by Aven Ellis
Then she picks up her tote and sails out the door.
Write to him.
My brain begins to race. I’m going to get out of here and write the most important story I’ll ever write.
Our story.
And I won’t stop until it’s finished.
Chapter 32
The Game Plan For February 12th
√Write Heath and Calla’s story.
√Demons at Las Vegas late tonight. Will watch while writing and will try not to fall apart every time I see him or hear his name. But no matter what, I’m finishing this book before he comes back in a few days.
“So this is what you have been up to?” King Henry roared angrily. “Sneaking across the lines and becoming a human?”
Panic filled Calla. Oh no. No. Her father had tracked them to the forest.
Heath quickly drew his sword and pushed Calla behind him with one hand.
“You don’t belong here,” Heath said. “No matter what shape you take, I will kill you to protect her.”
“If you kill me, you will have to kill Calla next,” her father declared. “Because she will then be queen of our people.”
“What? Ridiculous. Calla isn’t a fairy,” Heath spat. “She is my love. She will marry me and return to my country. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
Calla gasped. That was the plan. She would abdicate her position for love. She would remain human and live in Heath’s world, where she could be free to love who she wanted and pursue her dream of becoming an artist.
The truth of her identity had sat on her tongue so many nights as she and Heath had lain in each other’s arms under the towering trees, but she’d been too afraid to say what should have been said from the first day he kissed her.
Her fear of losing Heath was going to cost her the one thing she needed above all things on this earth to survive.
Heath himself.
“Oh, it is my business,” King Henry roared. “She is my daughter.”
“Don’t!” Calla cried, stepping forward.
“Calla, get back!” Heath shouted. “He’s mad!”
“Am I?” Father raised his wand toward her.
“No!” Calla screamed, dropping to her knees. “Please don’t!”
Heath raised his shield to try and deflect the strike from the wand, but his knight skills were no match for the speed of the fairy king. Calla felt her body go hot the second the power struck her. She screamed in fear as she was lifted up in a cloud of gold, spinning, spinning and shrinking.
“Calla!” Heath yelled, dropping his shield and sword to the ground.
Within seconds, it was over.
Calla was a fairy again.
Heath stumbled backward, and Calla’s heart shattered into pieces when she saw the confusion and shock in his beautiful blue eyes.
“Heath, I’m sorry,” Calla whispered, flying close to him. “I’m a fairy.”
Heath gasped in shock. “No.”
Anguish filled Calla. “It’s true. King Henry is my father.”
Heath stumbled backward, and then fell to his knees. “You . . . you’re not human?”
“I’m not,” Calla whispers. “I’m a fairy.”
“You lied,” Heath said, his voice anguished. “You lied to me.”
“Of course she did,” King Henry intervened. “Calla has always tried to defy our orders for her. And what better way to do it, and hopefully be released from her position, than to run off with a dragon slayer.”
“No, Father, that isn’t true,” Calla cried. “I love him!”
“All this time . . .” Heath gasped, his eyes desperately searching hers for answers. “You lied to me.”
“You didn’t trust me when I first tried to help you,” Calla said. “I had to take a human form to treat you. I fell for you, and I knew you would never understand a lie, as you are so noble and just. But I love you, Heath. I’ll stay human forever if you will forgive me.”
“You,” King Henry said, “are coming home. This never happened. You will not have your image tarnished by being with a despicable knight. You will marry Prince Frederick as we planned.”
“No, I will not!” Calla cried.
“You will,” Heath said. Anger spread across his handsome face. “You have broken my heart, Calla. I will never trust you. I never want to see you again.”
“Heath, no,” Calla cried, fluttering near him. “Please, I love you.”
“Love is honest. Not this.”
Heath picked up his sword and shield then stormed over to his horse.
“No!” Calla screamed into the forest air. “No, Heath, don’t!”
He swiftly climbed on top of the black stallion and looked at her one last time. Calla could see her lie had destroyed him.
“Goodbye,” he said.
Then he rode off through the woods, and Calla knew she had lost her true love forever.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, and I blink. I’ve been writing since I got home.
And crying through every word I’ve typed.
“Just a second,” I say, reaching for the tissues I have parked next to my laptop.
I quickly wipe my tears off my face and toss the tissue into the wastebasket.
“Come in,” I say, trying to appear composed.
My mom comes into my bedroom. I see concern in her brown eyes.
“Holly, you have to stop,” she says gently. “You’re recovering from surgery. You can’t be working like this.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Sweetheart, you need to rest. And eat.”
“No.”
“Holly, I know you’re throwing yourself into this book to avoid thinking about Matt, bu—”
I spin around in my desk chair. “You’re wrong. I’m writing this book to try and save whatever might be left of a relationship with Matt. I won’t stop until it’s done.”
Mom sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching for my hair and stroking it.
“Holly, sometimes things don’t work out the way our hearts want them to,” she says gently.
I force down the lump in my throat. “I know that.”
“I don’t want you to make yourself sick trying to win back a man who might never come back. Matt was your first love. It’s all encompassing. Emotionally driven. You can’t see it now, but there will be others, I promise.”
“But Matt is not just my first love, Mom. He’s my only love. And I will stop at nothing to let him know how I feel and how desperately sorry I am. Wouldn’t you do the same if you had a fight with Dad when you were dating?”
Mom thinks about this for a moment. “You’re right. But I want you to know, no matter what happens with Matt, you’re strong. You’ll be okay, even if you don’t think you will.”
“All I know is I have to try, Mom. I won’t rest until this is done.”
“I can see that. You’re like Nate when you’re determined. But you do have to eat, honey. I’m going to bring you some dinner.”
“Okay,” I say, but I won’t touch it.
Mom walks out the door. I know she doesn’t believe Matt will come back, and she is trying to prepare me for that, but my heart won’t go there yet.
I slowly get up from my desk, as I’m still sore from surgery, and move over to the nightstand next to the bed. I pick up my phone, knowing Matt will be heading to the arena right now. If he wanted to text me, he could.
I turn it over, hoping for a message from him.
While I didn’t expect to hear from him, my body physically aches when I see there are no new messages.
I know Nate and Harrison both apologized to him yesterday. Nate told me they talked, and while Matt accepted his apology, he’s sti
ll furious at them. When Nate brought me up, Matt immediately shut him down, saying that was a topic he would never discuss with him.
When Nate told me that, I burst into tears.
Nate said Matt only talked to them when he had to at practice, and he sat with JP on the charter flight to Vegas in the back of the plane, away from the others. Nate said Matt and JP were talking, but he had no idea what about.
I think of the advice Mom gave me, basically saying I need to prepare myself for the fact that Matt and I could be over.
But I won’t.
Not until he reads my book. If he reads my book and wants nothing to do with me, I’ll have no choice but to accept it.
Yet I know one thing for sure.
My heart will never recover if Matt moves on without me.
“Harrison Flynn along the boards with the puck,” Paul Davenport, the play-by-play announcer for the Demons says. “Matt Rhinelander has moved to the right of the net, looking for the pass.”
“Look at Matt bang his stick on the ice, he wants it,” Chip Leport, the analyst, adds.
I watch as Matt moves again, putting himself in prime position to score.
“Pass it!” I yell.
Harrison turns and dumps it back to Nate, who comes up the left-hand side of the net. Matt moves to the right, once again, banging his stick on the ice. Nate passes to Harrison. Harrison back to Nate. Finally, Nate shoots the puck across the ice to Matt who unleashes it toward the net with a wicked wrist shot.
“Johansson to Rhinelander . . . He shoots he scores!” Paul yells. “Matt Rhinelander with his 34th goal of the season, putting the Demons up 1-0 over the Scorpions.”
“Yes!” I cry, watching as Matt’s smile lights up the screen. Harrison and Nate skate over to him, and they all embrace, just as teammates do after they score. His eyes are shining, he’s smiling, and I see nothing but joy on his face.
I put my hand over my lips as a wave of emotion washes over me. I’m glad to see Matt celebrating. I’m relieved that all this drama hasn’t ruined his game. How grateful I am that hockey is helping him stay focused right now, despite how his life has turned upside down on him.
But on the other hand, I’m devastated to see him. All it does is remind me of what I have lost. I want to talk to him. I yearn to touch him. I want him to read my words and see if he can find it in his heart to give us another chance.
I brush away more tears and refocus myself. I go back to my laptop and while the game is on, I lose myself in the world of Heath and Calla.
Calla flung herself to the floor of her room in the castle. Her world had gone black when Heath rode out of it. Oh, God, if there was only a way to undo what she had done! Her lie wasn’t told to hurt Heath, but that is exactly what had happened. In her efforts to help him, she destroyed him, and she would have sooner died than inflict that pain on the only man she had ever loved.
Heath was so brave. A warrior. He had overcome so much, from parents who never loved him to his people projecting all their desires on his shoulders, simply because he was the best dragon slayer in the land. But to Calla, he was brave and strong, fighting through his past to become the man she knew. It was this man she loved, not the dragon slayer.
With Heath in her life, she grew. She felt adored and special in his presence. Heath had pushed her to face her fears. He was supportive and gentle and showed her what love was all about, both physically and emotionally. He’d become her world the minute he entered the forest.
And her world had shattered apart the second he left it.
Would he ever know how much she loved him? Treasured him? Enjoyed the simple things just because he had been by her side? He was a wonderful man with so many riches to give, and she had felt lucky every single day she was with him. No man would ever replace Heath in her heart.
Calla cried until she had no tears left. Her soul, empty without his love. She pushed herself up, wondering what she could do to convince Heath that while lying was wrong, she had not done it for the wrong reasons. The lie was because she thought she could help him. She never sought to gain anything from being with him.
Except love.
Calla couldn’t let their story end like this. She couldn’t. She rushed to her desk and retrieved a piece of parchment. She sat down, dipped her quill in ink, and wrote everything that was in her heart onto the paper.
When she finished, she stared at the words, knowing she had put her heart out there for him to read.
And it would be up to Heath to determine how their story would end.
Chapter 33
The Game Plan For February 14th
√It’s Valentine’s Day.
√Run to drugstore for more Kleenex.
√Text Reese—again—and reassure her I need to be alone tonight.
Try to come to terms with the fact that Matt and I are over.
The rain pelts the rooftop and windows. It’s dark and chilly out tonight, a perfect night to settle in with a fire and wine and celebrate a cozy Valentine’s Day at home.
Except all it does is reminds me of everything I’ve lost.
Matt isn’t coming back.
Tears flood my eyes again as I struggle to come to grips with his decision. I hoped with all my heart that Matt would read the letter I gave him for when he was mad at me, and my book, which CiCi printed and gave to him yesterday. I hoped he would read both and see how much I love him. That I only agreed to Nate and Harrison’s plan to help him. I never, ever wanted anything in exchange for helping him stay on track.
But Matt hasn’t said a word. No text. No phone call.
He may have burnt my letter and the book for all I know.
Or worse, he may have read them, and my words made no difference to him.
I curl up in a ball on the sofa, grateful to be alone tonight. I pull a throw blanket over me, tucking it under my chin and letting the tears fall as I try to picture my life without Matt.
I can’t.
I can’t imagine my life without his laugh.
His smile. His gentle touch, his passion, his encouragement.
He added all the color to my life.
And now my world feels black and cold without him.
Matt will move on, I think, growing sick at the thought. He’ll find someone else, someone vibrant and beautiful, and he’ll be happy.
I should want this for him, for the man who gave me so much.
But when I think of Matt with another woman, I feel nothing but a stabbing pain in my heart.
How can I move on? How can I move on when he’s the only man I ever wanted to love?
I cry into my blanket, devastation flooding me.
I’ll never have Matt.
And I don’t know how I’ll recover from the loss of his love.
I hear a car pull up in the driveway.
I push myself up, praying it’s not Reese. I know she’s worried about me, but I can’t be with anyone on Valentine’s Day. My mom went home this morning, and I need to be alone. I need to be sad, to mourn, to try to wrap my head around a life without Matt in it.
I go to the large picture window, flipping open the white plantation blinds.
But I don’t see Reese’s car parked in the driveway.
My hand flies to my mouth. My lungs squeeze tight, and my heart stops inside my chest.
It’s Matt.
Matt steps out of his blue Lamborghini, holding a bound stack of papers in one hand. He shuts the door but doesn’t move. Matt stands in the rain, letting it fall down on him, simply staring at my house.
I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what he’s going to say. If that’s my book he’s holding in his hand, I don’t know if he’s going to throw it at me and storm off, rip it up, or tell me he read it and it
meant nothing to him.
But the fact that he’s here tells me I have a chance.
I run to the door and fling it open.
I can’t breathe as I look at him. The rain is soaking him, but he doesn’t move.
My heart is now beating so loudly I can hear it. His eyes lock with mine, and I begin to shake.
“This book,” Matt shouts over the sound of the pouring rain, “doesn’t have an ending.”
I can’t keep the tears at bay. I’m openly crying now.
“The ending,” I choke out, “is up to you.”
“I think,” Matt says, “Calla has a beautiful heart. Heath was so hurt, he lost sight of that. He was used to people using him for gain. What he couldn’t see is that Calla is the only person who loved him for who he is.”
I’m bawling now.
“But when he read her words,” Matt continues, his voice strong, “he knew she was real. Her love was real. His world was black without her, too.”
He stops for a moment, turning his head to the side. I watch him struggle to keep composure, and it tears me apart inside.
Matt turns back to me. “Heath still loves her,” he says, his voice thick with unshed emotion. “No matter what he said, he loves her. And this book should end with them together.”
I can’t stop sobbing.
“And how should we end?” I manage to get out.
“Our story,” he says, his voice now breaking, “is only beginning. I love you, Holly. I love you. You’re the only person I want to write my story with. It has to be you.”
That’s all he has to say. I run down the steps and into the rain, and Matt drops the manuscript as I leap into his arms.
His mouth finds mine, kissing me hungrily in the pouring rain. All the fear, all the heartbreak, all the despair disappears the second he kisses me.
“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth. “I love you so much, Holly.”
Our tears mingle together, and I know this kiss is forever. This is the beginning of our love story, one that will last the rest of our lives.
