CHAPTER 18
Jul 10, 2025
KAT’S POV
I’d been walking faster than usual after my last class, my books clutched tightly against my chest. The weight of everything that had happened in the past few days felt overwhelming, and all I wanted was to get back to my dorm room where I could process it all in private.
“Kate,” Nate’s voice called out behind me. “Wait up.”
I stopped reluctantly, turning to face him with what I hoped was a normal expression. “Hey, Nate. How were your classes?”
“Never mind my classes,” he said, studying my face with those perceptive brown eyes that missed nothing. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting strange all day.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, but even I could hear how forced my voice sounded. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, stepping closer. “You won’t look at me, you barely touched your lunch, and you’ve been walking around like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. What happened?”
I felt tears starting to gather behind my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.”
“Kate.” His voice was gentle but insistent. “Talk to me. Please. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”
For a moment, I considered telling him everything – about the night with Liam, about the confusing mix of emotions I was feeling, about how everything seemed so complicated now. But I couldn’t find the words.
“Can we go somewhere private?” I asked quietly. “I don’t want to have this conversation where people can hear us.”
Nate nodded immediately, leading me to a quiet corner of the library where we could talk without being overheard. We settled into chairs facing each other, and I tried to gather my thoughts.
“I’m still hurt,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “From everything that happened yesterday. From finding out about your research, from feeling like I’ve been living in a lie.”
Nate’s face crumpled with guilt. “Kate, I—”
“I’m not angry anymore,” I continued, cutting him off. “I understand why you did what you did. I understand the pressure you’re under, the desperation to find any advantage that might help your career. But understanding it doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nate said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m so fucking sorry for everything. For lying to you, for using you, for making you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”
“I know you are,” I said softly. “I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. But sorry doesn’t undo what happened. It doesn’t take away the fact that our entire relationship was built on deception.”
“Not entirely,” Nate said desperately. “Kate, yes, I had ulterior motives when we started this. But my feelings for you – those became real.”
I looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his expression, the genuine remorse that radiated from every line of his body. “When?” I asked. “When did it become real for you?”
Nate was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about his answer. “I think it was during that first lunch with my friends,” he said finally. “Watching you laugh with Jessica, seeing how naturally you fit in with everyone. You weren’t performing then – you were just being yourself. And I realized that I actually liked that person, not just the idea of dating Viktor Melnyk’s daughter.”
“But you still wanted the training opportunity,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” he admitted without hesitation. “I won’t lie to you about that anymore, Kate. The opportunity to work with your father is still something I want desperately. But wanting that doesn’t negate my feelings for you.”
I studied his face, looking for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation. But all I saw was honesty and vulnerability and something that looked like genuine affection.
“I’m scared,” I said quietly. “I’m scared of trusting you again and having you disappoint me. I’m scared of letting my guard down only to find out this is all still just a game to you.”
“It’s not a game,” Nate said firmly. “Kate, I swear to you, this isn’t a game anymore. My feelings for you are real, and they’re separate from anything having to do with your father or hockey or any of the other complications in our lives.”
“How can I believe that?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly. “How can I trust that you’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear?”
“Because I’m not asking for anything,” he said simply. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, I’m not asking you to trust me again, I’m not asking you to continue our arrangement. I’m just telling you the truth about how I feel, with no expectations attached.”
I felt tears starting to slide down my cheeks, and I wiped them away impatiently. “This is all so complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Nate said gently. “We can end this right now if that’s what you want. We can go back to being strangers, or we can try to be friends, or we can figure out something else entirely. Whatever you need, Kate. Whatever will make this easier for you.”
“And if I said I wanted to end everything between us?” I asked. “If I said I never wanted to see you again?”
“Then I’d respect that,” he said without hesitation. “It would kill me, but I’d respect it.”
“Would it really kill you?” I asked, studying his face. “Or would you just be disappointed about losing your connection to my father?”
“It would kill me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Because somewhere along the way, I started falling for you. Really falling for you. And the thought of losing you – not the opportunities you represent, but you as a person – scares me more than anything else.”
The admission hung in the air between us, raw and honest and completely unexpected. I stared at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the fear that I might reject what he was offering.
“Nate,” I whispered, not sure what to say.
“I know the timing is terrible,” he continued, his words coming out in a rush. “I know I have no right to tell you how I feel after everything I’ve done. But I needed you to know that this isn’t just about hockey or training or advancing my career anymore. This is about you, and how you make me laugh, and how you challenge me to be better than I am.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly. “I just needed you to know the truth. All of it. The ugly parts and the complicated parts and the parts that make me vulnerable.”
I looked at him sitting there in the quiet corner of the library, his heart laid bare, offering me honesty without asking for anything in return. And I realized that maybe this was what real feelings looked like – messy and complicated and scared, but genuine.
“I need time,” I said finally. “I need time to process everything that’s happened, to figure out what I want and what I’m ready for.”
“Take all the time you need,” Nate said immediately. “I’ll wait. However long it takes, I’ll wait.”
“What if I decide I can’t do this?” I asked. “What if I decide the complications aren’t worth it?”
“Then I’ll accept that,” he said, though I could see the pain the possibility caused him. “But Kate? I hope you’ll at least consider the possibility that something real and good could come out of all this mess. Something worth fighting for.”
As I gathered my books and prepared to leave, I found myself thinking about his words. Something real and good. After weeks of fake relationships and hidden agendas and careful performances, the idea of something genuine was both terrifying and appealing.
“Nate?” I said as I reached the edge of our secluded corner.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For being honest with me. For not trying to make excuses or manipulate me into forgiving you. It means more than you know.”
“Thank you for listening,” he replied. “For giving me the chance to explain, even when you had every right to just walk away.”
As I left the library and made my way back to my dorm, I couldn’t stop thinking about the sincerity in his voice when he’d said he was falling for me. It changed everything and nothing all at once, adding another layer of complexity to a situation that was already impossibly tangled.
But maybe, I thought as I climbed the stairs to my room, complicated didn’t necessarily mean hopeless. Maybe it just meant that whatever came next would be worth the effort it took to figure it out.
