The Hockey Star’s Remorse by Riley Above Story

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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me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

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I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for being here with Timothy, sharing in his memories and his love for his mother. “I’m honored that you brought me here, Timothy. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He reached for my hand and I returned the gesture. “You’ve always been there for me, Evie. It felt right to have you here today.”

The beach was bathed in 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 as a soothing backdrop to our conversation.

“I’m not 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 current attire.

Timothy, 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 the water and, with a joyful whoop, jumped right in, fully clothed.

I watched in amazement as Timothy emerged from the waves, water dripping from his soaked clothes. His laughter echoed through the salt–kissed air, and his face was illuminated with a childlike exuberance.

“Come on, Evie!” he called, beckoning for me to join him. “The water’s great!”

I hesitated, feeling the warm sand beneath my toes 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 smile, I kicked off my shoes and, taking a deep breath, I ran toward the water, jumping in with a splash.

The moment my feet touched the ocean, I felt an exhilarating rush of both cold and warmth. The salty water enveloped me, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to let go. We raced each other, our limbs propelling us through the water with an infectious enthusiasm.

After a while, Timothy had gotten slower, and unable to escape my grasp, I pounced on him. Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Thought you could escape me, huh?” I teased.

He groaned in fake 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 of how close we were. I stared into his eyes, glimmering with salt and sea, and my jaw began to tremble.

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“I think I captured you instead,” he said in a whisper, his breath fanning across my parted lips.

His hands began to trace the 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 fingers. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against my own, and for a moment, we seemed to share the same air.

“It’s getting late,” I said quietly, my voice raspy with unquenched desire. I had to peel myself away, and his hands. were reluctant as they left my hips. “They have a curfew here.”

He briefly glanced, almost bitterly, at the sign that was propped up on the beach with its listed hours,

With a shared urgency, we waded back to the shore, 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, we collapsed on the sand and stared up at the sky.

“I’m starving,” Timothy declared, and his stomach growled soon after. “How about we find a place to eat?”

I couldn’t help but smile wider, and the feeling of it was almost unfamiliar. “That sounds like a great idea. I’m in.”

We settled on a cozy seafood restaurant 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 sound of clinking glasses and laughter emanated from the bustling eatery.

We were seated by 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 smiled gratefully.

“Evie, I’m really glad you came with me today,” he said. “I needed you there, especially with everything that’s been happening.”

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I smiled in return, my heart warmed by his words. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Timothy. You mean at lot to me, and I wanted to be there for you.”

The waiter approached to take our orders, and as we perused the menu, I couldn’t help but wonder about the question that had been lingering in my mind.

“Timothy, are you really calling off your engagement to Stella?” I asked, recalling his father’s words from earlier.

He met my gaze. “Yes, Evie. I know it’s a big decision, but it’s the right one. There’s a greater purpose in life for

me, one that goes beyond what my family wants for me.”

His words held a profound weight, and he reached across the table to take my hand, a gesture that sent a shock of electricity through my hand and down my spine. “I want to live my life on my terms, without the weight of anger and expectations.”

I squeezed his hand, my heart filled with a mixture of pride and affection. “I admire that. I know it must’ve been difficult, going against your family like that.”

“It was actually easier than expected,” he said, and his thumb traced over mine.

I cleared my throat. “Oh, that’s good.”

“It is,” he continued, his fingers now fully interlacing with my own. “It means I can focus on what’s most important now.”

“Of course,” I ducked my head, avoiding his penetrative gaze as it bore into me. He couldn’t have been any clearer, but I played dumb anyway. “Now you can grief in peace without your family

bugging you.”

“Amongst other things,” he said, giving my hand a light squeeze.

A warm blush reached my cheeks and I turned my head. The deeper undercurrents of our conversation weren’t lost on me. As he talked, I couldn’t help but wonder about the potential progression of our relationship. The events of the day had brought us closer, but I was unsure if I was ready for what might lie ahead.

I decided to lighten the mood by reaching for a biscuit and playfully shoving it into Timothy’s mouth. “Eat up, or I might start helping myself to your plate,” I teased.

Timothy laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He had to retract his hands from mine to remove the biscuit. “Jeez, all right!” he replied, taking a bite out of it.

As we enjoyed our meal, our conversation flowed naturally, and the barriers that had once divided us seemed to have crumbled. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken question that hung in the air, a question that had been there since the beginning. With his family and Stella temporarily out of the way, it left room for something more.

Once our dinner came to a close, the idea lingered in the space between us, unspoken yet undeniable.

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