Famous Last Words: A College Hockey Romance (Holt Hockey Book 1)

It’s raining even harder when we leave the restaurant. The Garrisons offered to take me out for a late lunch slash early dinner after the game. Since the alternative was going home and staring at my phone, waiting for Conor to reply to any of my messages, I accepted.

Unease joins the spaghetti in my stomach when I check my phone for the hundredth time and still have no messages from him.

“How’s your marathon training going?” Landon asks me as Hugh drives back toward my house to drop me off. “Because that meal definitely set mine back a bit.”

I force a smile. “Could be going better.”

Conor has been too busy to run with me lately, and I’m not very motivated to train by myself.

“We should do some family runs while you’re both back for winter break,” Hugh says. “All get in the groove together.”

“That sounds very lame,” Landon says. “Next you’ll be suggesting matching T-shirts.”

“Oooh, that could be fun,” Allison says.

Landon snorts.

I don’t say what I’m thinking, that I’m considering finally accepting my aunts’ invitation and returning to Ireland for the first time without my parents. My original plan was this summer, but I don’t have any plans for winter break. And I’m hoping to graduate with a job lined up, so my time will be more limited.

I wanted to talk to Conor about it first, because at some point he became that person for me. The one I run everything by, the one whose opinion matters most.

The one who walked away, after telling me he wouldn’t.

Hugh pulls up alongside the curb outside my house. I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Don’t worry about getting out,” I tell them. It’s still raining steadily.

“Tell him he played well,” Allison says softly.

I glance out the window, spotting the figure she already saw.

Well, at least I know he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere. I figured he was ignoring me on purpose.

I swallow. “I will. Thanks for coming.”

I climb out of the car, not bothering to pull up my hood as I approach the front door. Eve’s car isn’t in the driveway, and there’s no sign of his either.

Conor glances up, watching me walk toward him. Stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s been here for a while, his blue jacket soaked black and his dark hair shedding water.

“I’m sorry about earlier. Walking off.” His voice is hoarse. “I was having a shit day, obviously. I wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about the game.”

Rain has saturated my hair too, starting to slide down my face. Ruining Eve’s curls.

“No. It’s not okay.” He exhales. “I can’t do this, Harlow.”

“This?”

“Us.”

The pavement I’m standing on feels like it’s shifting. Like the ground just got pulled out from under me. And all I can think to say is, “Oh.”

“I thought I could. I never meant to…We lost today. And it wasn’t because Edgewood was the better team. It was because I was distracted—because I’ve been distracted. We kept winning, and so I told myself it didn’t matter. But I just let down every guy on the team, let down my coach, let down myself. And I’m not blaming you at all. I made my own choices, and I have to live with them.”

The only sound is the patter of raindrops around us.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Conor flinches, and I realize that came from me.

“Weeks of sex and snuggling and sharing, last night you took me to the banquet as your date and asked me if I wanted a relationship, and this is how you end things? You lose one game and remember all you care about is hockey? That’s bullshit, Conor.”

“I don’t just care about hockey. I care about you too, Harlow. That’s not the issue here. The problem is, whenever I’m around you, I get sucked in. Nothing was supposed to happen between us at all. Then it was only going to be once. Then once turned into a hundred times! I can’t focus on anything else when you’re around, and I need to.”

“You can’t play hockey twenty-four seven, Conor. It’s not physically possible. No other player on the team is—”

“I’m not another player on the team, Harlow! In the league, in this division! I need to be the best. If I want any shot, I have to be the best. I have to work twice as hard, and I need to focus.”

“If you’d won today, would we be having this conversation?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But we didn’t. An undefeated season is gone. One fewer game for this season, maybe forever. I wish it were all different. That I didn’t get that concussion and miss the combine and draft. That I wanted it a little less. But I want it, more than anything.”

“More than me.” I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement. If there’s anything I can say to change his mind, or if I even should.

He kicks at a stray pebble, not answering. Although that is an answer, I guess.

Finally, he says, “How were we going to work, Harlow? Were you going to cut them out of your life, or was I supposed to accept they’re in yours?”

“I didn’t know the Garrisons were coming today,” I tell him. “I didn’t ask them to come. I know how you feel about them, and I’ve tried to respect that. To keep it separate from us.”

“And you think it’s a coincidence they showed up right after they found out about us? Hugh’s using you to get to me, and I can’t deal with that. Can’t have him showing up here. At least in Claremont, it’s on my own terms. This is my school. My team. My place. Three of my teammates asked me who the people you were standing with were.”

Eve’s car pulls into the driveway. I watch her climb out with a box clutched to her chest. “Got a doughnut cake for you, birthday girl,” she calls out.

I want to hug Eve, because after this conversation all I want is to drink vodka and eat doughnuts all night.

And then I want to clap a hand over her mouth, when I see the look on Conor’s face.

“Why are you guys out here?” There’s a pause, where Eve must notice my expression. “I’ll be inside,” she says, then rushes into the house.

“It’s your birthday?” His voice sounds choked. “Fuck, Harlow. I didn’t…that’s why the Garrisons were here?”

“You should go, Conor.” My tone is sharp, because it hurts. This whole moment…hurts.

“I’m sorry, Hayes.”

I want to snap at him not to call me that, but I’m striving for indifference at this point. Struggling to stay upright.

“We’re done, okay? You got your priorities straightened out. Don’t text me. Don’t talk to me. And don’t expect me to wait for you.”

Conor nods once, his expression not even shifting. No reaction at all. Just apathy staring back at me, like he didn’t hold me after every time we had sex last night. Like we’re back to being strangers. “Happy Birthday, Harlow.”

Then he turns and starts walking away, down the sidewalk headed toward his street a few blocks over.

I stay standing, inhaling the perfume of fresh rain. Watching the water fall around me and feeling the salty streams roll down my cheeks.

I told myself I’d never, ever fall in love with Conor Hart.

Famous last words.