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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but feel a sense of gratitude for being here with Timothy, sharing in his memories and his love for his mother.

the gesture. “You’ve always been there for me, Evie. It felt

the soft, golden hues of the setting sun as Timothy and I strolled along the shoreline. The gentle lapping of the waves against the sand served

exactly dressed for the occasion,” I remarked, glancing down at my dress and sandals. The idea of getting wet and sandy seemed impractical in my

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 the water and, with a joyful whoop, jumped right

water dripping from his soaked clothes. His laughter echoed through the salt–kissed air, and his face was illuminated

on, Evie!” he called, beckoning for me to join him. “The

and the cool breeze on my skin. The sight of Timothy splashing around in the waves, his sadness a distant memory, was irresistibly inviting. With a tentative

feet touched the ocean, I felt an exhilarating rush of both cold and warmth. The salty water enveloped me, and for the first time

unable to escape my grasp, I pounced on

could escape me,

protest, 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

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you instead,” he said in a whisper, his

curves 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

desire. I had to peel myself away, and his hands. were

was propped up on the beach with its

path. The beach was deserted when we finally made our way back to shore, our bodies glistening with saltwater and sand. Together, we collapsed on the sand and stared up at the

his stomach growled soon after. “How about

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

soft glow of lanterns illuminating our path. The air was filled with the tantalizing scent of grilled fish and spices, and the sound of clinking glasses and laughter

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

glad you came with me today,” he said. “I needed you there,

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