NEVER STOPPED THINKING ABOUT YOU

~~ARIA~~

I spent the rest of the morning forcing myself to focus. Every time Ward’s name tried to creep back into my thoughts, I pushed it away with my loaded-up task.

By 1:45 PM, the performance center buzzed with quiet energy. Players drifted in for light sessions, laughter echoing from the weight room.

I kept my head down, pretending everything was normal. But my pulse hadn’t slowed since I saw that roster. Every second ticked by like a countdown I couldn’t escape.

At exactly 2:00, the double doors swung open and he finally walked in.

Ward Bennett looked exactly like the man who had once owned my heart, tall, broad-shouldered, with that same confident stride that made the ice feel smaller beneath his skates.

His dark hair was slightly longer now, messy from the wind outside, and a light scruff shadowed his jaw. The same sharp blue eyes that used to look at me like I was the only person in the world scanned the room until they landed on me.

My breath caught and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks, followed immediately by a cold wave of anger so quick it made my fingers curl into fists at my sides. How dare he still look like that? How dare he walk in here carrying the same calm fervor that had once made me feel safe and loved?

I straightened my white coat and stepped forward before he could speak first. After all, this is the only armor I had left.

“Mr. Bennett,” I greeted, my voice stable even though my heart hammered wildly.

“Welcome to the Silver Eagles I am Dr. Aria Vance, Head of Performance. We will start with your intake evaluation and hip assessment. Follow me.”

His eyes flickered with surprise but I didn’t let myself look too closely.

I turned on my heel and led him down the short hallway to the private treatment room, my heels clicking nattily against the tiled floor. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking straight back into the nightmare I had escaped.

The door clicked shut behind us and the small room suddenly felt too intimate and solemn.

The familiar scent of antiseptic mixed with his cologne, the same one he used to wear.

It hit me like a slap, pulling up memories I had buried deep late nights after games when he would pull me close, whispering crazy shit against my skin—the way his laugh used to fill the empty spaces in my chest.

I shoved the thoughts away and gestured to the exam table. “Please have a seat. I need to review your medical history and run some initial tests on that hip.”

Ward didn’t move right away. He stood there, watching me with those intense blue eyes that always saw too much. “Aria…” His voice was low, rough around the edges, like it carried three years of unsaid words. “Can we talk? Just for a minute… before we do this.”

The sound of my name on his lips sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. Anger flared hotter, blending with a painful ache in my throat. Talk? Now he wanted to talk? After three years of silence? After that public statement that painted me as nothing but a cheap publicity trick? After he blocked me everywhere and left me to face the gossip alone?

I turned to face him fully, keeping my expression ice-cold even as my chest tightened with emotion. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Mr. Bennett,” I declared, my tone clipped.

“Your personal history with this team or with me is irrelevant. You are here as a player and I am here to make sure your hip doesn’t end your career early.”

He took a step closer, close enough that I could see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed like he was carrying something heavy. “I know I hurt you. More than I can ever explain right now. But I…”

“Save it.” The words came out harsher than I intended, laced with all the pain I had locked away.

My voice trembled just slightly at the end, betraying me. I hated how vulnerable it made me feel.

“You made your choice three years ago. Loud and clear, in front of the entire league. I have moved on. I suggest you do the same.” I hit the nail on the head at once.

For a moment, a weird expression flashed across his face like a regret so deep it almost looked like guilt.

His jaw clenched, and he looked like he wanted to argue, to reach for me, but he stopped himself. Instead, he nodded slowly and sat on the exam table, the leather creaking under his weight.

“Fine,” he let out quietly. “We will do it your way. For now.”

The “for now” hung in the air like a threat. Or a promise. I wasn’t sure which, and that uncertainty made my stomach flip with a confusing combination of fear and something close to anticipation.

I forced my hands to stay still as I pulled on gloves and began the assessment checking the range of motion, pressing gently around the hip joint, noting every wince he tried to hide. Being this close to him was torture.

His skin was warm under my fingers, his muscles still strong despite the injury. Every touch brought back flashes of intimacy. I didn't want to remember his hands on my waist, his lips brushing my forehead after a hard loss, the way he used to say my name like it was a secret worth keeping.

By the time I finished the basic tests, my chest felt tight and my eyes burned with unshed tears. I stepped back quickly, putting distance between us.

“Your hip is inflamed and showing signs of considerable wear,” I said. “We will start with targeted therapy sessions three times a week. Ice, ultrasound, and strength work. I will adjust as we go.”

Ward looked up at me, his gaze searching my face like he was trying to find the girl he once knew beneath the cold mask I wore now. “Aria… you look good.. I am glad you…”

“Don’t.” The single word came out hoarse, thick with emotion. I turned away, busying myself with my tablet to hide the way my hands were shaking. “Just focus on getting healthy so you can help the team win. That’s all either of us needs to worry about.”

I could feel his eyes on my back, and unrelenting. My heart raced with a dangerous cocktail of anger and the terrifying possibility that three years hadn’t killed what we once had.

Finally, he stood, moving carefully to favor his injured side. “I will see you for the first session tomorrow, Dr. Vance.”

As he reached the door, he paused, one hand on the frame. Without turning around, he added softly, “I never stopped thinking about you. Not for a single day.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood there frozen, my breath coming in short gasps. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. I wiped them away angrily, my chest aching with the consequence of old wounds ripping open.

He never stopped thinking about me?

Then why had he destroyed me so completely?

I sank onto the stool, pressing a hand over my racing heart. The room still smelled like him.