Updated Feb 24, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Blair
Six weeks. Six weeks since the breakup. Blair was barely functioning. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat. Autopilot. No joy. No life. Just existing.
Amanda had had enough. Cornered her after practice. “You need to do something.”
“I’m working—”
“You’re hiding. There’s a difference. When’s the last time you went out? Saw friends? Did anything besides work?”
Blair didn’t remember. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’re depressed. And I get it. Breakups suck. But it’s been six weeks. You need to start healing.”
“I am healing.”
“No. You’re festering. Big difference.”
Amanda wasn’t wrong.
Sienna visited from Seattle. Took one look at Blair’s apartment and gasped. “When did you last clean?”
“I don’t know. A week?”
“This is not a week’s worth of mess. This is a month.”
Takeout containers everywhere. Laundry piled up. Dishes in the sink. Depression nest. Sienna started cleaning. Blair watched. Numb.
“You need to talk to him.”
“No.”
“Blair—”
“He’s moved on. I need to move on.”
“He hasn’t moved on. Nash says he’s a disaster.”
“Nash is being nice.”
“Nash doesn’t do nice. He’s honest. And honestly, Cal’s as miserable as you.”
That shouldn’t have made Blair feel better. Did anyway.
“What if I call and he rejects me?” Blair asked.
“Then you’re exactly where you are now. Alone. Miserable. At least you tried.”
“Or I make it worse. Open wounds. Hurt us both more.”
“How could it be worse than this?”
Good point. This was rock bottom. Couldn’t go lower.
Meanwhile in Seattle, Cal was equally miserable. Won the Stanley Cup. Should have been the best summer of his life. Wasn’t. Because Blair was gone. Really gone this time.
Nash found him at the gym. 3 AM. Alone. Running drills.
“You ever sleep?”
“Sleep’s overrated.”
“So is destroying your body. What are you doing?”
“Training for next season.”
“Season’s four months away. You need rest.”
“I need to stay busy.”
“You need therapy. Real therapy. Not just exhausting yourself.”
Cal didn’t argue. Because Nash was right.
They grabbed food after. All-night diner. 4 AM pancakes.
“Talk to me,” Nash said.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Bull. You’ve been a zombie for weeks. Since Blair.”
“She ended it.”
“So?”
“So it’s over.”
“Is it? Because you’re acting like someone died. Not like you mutually decided to split.”
“She said she couldn’t do long-distance. Made her choice clear.”
“And you let her go without fighting.”
“I fought for months! Drove to Vancouver every chance! Rearranged my life! What more could I do?”
“Go back. Now. Actually fight. Not just accept defeat.”
“She doesn’t want me.”
“She said she couldn’t handle the distance. That’s not the same as not wanting you.”
Cal was quiet. Was it different? Maybe.
“What if I show up and she’s moved on?” Cal asked.
“Then you have your answer. But what if she hasn’t? What if she’s as miserable as you?”
“Then we’re both idiots.”
“Exactly. So go find out. Either way, you’ll know.”
Cal didn’t go. Not yet. Too scared. What if Nash was wrong? What if Blair really was done? Better to wonder than know for certain.
Two more weeks passed. Eight weeks total since breakup. Both separately miserable. Both too stubborn to reach out. Both drowning in regret.
Blair was at a Vipers’ charity event. Mandatory attendance. Hated it. Fake smiling. Pretending she was fine. Dying inside. A player approached. Dan. Young defenseman. Sweet kid.
“Hey Blair. You okay? You seem… off.”
“Just tired.”
“You’ve seemed tired for weeks.”
“Long off-season.”
“Or bad breakup. I follow hockey news. I know about you and Montgomery.”
Everyone knew. Their relationship. Their breakup. All public.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not. And that’s okay. Breakups suck.”
“Thanks for the wisdom,” Blair said. Not meanly.
“I broke up with my girlfriend last year. Long-distance. Couldn’t handle it.”
Blair was listening now. “What happened?”
“I gave up. Thought it was too hard. Then spent six months miserable. Realized I’d made the worst mistake of my life.”
“Did you get back together?”
“Yeah. Took a lot of groveling. But we figured it out. Found compromises. Made it work.”
“How?”
“By deciding she was worth the hard stuff. And communicating better. Actually talking instead of assuming.”
Simple. But not easy.
That night, Blair almost called Cal. Phone in hand. His contact on screen. Finger hovering. Couldn’t do it. What would she even say? I’m sorry. I love you. I made a mistake. True. But was it enough?
In Seattle, Cal was at a similar event. Team celebration. Cup festivities. Should have been happy. Couldn’t fake it anymore. Stepped outside. Sat alone. Stared at his phone. Blair’s contact. Hadn’t texted in eight weeks. Longest they’d gone without contact since meeting. Felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
A text appeared. Nash: Just call her.
Cal: She doesn’t want to hear from me.
Nash: You don’t know that.
Cal: She broke up with me.
Nash: Because she was scared. Not because she stopped loving you. There’s a difference.
Cal: What if I call and she’s done for real?
Nash: Then you’ll know. Better than wondering forever.
Cal still didn’t call. But he thought about it. Constantly. What would he say? I miss you. I love you. I’ll do anything. Retire. Move. Whatever it takes. Just take me back.
Week nine. Blair broke. Called Sienna crying. “I can’t do this anymore. I need to talk to him.”
“Finally! Yes! Call him!”
“What if he hates me?”
“He doesn’t. He loves you. Nash confirms it daily.”
“You’ve been talking to Nash?”
“Someone has to coordinate you idiots. You’re both miserable and stubborn.”
“I ruined everything—”
“So fix it. Call him. Tonight.”
“What do I say?”
“The truth. That you love him. That you were scared. That you want to try again.”
“What if two years long-distance still breaks us?”
“What if it doesn’t? What if you’re stronger than you think?”
Blair didn’t feel strong. Felt terrified. But Sienna was right. She needed to try.
She called Cal. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. It rang. Once. Twice. He answered.
“Blair?”
His voice. God, she missed his voice.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Silence. Heavy. Awkward. Everything they used to be comfortable with was hard now.
“I’m sorry,” Blair blurted. “For calling. For everything. For giving up.”
“You don’t have to apologize—”
“I do. I panicked. When the trade fell through. I couldn’t see a way forward and I bailed. That was wrong. You deserved better.”
“Blair—”
“Let me finish. Please.”
Cal was quiet. Listening.
“I love you. I never stopped. These past two months have been hell. I’ve been miserable without you. And I know I said I couldn’t do long-distance. But I was wrong. I can. I will. If it means being with you.”
Silence. Too long. Blair’s heart sank.
“Cal?”
“I’m here. Just… processing.”
“Say something. Please.”
“I’ve missed you. So much I can barely function. I won the Cup and all I could think was ‘Blair should be here.’ You’re supposed to be here. Always.”
Blair was crying. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve fought harder.”
“We both should’ve fought harder. Instead we gave up.”
“I don’t want to give up anymore.”
“Me neither.”
Pause. Both breathing. Both crying. Both hoping.
“So what now?” Blair asked.
“Now we try again. Differently. Better.”
“How?”
“By actually communicating. Not assuming. Not running when it gets hard.”
“I can do that.”
“Me too.”
“And the distance?”
“We deal with it. Two years. We can survive two years.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. Because the alternative is this. Being apart. Miserable. Not us. I’ll take hard-but-together over easy-but-apart any day.”
“Me too.”
They talked for hours. Making plans. Setting expectations. Weekly visits. Alternating cities. Better communication. More honesty. Therapy. Both individual and couples. Actually working on their issues instead of ignoring them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder,” Cal said. “When you said you were done, I just… accepted it. I should’ve fought.”
“I’m sorry I quit. I panicked and ran. That’s on me.”
“We both screwed up.”
“Yeah. We did.”
“Can we agree not to do that again?”
“Deal.”
They hung up at dawn. Blair was exhausted. And happy. Really happy. For the first time in months. They were trying again. Actually trying. With a plan. With commitment. This time would be different. It had to be.
Cal texted immediately. I love you. The forever kind.
Blair smiled. I love you too. The marry-you-someday kind.
Someday soon. I promise.
Blair went to work lighter. Amanda noticed.
“You talked to him.”
“How did you know?”
“You’re smiling. Finally.”
“We’re trying again.”
“Good. You were unbearable broken up.”
“Thanks?”
“I mean it as a compliment. You love him. Really love him. That’s rare. Worth fighting for.”
“I know. Took me too long to figure that out.”
Nash texted Cal. About damn time.
Cal: We’re idiots.
Nash: Confirmed. But at least you’re happy idiots now.
Cal: Thanks. For pushing me.
Nash: That’s what friends do. Don’t screw it up again.
Cal: I won’t. Promise.
Week ten. Cal drove to Vancouver. First time seeing Blair in person since the breakup. Both nervous. What if it was different? What if the spark was gone? What if they couldn’t find their way back?
Blair opened her door. Cal was standing there. Flowers in hand. Nervous smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
They stared. Taking each other in. Then Blair launched herself at him. Kissing. Hugging. Crying.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Me too—”
“Never again—”
“Never.”
They spent the weekend reconnecting. Talking. Laughing. Making love. Remembering why they worked. Why they were worth the hard stuff.
“Two years,” Cal said Sunday morning. “We can do two years.”
“We can do anything. Together.”
“Together. Always.”
Cal left Sunday night. Goodbye was still hard. But different this time. Not goodbye. See you soon. Next weekend. Blair’s turn to visit. Then the weekend after. Him to her. Back and forth. Making it work.
Blair waved as he drove away. Not crying this time. Smiling. Because this wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning. Second chance. Better chance. Final chance. They weren’t wasting it. Not this time. This time, they fought. Together. For forever.
Reader Reactions