There was a time when I thought he was the one. That we would grow old and gray together. He would paint the picture of how our life would look after hockey while we were lying in his bed back in Boston. He wanted us to buy a cabin in upstate New York, or maybe even Vermont, where we could cook together before making love in front of the fire—his words, not mine. But looking back, all he did was feed me with empty promises he was never planning to fulfill. Because the moment I got the call telling me I was heading to Los Angeles, I saw something shutter in his eyes. But I ignored it. I was
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