LOGINEmily’s POV
My legs felt loose and heavy at the same time as I stumbled back toward the bar. The music pulsed louder in my ears, each beat slamming against my skull. Kara’s warning from moments ago still rang in my head, but I pushed it away. “Another one,” I told the bartender, slapping my hand on the sticky counter. Kara appeared beside me instantly, grabbing my elbow. “Emily, stop. You’ve had way too much already. You’re going to regret this so badly tomorrow.” “I need it,” I mumbled, grabbing the fresh cocktail. The glass felt slippery in my fingers. “Everything still hurts, Kara. Every time I close my eyes I see him kissing her. I just want it to stop. Her face softened with worry, but her grip stayed firm. “This isn’t the way. You’re not yourself right now.” I took a long gulp anyway. The sweet liquid slid down easily, but my stomach twisted in protest. The club lights blurred into streaks of blue and red. My head felt too heavy for my neck. Kara exhaled sharply, running a hand through her curls. “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling Julian. He can pick us up and take you home. Stay right here, Em. Don’t move. Promise me.” I nodded vaguely, the room tilting as I did. “Yeah… okay.” She hesitated, searching my face like she didn’t quite believe me, then pulled out her phone and headed toward the exit, weaving through the crowd. The moment she disappeared through the door, the loneliness hit me like a truck. I tried to steady myself against the bar, but the nausea came fast and vicious. My stomach rolled violently. I need to go to the restroom. I pushed off the bar and staggered forward, one hand pressed to my mouth. The floor felt like it was moving beneath me. People blurred past, laughing faces, dancing bodies, flashing lights. I bumped into someone’s shoulder, mumbled a weak “sorry,” and kept going. The glowing restroom sign at the back of the hallway seemed miles away. The nausea surged again, stronger this time. I was going to be sick. I turned a corner too fast and crashed hard into a solid wall of muscle. Strong hands caught my arms to keep me from falling. I looked up, blinking through blurry eyes, and my heart stuttered. Alex. “Emily? What the fu—” Before he could finish, my stomach rebelled completely. I doubled over and vomited all over the front of his expensive white shirt. The warm mess splattered across his chest and stomach. The smell hit me instantly, mixing with the club’s stale alcohol scent. Alex froze completely, hands still gripping my elbows. For a long, terrible second, neither of us moved. Then he let out a slow, shocked breath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” I whispered, voice cracking. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Of all the people in this club, it had to be him. Alex looked down at the disaster on his chest, jaw tight. Without a word, he released one of my arms and yanked the ruined shirt up and over his head in one smooth motion. The fabric hit the floor with a wet slap. He tossed it toward a nearby trash can like it personally offended him. He stood there shirtless under the dim hallway lights, revealing a perfectly sculpted hockey body wide shoulders, defined chest, ridges of abs that looked unreal. A faint trail of dark hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. He was all power and heat, and I suddenly felt smaller than ever. “What the hell is wrong with you, Emily?” he growled, voice low and rough. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, clearly pissed. “You’re trashed. Julian’s going to kill me if he finds out I’m even near you like this. Do you have any idea how bad this looks?” I tried to speak, but another wave of dizziness hit me. There was no mockery in his eyes. Just frustration mixed with something almost like concern. “I didn’t mean to,” I said weakly, tears slipping down my cheeks now. “Everything’s spinning and I… I saw Lucas today and he was kissing someone else and I just wanted to stop feeling it and now I ruined your shirt and I’m so stupid—” My voice broke completely. The humiliation, the heartbreak, the alcohol — it all crashed down at once. I looked up at him through wet lashes, my bottom lip trembling. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’re really messed up, aren’t you?” I nodded, another sob escaping. Without thinking, I stepped closer, drawn to the warmth radiating from his bare skin. He smelled like clean soap and faint cologne, even after what I’d done. I collapsed forward into his bare chest, my cheek pressing against the warm, solid muscle. His arms instinctively wrapped around me to keep me upright. I could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thumping against my ear. “Don’t let me go…” I whispered, voice barely audible. My fingers curled weakly into his side. “Please, Alex. Just… don’t let me go right now.” I closed my eyes and let myself lean into him completely, whispering again, softer this time. “Don’t let me go…”Emily’s POVAfter we had finished walking through every section of the gallery, stopping to admire each display and lingering longest in front of my own paintings, Mr. Pierre suddenly appeared beside us, looking more animated and excited than I had ever seen him.He carried a small sheet of paper in one hand, and there was a wide, knowing smile on his face as he stepped close enough to speak without drawing too much attention.“Em, Alex—wait just a moment, I have some incredible news for you,” he said, his voice full of surprise.“A buyer has just come forward, and he has made a very unusual request: he wants to purchase all of Emily’s work—every single painting on display here today.”My breath caught in my throat, and I stared at him, certain I must have misheard. Beside me, Alex’s arm tightened around my waist, his eyes widening in equal shock.“All of them?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “You mean every painting, not just one or two?”Pierre nodded vigorously, his s
Emily’s POV Finally, the day I had been waiting for arrived. After weeks of mixing colors, adjusting brushstrokes, and staying up late to finish every detail, it was time to go to the gallery and see my work properly displayed on the walls. It was also the day when the public would come to view them—and if I was lucky, some might even choose to buy one. Even so, I tried not to let my hopes run too high. This was my first real showing, and I knew better than to expect everything to go perfectly from the start. I stood in front of the full‑length mirror in my bedroom, smoothing the fabric of my dress and adjusting the necklace around my neck. My hands felt a little shaky, and my heart was beating faster than usual. No one from my family knew about this yet—not my parents, and certainly not Julian. Only Kara and Mrs. Anderson, the kind woman who had rented me my first studio space, were aware of what I was doing. Both had sent messages early that morning, full of encouragement and
Emily’s POV The restaurant Karen chose was warm and quiet, with soft lighting and the gentle hum of conversation around us. We sat across from each other at a small table near the window, and as soon as I settled into my seat, she leaned forward slightly, looking both relieved and uneasy at the same time. “Thanks so much for coming, Em,” she said, twisting the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I hope Alex doesn’t mind that we’re meeting like this, does he?” I smiled reassuringly, unfolding my napkin and placing it across my lap. “It’s completely fine, Karen. Actually, he came over earlier planning to have dinner with me, but when I told him I’d already agreed to meet you, he understood right away. He said it was no problem at all.” Karen’s face fell a little, and she let out a soft sigh. “Oh no, now I feel even worse. I didn’t mean to disrupt your plans or take time away from you two. I’m really sorry, Em.” I shook my head quickly, reaching across the table to touch her h
Emily’s POV Mr. Pierre moved slowly from one canvas to the next, his gaze sharp and attentive, occasionally stepping closer to study a brushstroke or a blend of colors. He had asked to see the finished works I’d set aside for his gallery, and as he turned to face me, there was genuine admiration in his expression. Truth be told, I still found myself looking at them and thinking of small changes I might make—little adjustments here and there that only I seemed to notice. But Pierre nodded firmly, as if there was no room for doubt. “These are wonderful, Em,” he said, resting one hand thoughtfully beneath his chin. “Truly impressive. I can already picture how they will look on the walls of my new space.” I smiled, though I still felt that familiar twinge of self‑doubt. “Thank you, Mr. Pierre. Honestly, I’m not entirely satisfied with every detail yet.” He laughed softly, walking toward the large window that lit up the studio. “You know, this will be my third gallery opening—and
Emily’s POVThe doctor’s words hung in the air as we left the clinic: Kael’s injury wasn’t serious enough to need treatment or further examination, but he would definitely have to stay off the ice and rest for a while—long enough to make sure his leg healed completely without risk of strain or re‑injury. Alex and the others helped him to his car, making sure he was comfortable before heading back to finish up at the arena, while Alex offered to drive me straight home.Inside the car, the afternoon light filtered softly through the windows, but my mind was still turning over everything Karen had told me earlier. I wanted to ask Alex about it—and about something else that had lingered in my thoughts ever since she spoke about their past. I turned slightly toward him as he merged smoothly into traffic.“By the way… I just found out you and Karen have actually known each other since elementary school,” I said, watching his profile. “Back then… why did you reject her?”Alex let out a lo
Emily’s POV There was something truly enjoyable about watching Alex train like this. Even though I’d sat through countless hours of practice before—back when I used to accompany Julian to the same kind of rinks—seeing Alex out on the ice gave me a completely different feeling. The way he moved was sharp yet fluid, powerful but controlled; every turn, every pass, every burst of speed looked effortless, as if he and the ice were always meant to work together. Just seeing him smile or call out to a teammate made something light and warm settle deep inside my chest. I realized then that watching him play didn’t just feel like watching a sport—it made me happy in a quiet, steady way I hadn’t expected. “You really can’t stop staring at him, can you?” The voice beside me pulled me gently back to the present. Karen sat on the bench in the stands, a cold can of cola in one hand, grinning at me over the rim. My cheeks flushed a little, and I shifted my gaze quickly toward the rest of t
Alex’s POVSix months had passed, and I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I had run away from the only thing that ever mattered.I stood on the ice in Paris, skates cutting sharp lines, but my mind was thousands of miles away. The coach’s voice echoed across the arena, sharp and frustrated.“A
Emily’s POV I was still in the hospital when Julian left me alone there. The room felt too quiet, too white, too empty. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my hand resting on my stomach where the baby used to be. It felt like a dream — a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I could still feel
Emily’s POV I looked into his eyes, the same stormy gray eyes that had stared into mine that night, and asked, “Are you sure? I’m not stopping, so you should decide now.” Alex didn’t hesitate. He pulled me closer, his hands firm on my hips. “I’m sure,” I whispered against his lips. “I’ve wanted
Emily’s POV I finally decided to return to the dorm after finishing half of my painting. The studio had been my only escape today, the smell of oil paint and the quiet rhythm of the brush the only things that made sense. But as I walked through the parking lot, a car’s headlights suddenly hit me,







