HAYDEN

Coleen’s apartment always smelled faintly like vanilla and fresh laundry. It was nothing fancy, just the small space she shared with Mark, but for me, it was starting to feel like a safe place. A place where the noise of hockey, expectations, and scouts couldn’t reach me.

In fact, I could be beside a dumpster and still feel the same as long as I was with Coleen.

She was curled up on the couch when I came in, a blanket draped over her legs, her hair falling in loose waves over her ...