**Chapter 1** **RACHEL** “What am I doing here?” My voice trembles as I whisper to the emptiness inside my car, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Before me stands the house I’ve landed at, a sprawling structure that looms like a fortress in the moonlight. I hope desperately that I’ve got the address correct. Is this really Hockey House? A laugh bubbles in my throat at the thought of Mikayla, my best friend, sharing that this ragtag gang of jocks had actually named their residence. Who does that? And why on earth would you settle on something so bland as “Hockey House”? But laughter eludes me now, replaced with the sting of tears as I take in the two-story home that spreads across the yard, which is trimmed neat as a pin, a wide driveway that looks empty now but I can envision it being packed with flashy trucks and gleaming cars, the kind that scream of athletic prowess and fraternity life. Mikayla’s countless messages have painted a vibrant picture of this place—six bedrooms occupied by a mob of boisterous guys, and my little friend who fits in seamlessly with this rowdy crowd. Me? I feel like a fish tossed forlornly from its tank, gasping and flailing in uncharted waters. I bite down on my lip, swallowing hard, but the ache in my throat is more than tiredness. It’s a reminder of every tear shed over the past days, a tangible weight weighing me down. How can I possibly knock on that door when I feel like I’m crumbling from within? Are any of them home right now to even answer? My gaze trails from the empty driveway to the glow of the porch light above the door, an inviting beacon, but it feels like an invitation to another world—a world I don’t belong in anymore. “Shit.” With clenched eyes, I try to stave off the welling tears threatening to spill forth, panic beating like a drum in my chest. I must hold it together; there’s no room for another breakdown. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Mikayla. I can’t walk into Hockey House with a splotchy, tear-streaked face. She’ll sense the storm raging beneath my skin. Was it only last night? Exhaustion clings to me like a heavy shroud. I’ve had barely two hours of sleep, snatched at a grimy truck stop outside Vegas, and now I’m here, battling cold air and fatigue while my mind races with unwelcome memories. “Come on, Ray. Move your ass or freeze.” Gritting my teeth against the chill, I reach for the door handle, forcing in a deep breath, banishing the shivers that crawl beneath my skin. Inside the house, a warm glow spills through the windows, illuminating the space with a soft amber light that beckons, possibly from the kitchen or the living area. Maybe Mikayla’s in there waiting, ready to gather me into her arms because, God knows, I could use that embrace right now. I step into the frigid night, the temperature dropping immediately and wrapping around me like a cruel embrace. I huddle inside my jacket, pulling it tight as I wrench the back door open and drag out my suitcase. It's lighter than my biggest bag, but I couldn't tell you what I had thrown inside in my haste. Probably forgotten half my essentials, but at this point, it hardly matters. A shudder wracks my body as I fight against the tears that threaten to pour out once more. “Pull it together! Don’t freak Mick out,” I chant silently, and somehow, my internal reprimand works—at least until I reach the door, and the reality of venturing into that house slams into me again like a rogue wave. I ring the doorbell, my fingers numb from the cold, and frown while praying that Mikayla will open that door, that I’m not mistaken about this place, and that my life, which feels like an endless nightmare, might somehow find a glimmer of hope here. The handle clicks, and I hold my breath, anticipation thrumming in my veins. The door swings wide, and I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips when a shirtless man, chiseled like a marble statue from an ancient temple, stands before me, a living tapestry of muscle and confidence. Holy shit. He’s breathtaking—broad shoulders, a torso that could make sculptors weep, and are those eight-pack abs? My heart races, churning with emotions I shouldn’t be feeling right now. Stop staring, Rachel! I glance down, the ground suddenly the most interesting thing in the universe. “Um… uh… hi,” I stammer, the words barely leaving my lips as my cheeks flush hot. “Hey,” he replies, his voice buoyant and surprisingly soothing, coaxing me out of my daze. I sneak a glance, taking in the full effect again. He’s like sunshine and warmth all rolled into one, but my heart sinks back to reality. Just twenty-four hours ago, I had left my boyfriend, Theo. The thought hits hard, the sweetness of this stranger replaced with bitterness. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, misreading the emotion swirling in my eyes. “Maybe.” I rub my forehead, feeling the weight of my messy bangs. “I’m looking for Mikayla Hyde. I think she lives here?” “Yeah, she does.” His smile lights up the space, and relief floods me like a warm tide. “But she’s not home right now.” And just like that, the warm tide recedes, leaving me exposed and raw. “But you’re welcome to come in and wait for her,” he offers, that inviting smile still plastered across his face. It feels a bit too much like a sales pitch, but I see something genuine in his eyes. I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder toward my lonely car. Would stepping into this unknown be safe? Could I even trust him? “So, do you want to come in and wait for her?” He gestures inside, the door wide open, an invitation echoing in the quiet night. My heartbeat quickens. What awaits me inside? Bunches of guys? Drunk rambunctious laughs? “It’s perfectly safe,” he reassures, an almost-charming tilt to his smile. I blink, searching his face for a sliver of deception, but I only find warmth. A part of me yearns to take that leap, to step away from the icy wall I’ve built around myself. “I’m a gentleman, I swear. I’ll get you a coffee or hot chocolate and leave you be if you want… or I can sit with you. Whatever you need.” I want to trust him, but I thought Theo was sweet, too, and my heart clenches with the memory of that night. “Shit,” I whisper, feeling tears crowd behind my eyes. “I—” Before I can stop it, a sob escapes, catching me off guard and causing my body to jerk. In an instant, he’s there—no hesitation in his movements—wrapping strong, comforting arms around me. I stiffen. What is he doing? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he murmurs. “I promise.” How can I believe him so easily? Is he really different or am I a fool once more? Somehow, inside me stirs a whisper of trust. With a gentle nudge, his warmth pulls me forward, into the safety of the house. As the door closes behind us, the warmth wraps around me like a blanket. “It’s gonna be okay.” His voice is deceptively gentle, laced with kindness that threatens to break down my defenses. But how can it ever be okay? Not after everything. “I’m Liam, by the way,” he says, his hand gesturing to his chest. “Rachel,” I manage to rasp in reply, a flicker of strength emerging in my voice. A smile flares on his lips again, bright and infectious. “You’re Mick’s friend from California. She talks about you all the time.” Through the haze of tears, I struggle to form a proper smile. “Hopefully good stuff.” “Always good stuff! You’re one of her favorites—definitely in the top five, maybe even number one. Ethan might be nipping at your heels, though. You’ll have to check with her.” His playful wink catches me off guard, a flash of light amidst my despair. My heart stirs despite itself, laughter nearly bubbling forth. But the shadows are heavy, and my breaths become ragged as memories threaten resurgence. His smile begins to falter as he takes in my expression, a look of concern flashing across his face. “C’mere.” I hesitate, instinctively stepping back. “Why?” “Because you look like you could use a shoulder to cry on.” He keeps his voice low and inviting. “I promise I’m not going to be a creep. We just met, and I understand if you don’t trust me—” “Liam,” I say, recognizing his name from Mikayla’s stories. “Yeah, some call me Padre. You know, just looking out for my teammates. I swear I’m a good guy.” The earnestness in his voice ignites a glimmer of hope inside me. Slowly, uncertainty begins to lift as my resolve crumbles under the weight of my pain. I nod, and before I can second-guess myself, I step into his embrace. The tears flood out, racing down my cheeks. Without warning, he envelopes me in his powerful arms, and I collapse against him, surrendering to the unending tide of sorrow that consumes me. My legs tremble, ready to give way, but he holds me steady, strong and steadfast. He carries me to the couch, settling down gently and cradling me like I’m made of glass as I curl against him. His shoulder feels solid and worn, a sanctuary that catches every tear cascading from my heartache. He rubs soothing circles at the base of my skull, back and forth, with a tenderness that sews together my frayed spirit. All I’ve ever known of love seems to bleed out of me, the memories of what was fading with each sob, and I lose myself amidst the warmth of his gentle presence. As he comforts me, I start to mourn the memories of what I thought would last forever—with Theo, with the love I once believed to be unbreakable. I’m enveloped in a storm of emotions, stripped bare and raw, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I allow myself to feel—not just the heartache, but the quiet hope that perhaps this chapter—this moment—could be the start of something new.