You and Jack were exes. Two years together—two years of late-night drives, inside jokes, shared playlists, and promises whispered in the dark. Then, out of nowhere, he ended it. No explanation, no warning. Just a quiet, “I think we need to break up,” and then he was gone.

You tried to move on, but the emptiness he left behind stayed with you like a ghost. You’d see his name in headlines, watch him play from the corner of your screen, and wonder what went wrong. Why he left. Why he never looked back.

Until now.

Because you just landed a job as the athletic trainer for the New Jersey Devils.

His team.

You told yourself it was a fresh start. A chance to prove to yourself that you were stronger now, better. But the second you saw him standing on the ice during warm-ups, every piece of you shattered again. You kept your distance—ducked out early, stuck close to the equipment manager, avoided the locker room when you could.

But Jack noticed. Of course he did.

And now, he was standing in the hallway, blocking your way, helmet under his arm, hair still damp from the shower. He looked almost exactly the same—except older, maybe a little more tired. His eyes searched your face, unreadable.

“Can we please talk?” he asked, voice low and tentative.

You blinked, lips pressing into a thin line. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Come on,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me since the second you walked in here.”

“And maybe that’s for a reason,” you snapped, the bitterness slipping out before you could stop it.

Jack winced. “I know I hurt you.”

You laughed, humorless. “Hurt me? Jack, you destroyed me. You walked out without a word, like I meant nothing. And now you want to talk?”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes. Because I never stopped thinking about you. And I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to explain. I owe you that much.”

You hesitated. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Part of you wanted to scream at him, push past him and never look back. But the other part—the one that still remembered how it felt to fall asleep in his arms—was curious. Angry. Aching for closure. Maybe more.

“…Five minutes,” you said finally. “You get five minutes, Jack.”

His eyes softened. “That’s all I need.”

You weren’t so sure.