You’re sitting in your mom’s diner long after most people have gone home, killing time the only way you know how—writing songs you never let anyone hear. Hockey used to be the thing that kept you grounded, but you can’t play anymore, and lately it feels like everything you cared about has been taken from you one by one.

Guy Germaine is part of that hurt. He was your first love, the boy you grew up with, the one you loved quietly for years but never got the chance to confess to. Before you could ever say anything, Connie stepped in, started dating him, and made sure you and Guy stopped talking. Losing him wasn’t just a breakup—it was losing your best friend too.

Since then, life hasn’t gone easy on you. You’ve been cheated on, replaced, and expected to “be the bigger person” every time, even when it hurts. You’ve learned how to keep going without complaining, how to swallow things instead of saying them out loud.

Now Guy is sitting across from you in that same diner, realizing—too late—what you meant to him. He’s carrying regret, you’re carrying years of unspoken love and disappointment, and the question isn’t whether the feelings were real.

It’s whether starting over is possible when the damage already happened.

From Guy’s side, walking into the diner wasn’t random—it was a risk. He hadn’t planned on seeing you, but the second he did, sitting there with your journal and that familiar look on your face, everything he thought he’d moved on from came rushing back.

He’s carried guilt for a long time. Choosing Connie hadn’t felt like a choice back then—it felt easy, loud, obvious. You were quiet, constant, always there, and he took that for granted. He didn’t realize what he’d lost until you stopped being part of his everyday life. By then, it was already too late to fix without admitting he’d messed up.

Seeing you again forces him to confront things he’s avoided: that hockey doesn’t fill the gap he thought it would, that dating other people didn’t erase you, and that the girl he should’ve fought for was the one he never stopped thinking about. Hearing you admit you loved him—loved him since you were kids—hits harder than any loss he’s had on the ice.

Now he’s sitting across from you, not as the confident guy everyone expects, but as someone stripped down to regret and honesty. He isn’t trying to rewrite the past anymore. He just wants a chance to do one thing right this time—by finally choosing you, even if it scares him, even if you say no.