"I've had six days and nothing else to think about." Mac's jaw tightened. "I'm not losing her, Cole. Not to Derek Matthews. Not to her fear. Not to my own stupidity."
"What are you going to say?"
Mac set down his phone. "I've been rehearsing. I know exactly what I need to tell her. That I'm sorry. That I should never have doubted her. That I should have fought for us instead of running when things got hard." He paused. "That I love her. That I'm not going anywhere. That she can take all the time she needs to heal, but I'll be right there, waiting, fighting, whatever she needs."
"That's good, Mac."
"It has to be. This is my shot." Mac ran a hand through his hair. "After the game. Everything will be ready. Sunflowers, lights, the speech. I'll have just come off the ice, pumped full of adrenaline from beating Burlington.It'll be perfect."
"What if she's not ready?"
"Then I'll wait. But at least she'll know I'm not giving up." Mac's voice was firm. "I walked away once. I'm not making that mistake again."
Cole studied him for a moment. "You really love her."
"More than anything." Mac looked at his notes again, at the carefully planned timeline, the backup plans, the speech he'd rewritten seventeen times. "So yeah. Tomorrow night. After we destroy Burlington on their own ice. That's when I get her back."
But Mac wasn't excited as he usually was before a game. And he knew exactly why.
The game was just the first part. The easy part.
Winning Rachel back? That was the game that really mattered.
And he couldn't afford to lose.
51
Day Seven - Mac
Mac laced up his skates in the locker room, his mind not on hockey.
Seven days since Rachel had walked out that door to meet Brad. Seven days since everything fell apart.
Seven days of nothing. But he had a plan.
"You ready?" Cole asked, appearing beside him.
"No. But I'll play anyway."
"At least you won't have to see Brad Reese on the ice," Cole said. "Heard he's out with a groin injury. Won't be playing tonight."
Mac's shoulders relaxed slightly. One less complication. "Good. I don't need that distraction."
"Still doesn't mean Burlington will be easy."
"I know."
Mac stepped onto the ice, the cold air hitting his face, the familiar smell of the rink; ice, rubber, sweat.
He scanned the crowd out of habit, looking for Rachel's face. Empty seat where she usually sat. Fifth row center. Her spot.
Mac's chest tightened. She doesn't know yet. Won't know until after, when he shows up at the library with his carefullyrehearsed apology and his grand gesture and his heart on his sleeve.
Win the game first. Then win her back.
In that order.
The puck dropped and Mac threw himself into the game with desperate intensity.
