PARKER

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

After yet another win, the boys and I cheer as we leave the ice and make our way back to the locker room. Home wins are always way more rewarding, especially when our staff lines the hall to congratulate us by yelling, playing music, and setting up a healthy snack table.

Tonight was even more special, though, because we played Denver, meaning one of my best friends is also in the building.

As soon as I get to my locker, I slyly check my phone, the same thing I've done after every game before I even think of undressing.

Like normal, my post-win high falls a bit when I see the screen.

Great game hun!

You're playing great, keep it up. Tell Connor we say hello.

you talented mother fucker, see you next week (I'm not letting you score on me)

That's it.

Up until last month, Dakota would text me after every game. I have no idea why she stopped, but it still hurts whenever I don't see her name.

Even though it has been almost a year since our split, I still feel it every day. When I am in the kitchen, I'm reminded of that day she came over to the hockey house and taught me to make cookies. When I go home, I remember the short weekend we spent together there, and I can't even sleep in my bed anymore because it's where she told me she loved me for the first time. Worst of all, when I play hockey, I can not help but picture her behind the bench, same as she was for every home game I played at Michigan.

I have not seen her since she came up to Seattle last year, though it's not for lack of trying. We only played in Nashville once this year, and it was on Thanksgiving.

Standing in front of Sweet Exchange feels surreal. Sure, I've stalked this place online for months, but knowing that Dakota spends almost every day in this exact building is freaking me out more than I'd like to admit.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, so as much as I've been trying to stay indifferent, I am also going to be devastated if she is not here.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I force myself to move forward and through the open door.

"Welcome in," an older woman greets me from behind the counter. "You're here at the perfect time, we just pulled most everything out of the oven."

I nod politely, only slightly embarrassed of the fact that I came in five minutes after opening, too eager to wait any longer.

Spinning in a slow circle, I take everything in, needing a second to calm myself down. When I make it back around, a young girl, no older than sixteen, stares at me curiously, standing in the same spot the older woman once was.

"Do I know you?" She blurts out.

"Uh," I push my hair back. "Maybe? I play hockey."

"For who?"

"Seattle."

Her eyes widen for a moment. "I'm Gemma," she holds a hand out to me.

I return the gesture carefully, not knowing where this is going. "Parker."

"Oh my god," she gasps, turning towards the door I assume leads to a back room. "Marie, he came!"

The older woman, who I have now learned is Marie, comes back out. "Are you sure it's him?"

Gemma turns back to me. "Last name?"

"Cadell."

"Prove it," she snaps her fingers at me, needing me to move quickly.

Chuckling, I pull out my ID and hand it over so both of the women can study it for a few seconds. When they're satisfied, Gemma lets out a squeal as she runs into the back and returns moments later with a white box.

She smirks. "This is for you, Parker Cadell."

I take the box and buy a few items before heading out, wanting to get back to the hotel and open the damn thing as soon as possible.

Inside are a few blueberry muffins, chocolate chip cookies, and a couple of other random pastries. While it all looks great, the small envelope taped to the lid catches my attention the most. With shaky hands, I rip it open and re-read the note written for me ten times over.

Even today, my heart stops for a moment every time I think about that day and how she prepared a whole box of treats for me on the off-chance that I showed up to the bakery. I never told her I was stopping by, worried it would complicate feelings.

That note still sits in the top drawer of my dresser, accessible for me to read whenever I have trouble sleeping. It's the only physical proof I have that she continues to think about me.

Realizing that I'm starting to spiral, I shake my head and dress out as fast as humanly possible, rushing through post-game interviews to meet Connor out by my car.

"You may have shown me up tonight, but don't forget who your captain was last season."

Laughing, I nudge his shoulder when he settles in the passenger seat of my truck. "Only because I was a transfer, nice try though."

We chat as I drive back to my apartment, preferring to have a chill night as opposed to drinking until we fall over after a hard game. It's only a short drive from the arena, so we're able to escape the constant light rain in no time.

My apartment is only a one-bedroom, but he's happy to slump on my pull-out couch for the night, even if he has a perfectly good hotel room waiting for him if he'd rather be there. I already set it up earlier, so we go straight to the table and order delivery for a late dinner.

"So," I sit down, handing Connor a beer. "How's Denver?"

He beams. "I love it. I know it's still early days, but I could even see myself staying there for my entire career."

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you."

"Even Birk loves it there. I managed to get into a building with a dog park, and he hangs out with one of the wives and their dog whenever I'm on the road."

Connor did end up taking Birk with him to Denver. He was on the fence at first, worried he would not have the time for both hockey and a dog, so he decided on a short trial-run during playoffs last summer. Birk became best friends with his linemate's dog, and now they hang at the rink all day and the dog park all night.

"You're playing Tampa soon, right?"

"Yeah," I smirk. "I don't have much time there, but I'm looking forward to seeing Brooks and stuff."

"By 'and stuff' do you mean hoping to get a glimpse of your ex?" He cuts straight to the chase.

"Fuck, man. I hate that word," I lift my beer to my lips once again, basically draining the thing in one go.

"At this point, it's what she is. So answer my question."

My eyes are glued to the table. "Of course I'm hoping she'll be there. I know it's a long shot, but it'd be a nice surprise."

"Like when you tried to surprise her by showing up to the bakery?" Connor smirks.

"How do you know about that?"

He pins me with a playful glare. "If she knew I was telling you this, she'd kill me. So don't fucking tell her, but when she found out you went to see her, she wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. You two are such saps."

I can't help but smile at his confession. "If you're gonna be an ass, at least tell me how she's been doing. I was never able to get more than a couple of words out of her."

"She's okay," he pauses. "After you guys broke it off, she threw herself into work even more than before. I mean, she gets there at like three in the morning to start the ovens, goes home for a midday nap, then comes back after closing to prepare for the next day."

Leaning back, I lace my fingers together behind my neck and stare at the ceiling. After our breakup, we texted very occasionally, but both of us knew we couldn't talk about anything more than surface-level stuff to avoid getting upset about the situation.

"Does she do anything other than work?"

"Do you?" Connor's voice is firm.

I stand up, needing to get rid of nervous energy. "It doesn't matter what I do or don't do. I just need her to be okay. Living the life of a usual twenty-three year old and all that shit."

He lets out a sigh. "Cadell, the morning after you two broke up she went into work mode. She decided that if she couldn't be with you anymore, then she wanted to own her own business as soon as possible. No matter how many times Kota tells me she made that decision because she wants to be a 'young business woman' I won't believe her. We both know why that is, and it's the same reason you've put all of your time and energy into hockey."

I'm silent, absorbing every single one of his words.

"You guys really don't talk anymore?"

"Con," I scoff. "You know the answer to that. She stopped texting me back, so I've left her alone. Easy as that."

I don't like the way he's looking at me, almost with pity. "You two really need to get back together. You're both miserable."

"Not up to me," I shrug. "It's been in her hands since day one."

Connor shifts the subject back to hockey, letting me breathe a sigh of relief. We continue to talk for another hour, until we're both so tired we can barely keep our eyes open and he announces he's going to sleep.

"Wait," I place a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Has she been dating at all?"

Connor stands, slapping the side of my head before moving towards his makeshift bed. "Dumb mother fucker," he mumbles loudly, wanting me to hear.