The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 196

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The drive took us away from the suburban streets and into the sprawling countryside. The road stretched endlessly before us, and my eyes kept flickering to Timothy to see his expression. Every time I’d ask where he was taking us, my questions would be met with evasive answers and a growing sense of anticipation.

“It’s about an hour–long drive,” Timothy said finally, though the mystery remained. “You’ll see when we get

there, Evie.”

I sighed, glancing out of the car window at the passing scenery. Any anxiety that I’d been feeling previously had given way to an intense curiosity. “Can’t you at least give me a hint, Timothy?”

He smiled, a faint, enigmatic curve of his lips. “Not yet, Evie. You’ll know when we arrive.”

The anticipation gnawed at me, but I decided to enjoy the ride and let Timothy maintain the shroud of secrecy. I spent the peaceful silence taking note of the rolling hills, dotted with patches of wildflowers.

When the car finally came to a halt, I looked around, trying to decipher our location. My heart skipped a beat when I realized we were parked near a pristine beach. The golden sand stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air.

My surprise was evident in my voice. “Timothy, we’re at a beach?”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with nostalgia. “This is where my mother and I were supposed to go on a trip. She had so many memories of this place, and we always talked about visiting together.”

The realization hit me like a tidal wave. Timothy had brought me here to honor his mother’s memory.

As we stepped onto the beach, a sense of serenity washed over us. The sand was cool beneath our feet, and the salty breeze carried the scent of the sea. I followed Timothy, each step taking us closer to the water’s edge, where the waves crashed with a relentless, rhythmic fury.

He gazed out at the horizon. “This was my favorite beach. Still is, actually,” he said. “She’d take me to it whenever I asked, and we’d just talk about anything.”

I glanced over at him. “She sounds like she was a lovely woman, Timothy.”

He turned to me, a warm smile on his face. “She was, Evie. She was my anchor, the one who always believed in

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sense of gratitude for being here with Timothy, sharing in his memories and his

hand and I returned the gesture. “You’ve always been there for me,

as Timothy and I strolled along the shoreline. The gentle lapping of the waves against the sand served

dress and sandals. The idea of getting wet and sandy seemed impractical in my current

on the other hand, seemed unfazed. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to me and said, “Who said you had to be dressed for the beach to enjoy it?” Without further explanation, he sprinted toward

waves, water dripping from his soaked clothes. His laughter echoed

he called, beckoning for me to

distant memory, was irresistibly inviting. With a tentative smile, I kicked off my shoes and, taking a deep breath, I ran toward the water, jumping in

first time in a long while, I allowed myself to let go. We

had gotten slower, and unable to escape my grasp, I pounced

escape me, huh?” I

spinning me around as I latched onto his front and wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt his hands slip around my thighs for support, and suddenly I was every bit aware of how close we were. I stared into his eyes,

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he said in a whisper, his breath

of my body, igniting a burning desire within me. The feel of his skin against mine only heightened the intensity as his muscles flexed beneath my fingers. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against my own, and for a moment, we seemed to share the same

my voice raspy with unquenched desire. I had to peel myself away, and his hands. were

almost bitterly, at the sign that was propped up on the

fingers interlocked, a trail of wet footprints marking our path. The beach was deserted when we finally made our way back to shore, our bodies glistening with saltwater and sand. Together,

soon

wider, and the feeling of it was almost unfamiliar. “That sounds

near the harbor, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating our path. The air was filled with the tantalizing scent of grilled fish and spices, and

the window, the view of the harbor bathed in the soft, romantic glow of the moonlight. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, as if this were the only important aspect of our lives. Timothy’s eyes held a light that had been missing earlier, and he

he said. “I needed you there,

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