Begin Again

When you grow up with someone your whole life, you learn the small things first.

What they like. What they don’t. How their brain works three steps ahead of everyone else’s. The way they fiddle with the string on their hoodie when they’re nervous. The exact second their jaw tightens before they say something stubborn.

You learn the predictable things.

What they’ll order at the diner. How they’ll react when they’re jealous. Where they’ll stand in a crowded room.

You think you know their patterns.

You think you know their every move.

Until the day Rowan Hayes makes one you never saw coming.

Childhood best friends. High school sweethearts.

“I’ll protect you from everything and anything,” he’d told her once, forehead pressed to hers under the old pier lights. “From anyone.”

Isla Bennett had believed him.

She had always believed that she and Rowan were the kind of story that didn’t end. The kind that stretched from sandbox promises to wedding rings without ever really breaking.

So when they ended things three weeks before her eighteenth birthday—

It didn’t feel like a breakup.

It felt like someone had quietly pulled the tide out from under her.

And even now, months later, the feeling lingered.

Every time she passed the harbor in Port Lennox. Every time she smelled diesel and salt. Every time she saw a number 17 jersey folded at the bottom of her drawer.

Now she stood in front of Crestwood Hall.

Move‑in day.

Massachusetts air instead of Maine wind.

Hawthorne University rose behind her in brick and ivy and expectation.

This was supposed to feel different.

Different than Port Lennox. Different than shared history. Different than him.

But as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder and looked across the quad—

It didn’t feel different.

It felt like standing on the edge of something she wasn’t sure she was ready to step into.

Her eyes drifted before she could stop them.

Across the courtyard.

To the building she’d memorized on the campus map months ago.

Athletic Housing Annex.

Where hockey players lived.

Where Rowan Hayes lived.

Her stomach tightened.

She didn’t know what would happen if she saw him.

Did you nod at someone who once knew the shape of your future?

Did you pretend?

Did you survive it?

She exhaled slowly and forced herself to turn away.

One staircase at a time.

One unlocked door.

One breath.

The freshman dorm was smaller than she’d imagined.

A bed. A desk. A narrow closet that looked like it had never known ambition.

That was it.

It was strange how something so minimal could feel so overwhelming.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out.

Nana.

Isla smiled immediately.

“Hi, Nana,” she said softly.

“There you are. How is my favorite granddaughter doing?”

“I’m your only granddaughter.”

A warm chuckle crackled through the speaker. “Details.”

“I’m good,” Isla said, glancing around the dorm again. “I made it to Hawthorne. Just got into my room.”

“How is it? Does it look like you dreamed it would?”

Dreamed.

Isla had dreamed about college since she was fourteen.

English Literature. Shelves lined with novels. Late nights arguing symbolism. Becoming the kind of teacher who listened. Who noticed. Who didn’t miss the quiet kid in the back row.

And if teaching didn’t work—

She would write.

Not as a hobby. As a calling.

She hadn’t chosen it lightly.

“It’s different,” she admitted. “But good different. The dorm feels… free. Kind of like when I moved in with you and Grandad.”

“That’s how it should feel,” Nana said warmly. “And Rowan? Is it everything he’s ever dreamed of?”

The name landed gently.

Still heavy.

Rowan Hayes.

Five hours of highway between Maine and Massachusetts, and she had thought about him for four of them.

Was Hawthorne everything he’d imagined since they were ten and he’d taped a picture of the arena to his bedroom wall?

Did walking onto campus feel like winning?

“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “I haven’t seen him yet. But he’s been talking about this place since we were kids, so… I think it probably is.”

Someone called her name down the hall.

“I’ve gotta go, Nana. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Isla ended the call and stepped into the hallway just as a tall man rounded the corner carrying two boxes.

“Uncle Colin,” she laughed.

“There she is,” he grinned, setting the boxes down to pull her into a hug. “Isla Bennett in Massachusetts. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“You and me both,” she said. “Welcome to my new home.”

“With fairy lights and about forty books, I assume.”

“Obviously.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

The words settled deeper than she expected.

Proud.

She hoped she could be.

~

Rowan Hayes had imagined this day a thousand times.

Hawthorne’s ice arena glowing under bright lights. His name stitched onto a jersey that meant something. A future that stretched further than the harbor line in Port Lennox.

Hockey had always been his anchor.

He wanted championships. He wanted to coach one day. He wanted to understand the business behind the game, which is why Sports Management had made sense.

But hockey wasn’t the only thing that had shaped him.

Port Lennox had.

The docks. The early mornings. The loyalty of a town that loved hard and long.

And Isla Bennett.

She had been woven into every version of his future.

Until she wasn’t.

The breakup had changed him more than leaving Maine ever could.

It had taught him something he hadn’t wanted to learn:

Loving someone didn’t automatically mean you were good at it.

As he stood outside the Athletic Housing Annex, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he told himself one thing—

Hawthorne was supposed to be about fresh starts.

About growth.

About becoming something bigger than the mistakes you made at eighteen.

He just hadn’t expected that the first person he’d see across the quad—

Would be her.

Standing there.

Looking like freedom and history all at once.

And for the first time since February—

Rowan Hayes had no idea what his next move would be.