When Aria Monroe lands her dream job as the new photographer for Los Angeles's professional hockey team, the last thing she expects is to work with the cocky, arrogant center Connor Holden who rocked her world five years ago during a one-night stand...
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I've been holed up in my bedroom for a week.
Seven days have passed since Connor was knocked out cold on the ice. Seven days since the man I never got to tell I was in love with almost left my life for good. I almost lost him, and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't get the images of his body hitting the board and collapsing. In a matter of seconds, he went from being focused on the goal to not having a thought at all.
Death can take someone that quickly. My sister went from wishing me to enjoy the party that night to lying in a pool of her own blood on the bathroom floor. I thought I was healing. I thought I was getting over my fears, but watching Connor hit the ice brought everything back tenfold.
Curling on my side in bed, I frown at the mess I've created. A mixture of tissues and ice cream pints litter the floor, and my hair is matted from not running a brush through it. I'm a disaster--a depressed, pathetic coward.
I should have gone to see him at the hospital. I should have been by his side rather than sitting by my phone and waiting for updates from Levi and Matti, but just the thought of stepping into that hospital again after they pronounced my sister dead in that very same waiting room, I couldn't bear it. The memories make my skin crawl with a horrifying, gut-wrenching sensation, and the fear of having to relive that?
My eyes are swollen from the crying—a mixture of sadness and relief. Connor woke up two days after arriving at the hospital, and after another day of observation, he was released to go home. Levi and Matti are helping him out with the occasional support of his parents and siblings. He has the love and support of plenty around him, but the main one who should have been there was me, and I froze. In the moment that mattered the most, I froze.
The sound of my front door opening and closing downstairs has me shooting up in bed. My eyes dart to the mess surrounding me, my heart rate spiking.
Who the hell—
Esme appears in my doorway a few seconds later, an expression of sympathy lining her features. I don't need pity. I don't deserve pity, and right about now, I'm really regretting giving her a spare key to my house.
Then again, I'm not sure what else I expected from her when I ignored her calls for the past week.
"Aria," she whispers, scanning me and the mess that is my room. "God, it's worse than I thought."
I fall back onto my pillows and tug the comforter over my head. "Please, go away. I want to be left alone."
She tugs the comforter off not even five seconds later. "My father is worried about you, and so am I. He says you haven't been to work at all this week."
"I get a week of paid vacation," I snap. "I told him I'm using it."
Esme tentatively sits beside me on the bed and takes my hand in hers. "You need to see him, Aria."
