Chapter 4

Keane never came home that night.

He walked through the door at dawn, carrying the faint scent of a woman's fruity floral perfume.

He saw me on the couch, his expression cold. "Have you calmed down yet?"

I was booking a ride on my phone without looking up.

He scoffed. "Maeve, I'm honestly curious. I have plenty of female fans. Are you planning to get jealous of every single one of them?"

I finally looked at him. "Keane, you still don't get it. Mia being your fan was never the problem."

"Then what is?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea how hard she cried last night because of what you said? She's just a fan who likes me, Maeve, not your imaginary rival. Come with me and apologize."

"I did nothing wrong. Why would I apologize?"

He raked a hand through his hair and dropped onto the sofa. "I've got a magazine cover shoot today, but I'm off next week. Haven't you always wanted me to teach you hockey? If you apologize to Mia, I'll teach you. Sound fair?"

I froze.

Teach me hockey?

Back when we first started dating, I'd wrapped myself around his arm and begged him to teach me.

He'd smiled, ruffled my hair, and promised, "When I get some time off, I'll take you to the rink. You can use my spare stick. I'll teach you myself."

That promise had been sitting there for five years.

Now he was using it as a bargaining chip to make me apologize to another woman.

"What, not good enough? Mia's asked me to teach her too, and I turned her down."

I looked at him steadily. "Then teach Mia. I'll pass."

He shot to his feet. "Maeve, this is your one and only chance. Walk away now, and don't come begging me later."

"I won't."

He glared at me before disappearing into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower roared to life.

I picked up my bag and left alone for my follow-up appointment at the hospital.

After collecting my test results, I headed toward the consulting room. Then I caught sight of two figures at the end of the corridor. The sight made my eyes sting.

Keane was supporting Mia as they slowly made their way toward Orthopaedics.

The man who'd claimed he had a magazine cover shoot was spending the morning escorting another woman around the hospital instead.

I slowed my steps and followed from a distance. Mia's voice drifted back, soft and sweet. "Keane, you canceled your photoshoot just to come with me today. Are you sure that's okay?"

"It's fine," he said gently. "There'll be other cover shoots. Your foot is more important."

I'd never heard him speak so softly.

I walked into the restroom, face blank.

I'd barely turned on the tap when Mia hobbled in on her crutch.

"So," she said smugly, "do you see it now? Keane cares more about me."

She tilted her head, gloating. "You know I only pretended to pass out last night? He stayed and looked after me all night.

"The front-row family seat you've wanted for years? He gave it to me twice without even thinking about it. And there'll be plenty more."

She held out her phone. A message from Keane had just come through. "Are you okay? What's taking so long? Want me to find a woman to go in and help you?"

She smiled triumphantly. "See how much he cares about me? I've been in here three minutes, and he's already this worried."

I let out a fake smile. "Congratulations. I hope the two of you are very happy together."

I shook the water off my hands and walked out. Keane was waiting outside.

He saw me, and his face changed. "Maeve, what are you doing here?"

I didn't answer. I tried to walk past him, but he caught my wrist. For the first time since we'd met, I heard genuine panic in his voice. "Maeve, listen to me. It isn't what you think."

I yanked my hand free. Behind us, Mia called softly, "Keane."

He leaned close and murmured, "Go home. I'll explain everything when I get back."

I said nothing. I turned and walked away. I never looked back. I never slowed down.

When I got home, I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight for the airport.

Just before boarding, I sent Keane one final message. "We're done. The friends-and-family seat is yours. Give it to whoever you want."

The instant the message went through, I blocked his number.

The plane rolled down the runway, gathered speed, and rose into the clouds.

I watched the endless sea of white outside my window and let out a long, quiet breath.

Five years spent hiding in the corner of the stands, chasing him through the viewfinder, had finally come to an end.

From now on, my camera would belong to mountains, oceans, and every road waiting to be explored. Never again would I waste another frame capturing someone else's glory.