under the floorboards, I’m excruciatingly aware of the blood in my veins. The steady flow of it, surging, pulsing, tainted with the molly I took last night.

As my pulse drums in my ears, I draw in a shaky breath, exhale slowly, and make my way over to Coach Jensen.

“Coach…can I speak to you in private?” I mutter, and just like that, he gets the look. The one that tells me he knows exactly what I’m going to say, and that he’d rather slit his own wrists than hear me say it.

“Sure,” he answers after a long, strained beat.

He leads me to his office. We don’t sit. I don’t speak.

He waits, but I can’t bring myself to voice the confession. Christ. I’m so disgusted with myself right now. So fucking ashamed.

Coach sighs. “You’re gonna make me ask you, is that it? Fine, I’ll ask.” He pauses. “What’s going to happen when you piss in that cup, Dean?”

The shame builds inside me until I can practically taste it when I gulp.

“What are the results going to show?” he pushes, his expression unbearably resigned. “Marijuana? Cocaine?”

“MDMA,” I mumble.

He closes his eyes briefly. Then he opens them. “All right. Thanks for letting me know.”

I leave his office feeling like a man on death row.

Two days later, I get kicked off the team.

33

Allie

Three days after I storm out of Dean’s house insisting I’m done, I meet him at the Coffee Hut on campus. Every girl in the room turns to admire him when he walks through the door. I do too, because…God, he looks like the Dean I fell in love with. Green eyes dancing playfully as he orders a coffee at the counter, blond hair smoothed away from his chiseled face, cargo pants clinging to his perfect ass.

All I have to do is look at his face to know he hasn’t been drinking today. Maybe not for a few days, actually. Hannah told me last night that Dean failed a drug test and was kicked off the team. I can’t deny my heart broke when I heard that, because I know how important hockey is to him, but the news hadn’t surprised me, either. You can’t drink excessively and take drugs without facing the consequences. At the rate he was going, the partying was bound to catch up to him.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem upset when I raise the subject, which is the first thing we tackle after he slides into the seat across from me. He simply shrugs. “I had it coming.” With a pained expression, he adds, “But I didn’t come here to talk about the team. I wanted to apologize to you.”

I nod. It’s what I figured when I got his text invitation, but holy déjà vu because this is the second time in three months I’ve been in this position. Last time it was me and Sean. Sitting in this very coffeehouse, having this very same conversation. But this time, the ache in my heart is a million times worse, because I’m still in love with Dean. Hopelessly, desperately in love with him.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I fucked up.” His long, graceful fingers encircle his coffee cup. “I didn’t handle Beau’s death too well. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m handling it now, but hey, at least I’m sober.”

I nod again.

“I’m sorry I missed your play. And I’m so fucking sorry I put you in the position where you had to make excuses for me. With Coach Ellis and—” his voice cracks “—Dakota. I plan on apologizing to them too and begging their forgiveness. But I wanted to see you first.”

I know he had. He’s been calling and texting for three days, but I hadn’t agreed to meet him until now. My emotions were too raw.

Dean gulps his coffee. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with shame. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

My heart? God, my heart is ravaged right now. It feels like it just weathered a hurricane. Hurricane Dean. I still can’t erase Friday night from my mind. Standing on stage and looking into the crowd and not seeing Dean. Coming home to find him high as a kite.

Can I forgive him, though?

Fuck, of course I can. I don’t hold grudges. Life’s too short for that.

“Of course I can forgive you.” I don’t miss the spark of hope in his eyes, and it kills me to extinguish it. “But this isn’t about forgiveness.”

“What’s it about then?”

“You tell me. Did you ask me here to get back together?”

He nods slowly. His entire face softens. “I love you,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Pain spirals inside me. I don’t want to be apart from him either. But…I think I need to be.

“I…can’t be with you,” I whisper.

He makes an anguished sound.

“At least not right now.” I grip my foam coffee cup in both hands, desperately needing the warmth it’s radiating. “I’ve never been alone, Dean. Ever. It’s always been one relationship after the other with me. I’m not sure I even know how to be alone, and I think this might be a good time to figure it out. You said so yourself—you’re still dealing with your loss. You still have other people you need to make amends with. So while you’re dealing with your stuff, I can deal with mine.”

His jaw tightens. I expect him to argue. I wait for him to argue. Because this is Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis, the man who always gets what he wants. The man who pushes and pushes until he does. But he surprises me. “How long?” he asks gruffly.

I bite my lip. “I don’t know. A few weeks? A month? I don’t have a timeline. I just know I need to be on my own right now. No boyfriend. Just me.”

He looks sad. “Okay.”

I can see the questions in his eyes. Is this just a break or are we really over? Did I ruin this for us? Do you still love me? But he doesn’t voice them. He nods and murmurs, “Take as much time as you need, baby.”

*

Dean

I expected Allie to say one of two things—I’m done with you, Dean or I forgive you, Dean. I expected a breakup or a tearful reunion, not this gut-wrenching state of limbo.

It’s fine, though. Just a minor setback, right? If she needs to be alone right now, then I’ll leave her alone. But I was encouraged by the fact that she let me kiss her before we parted ways at the Coffee Hut. And when I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned into my touch and rubbed her cheek against my fingers.