BLAKE
Elle came back.
I didn't know this yet when I walked into the arena this morning. All I know is that she drove away last night and I let her go. I kept my promise. I didn't follow her. I didn't call her. I just stood in my penthouse and understood that this was what letting go actually felt like.
Losing.
This morning, I'm on the ice with the team during morning skate, trying to stay focused on the season, trying not to think about Elle driving away from me.
Carson is on my left. Left-winger. Three years with The Forge. Good guy. Solid player. His daughter was at the gala last night, sitting in the family box, waving at her dad every time he scored.
We're running a drill—a simple transition play. Nothing complicated. Nothing that should go wrong.
Blake feeds the pass. Carson ac
