The Questions We Never Asked
1042 Words
Emma's plan was simple.
Keep her distance.
Do her job.
Ignore the fact that every room felt smaller whenever Noah Callahan entered it.
It was a solid plan.
Unfortunately, Noah seemed determined to ruin it.
Three days into the assignment, Emma found herself standing near the edge of the rink after practice, recording notes for her article.
Players were slowly leaving the ice.
Coaches gathered equipment.
The arena was settling into a comfortable afternoon quiet.
Exactly what she needed.
A little peace.
A little distance.
A little time to forget the way Noah's eyes kept finding hers.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Martin.
Need exclusive comments from Callahan. Deadline moved up.
Emma groaned.
Of course.
Because apparently the universe enjoyed tormenting her.
She slipped her phone into her pocket and headed toward the locker room corridor.
The hallway was nearly empty.
Good.
Maybe she could grab a quick quote and escape before her emotions staged another mutiny.
She turned a corner.
And walked straight into a wall of muscle.
A very familiar wall of muscle.
Strong hands caught her shoulders before she could stumble backward.
Heat shot through her body instantly.
Emma froze.
Noah froze.
The contact lasted barely two seconds.
It felt like an eternity.
His hands remained on her shoulders.
Her pulse immediately betrayed her.
The same way it always had around him.
Slowly, Noah released her.
But he didn't move away.
"Sorry."
The word sounded rough.
Emma stepped back.
Creating space.
Needing space.
"It's fine."
His jaw tightened.
That was becoming a habit.
Every conversation between them seemed to irritate him.
Good.
Maybe now he understood how she felt.
Neither moved.
The hallway suddenly felt far too narrow.
Far too private.
Far too dangerous.
Noah crossed his arms.
"We need to talk."
Emma almost laughed.
"No, we don't."
"Emma."
"Noah."
His name slipped out before she could stop it.
The effect was immediate.
Something flashed across his face.
Something vulnerable.
Something she wasn't prepared to see.
For a brief second, neither of them looked away.
Five years disappeared.
Memories flooded back.
Summer nights.
Road trips.
Promises.
Dreams.
Forever.
Emma looked away at first.
The memories hurt too much.
Noah noticed.
Of course, he noticed.
He always noticed.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
The question caught her off guard.
She stared at him.
Disbelief quickly turns into anger.
"Seriously?"
His expression darkened.
"I'm asking a question."
Emma laughed.
A sharp, humorless sound.
"You don't get to ask questions."
Noah's eyes narrowed.
"And why not?"
The answer exploded out of her.
"Because you left."
Silence.
Heavy.
Immediate.
Painful.
Noah looked stunned.
Actually stunned.
As if he'd never considered that possibility.
Emma hated that reaction.
Hated how confused he looked.
Hated how much she still wanted to understand him.
"You left me," she continued.
"You chose hockey."
"No."
The response came instantly.
Firmly.
Without hesitation.
"No, I didn't."
Emma blinked.
For a moment she thought she'd misheard him.
"What?"
Noah stepped forward.
His voice lowered.
"I never left you."
The certainty in his tone shook her.
Because he sounded sincere.
Completely sincere.
Which made no sense.
None.
"What are you talking about?"
His eyes burned.
The intensity she remembered all too well.
"You stopped answering my calls."
Emma froze.
Noah continued.
"You stopped responding to messages."
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
"I called every day."
"Noah—"
"For weeks."
The words landed like punches.
Emma stared at him.
Confusion replacing anger.
Because that wasn't what happened.
Not even close.
"You disappeared."
"No."
"You did."
"No, Emma."
His voice cracked.
Actually cracked.
"I was begging you to talk to me."
The hallway suddenly felt unsteady.
Like the floor had shifted beneath her feet.
Memories collided.
Contradictions.
Conflicting truths.
Two completely different versions of the same ending.
Emma shook her head.
"I waited for you."
Noah went still.
The pain that crossed his face nearly stole her breath.
"What?"
"I waited."
Her voice softened despite herself.
"I waited for weeks."
Noah stared at her.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.
Because something wasn't adding up.
Something we never had.
Emma remembered every sleepless night.
Every unanswered text.
Every call went straight to voicemail.
Every moment she convinced herself Noah had moved on.
But judging by the devastation in his eyes...
He remembered exactly the same thing.
Only from the opposite side.
"Noah..."
His name sounded different this time.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Confused.
Hurt.
Human.
Noah dragged a hand through his hair.
The movement revealed just how shaken he was.
"This doesn't make sense."
Emma nodded.
For once, they agreed.
No.
It didn't.
Not at all.
A long silence followed.
The kind that carries too much history.
Too much pain.
Too many unanswered questions.
Then footsteps echoed from down the corridor.
The spell broke instantly.
Reality returned.
Walls rose.
Defenses snapped back into place.
Neither of them knew what to do with what had just happened.
Neither was ready to process it.
Noah stepped back first.
The distance felt wrong.
Necessary.
But wrong.
His gaze lingered on her.
Searching.
Questioning.
As if seeing her for the first time all over again.
Then he spoke quietly.
"One of us is missing part of the story."
Emma's heart pounded.
Because deep down, she knew he was right.
Maybe she always had.
Maybe the breakup had never made sense because it wasn't supposed to.
Maybe there was something they hadn't seen.
Something hidden.
Something stolen.
The thought terrified her.
Because if Noah hadn't abandoned her...
Then she'd spent five years grieving the wrong thing.
And she wasn't sure which possibility hurt more.
The publicist appeared at the end of the hallway.
"Callahan, coach needs you."
Noah didn't look away from Emma.
Not immediately.
For several long seconds, it was just them.
Again.
Then he nodded.
And walked away.
Emma remained frozen in place.
Watching him leave.
Watching the man she'd spent five years hating disappear around the corner.
Only now does hatred feel different.
Smaller.
Less certain.
Because for the first time since their breakup...
A dangerous possibility had taken root.
What if neither of them had walked away?
What if someone had made sure they never found their way back to each other?
And if that was true—
Who had stolen five years of their lives?
- Writer
