Maisie’s fingers brush over the stitching. She smiles, tilting her head. “You know I’m not a hockey fan, right?”
I laugh. “Don’t break my heart, Freckles. Hockey’s the best damn sport in the world.”
“Mmm.” She chuckles, taking the puck from my hand. “I’m just kidding. Thank you, Austin. Seriously, I…” She trails off, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. “I didn’t think anyone would be here. And you?—”
“I’ll always be here for you, Mais,” I say, stepping in closer. My voice goes quiet without meaning to, eyes flicking down to her mouth—the same one I kissed not even a week ago. The same one I still think about way too often.
“So,” she says, raising her brows, that teasing glint slipping into her voice. “Does this mean I have to come to one of your games now?”
I chuckle, reach up, and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush her skin for half a second too long. “Hell yes, it does.”
She smirks, that little spark lighting up in her eyes. “We’ll see.”
I bump her shoulder lightly. “We both know you’ll say yes.”
Maisie rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. She turns toward the locker room, but not before glancing back at me. One last look. One last soft smile that curls at the corners of her mouth and punches straight through my chest.
And then she’s gone.
But my eyes stay on the spot she left, already counting down the seconds until I get to see her again.
25
AUSTIN
Ihaven’t played in a month.
Thought I’d be rusty and slow as fuck. Figured my legs would feel heavy, my timing would be off, my rhythm shot to hell. But the second my blades touch the ice, it all just… clicks.
Like my body remembers. Like it’s been waiting.
My legs know what to do. My hands remember how to handle the stick. My body locks into place, like it never left. It’s like the last few weeks didn’t happen. Like I didn’t screw everything up. Like I wasn’t benched for weeks and forced to sit on the sidelines while everyone else kept going.
I didn’t think I’d play again this season. I honest-to-god thought Coach would sideline me permanently. Let me rot in my own mistakes.
But here I am.
The student section is on their feet and Coach is yelling and the puck is ours and—holy shit, we’re winning.
I shouldn’t be surprised. The guys played just fine without me.
The moment I take a pass from Logan, twist around the defenseman, and bury the puck top shelf, it’s like every part of me exhales.
I’m back.
And I’m fucking starving for it.
The crowd is loud tonight, louder than I remember, but I don’t scan the stands until the first whistle blows and I’m skating back to the bench.
And that’s when I see Maisie sitting in the front row.
I asked her to come, and she told me she would, but seeing her here for real is making my stomach flutter.
She’s here.
For me.
Our eyes meet and I flash a grin.
