It’s not until I’m back in my SUV, staring at the rehab center in my rearview mirror, that the full weight of it crashes down. I’m cleared to play. I need to call Coach, my agent, the team. I need to make arrangements to head back to Boise, to rejoin practice, to slip back into the life that defined me for so long.
Instead, I find myself driving down Kingston Road and pulling over at the lake, at the spot where Sydney and I skated, where I first admitted—to her and to myself—what I really felt.
The lake shines with the moon casting long shadows across its frozen surface. I sit in my SUV, engine running for heat, and try to untangle the mess in my head.
On one side: hockey. The roaring crowds, the adrenaline rush of a perfectly executed play, the brotherhood of the team. The only thing I’ve ever been truly good at, the thing that gives me purpose and identity.
On the other side: Sydney. The way she laughs with her whole body when something really gets her. How she chews her bottom lip when she’s nervous. The fierce determination in her eyes when she’s fighting for something she believes in. The taste of her lips, the feel of her body against mine, the way she trusted me enough to let go completely.
And somewhere in the middle: the life I’ve lived these past three weeks. Commentating for KBVR, spending time with Meema, waking up next to Sydney knowing I don’t have to catch a plane or make morning skate. It’s been more than a vacation—it’s been a revelation. A glimpse of a road not taken, a life I never knew I might want.
The phone in my pocket buzzes, dragging me back to reality. It has to be Meema, probably wondering where I am. Over the moon about the engagement, which will be a boost for her after today’s treatments. But when I check, it’s my agent. I should answer, should tell him the news about my clearance. He’ll be thrilled. Everyone’ll be thrilled.
I stare out at the lake, remembering Sydney’s panic attack, how the sound of a truck horn triggered memories of her accident. I remember how it felt to hold her through it, to be the one person she needed at that moment. How it felt to take her to the cabin, to share that sacred space with someone else for the first time. How right it felt to be inside her in front of the fireplace, her body glowing in the flames.
And with crystal clarity, I finally admit the truth I’ve been running from for almost twenty years: I’m in love with Sydney Holt. Not just the casual, convenient love of our arrangement. Not just the physical attraction that’s always simmered beneath our antagonism. But the real, terrifying, all-consuming kind of love that changes everything.
The kind of love worth sacrificing for.
I start the SUV and pull away from the lake, my decision made. Hockey’s been my life, and it’s my future. But so is Sydney.
Sportscaster jobs exist in Boise too. Or maybe she’d consider staying closer, building something here where we both have roots, and I could commute the half hour to Boise. There are options, possibilities I never let myself consider before.
But first, I need to come clean. About how the thought of returning to the ice fills me with as much dread as excitement. And of course, the thing I don’t talk about. She deserves to know the truth, all of it, before she makes any decisions about her own future. Before she decides if there’s a place for me in it.
I’ll lay everything out, cards on the table, even though it’s terrifying—being that vulnerable, that exposed. And I’ll hope—against all odds, against twenty years of antagonistic history, against my hideous secret that I’ve held from her—that we’re something worth fighting for. It’s the only chance I have of being with the only woman I’ve ever truly loved, even if the chance is microscopically small.
So very small.
24
What's At Steak
SYDNEY
The Velvet Steak is exactly as pretentious as its name suggests—dim lighting, leather booths, and servers who introduce themselves with their first names and life stories. I spot Jonah already seated at a corner table, nursing what looks like straight whiskey and wearing the same expression he had when he found out Santa wasn’t real.Great.
I’m fifteen minutes early, which is on time by Sydney standards, but Jonah’s already halfway through his drink. The newly acquired engagement ring feels like it weighs ten pounds on my finger. I considered taking it off before meeting him because somehow it feels like admitting guilt to a crime I haven’t quite committed yet, but he knows I have it.
“Hey, stranger.” I slide into the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m early.”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even attempt the fake one. “You’re always early,” he says flatly, taking another sip of his amber liquid courage.
“It’s part of my charm.” I flag down a passing server, desperate for alcohol to match my brother’s head start. “Vodka martini, extra dirty, please.”
The silence that settles between us is thick enough to cut with the obscenely large steak knives sitting at each place setting. Jonah stares at me, and I fidget under his gaze, smoothing my napkin.
“This must be serious for you to bring me here,” I finally say, gesturing at our surroundings. “To this expensive ass dinner, which it’s going to be because I’m getting the steak and lobster.”
It’s an attempt at another joke, a callback to childhood when The Velvet Steak was the pinnacle of fine dining in our small town, a place our parents brought us only for major celebrations or serious family talks. The last time we were here together was when Jonah got drafted—champagne and congratulations and Dad crying into his medium-rare porterhouse.
Jonah doesn’t crack a smile. Again. Just continues to stare at me with that unnervingly serious expression that makes him look disturbingly like our father.
“Okay then. It’s that bad.”
My drink arrives, and I take a generous sip, grateful for the burn of alcohol. Liquid courage to face whatever lecture Jonah’s about to give.
“The proposal was an accident, Jonah.” I jump right in because dancing around the elephant in the room is exhausting. “Brooks had Maisie’s ring in his pocket. It fell out during the broadcast. The camera zoomed in. He panicked.” I twist the antique band around my finger. “But it’sgoing to make Maisie very happy.”
