“I’m proud to wear the Surge jersey,” he said. “And I hope one day I’ve earned even a small place in the history you’ve all built over the past twenty years.”
The applause hit before he finished the sentence. It rose fast, full-bodied, rolling toward the stage in a way that felt earned instead of automatic. My hands came together harder than necessary. I didn’t care. I clapped until my palms warmed, until my eyes stung, until I was sure he could hear me over everyone else.
He stepped back from the mic, breath leaving him in a visible exhale. As he moved offstage, the music crept back in, conversation blooming again in his wake.
Landon didn’t stop to greet anyone.
He came straight to me.
The space around us shifted as he closed the distance, his presence immediate and focused. His hands found my waist, fingers splayed, steady. The band picked up something slow enough to sway to, and without asking, he drew me with him.
I let him.
The room blurred at the edges, my awareness narrowing to the warmth of his hands and the way his breath brushed my temple when he spoke.
“I know what I said before,” he said. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
I tilted my head back, heart pounding in a way that felt too dangerous to contend with after a few drinks. “You have?”
“Yeah.”
“About what?”
His eyes held mine, unguarded now. The earlier confidence stripped down to something rawer. Closer.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
The words landed heavy, sinking fast.
My heart dropped along with them, the moment collapsing in on itself as reality rushed back in. James.
I swallowed, the heat on my skin turning sharp with regret.
“Landon, I can’t,” I said, voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “I’m seeing someone.”
14
Landon
The rain hammered the Mission Valley windows in sheets, drumming against the roof in a way that rattled the fluorescent lights. Every hallway echoed with hurried footsteps, clipped instructions, rolling carts squeaking over wet floors. The storm wasn’t subtle anymore; it was full-on, relentless, and the hospital felt every bit as stretched thin as the storm outside.
I threaded through the hallways, sneakers squeaking against slick tile, eyes flicking past exhausted nurses juggling charts, IVs, and patients who’d clearly been waiting longer than they should have. My eyes absently scanned for Nicole, but I didn’t hold out any hope I’d spot her in the chaos. Besides, she wasn’t the reason I was here.
Shawn’s room was on the third floor, a corner room with a view of the parking lot where puddles swallowed the lines. The blinds were down, but enough light seeped in to catch the gray sky outside and the occasional streak of lightning. He lay propped on the bed, white sheets pulled to his chest, arm in a sling, bandaged head, and that same sardonic grin he always wore at the rink when he knew he was one-up on someone.
“You made it,” he said, his voice carrying that mix of teasing and irritation he always saved for me. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up after that last cloud burst.”
I felt my stomach tighten just a little. The last thing I wanted was him still carrying heat over my screw-up on the ice. “I owe you, man. Wild horses, and all that.”
“Seriously, dude. Are you okay?” There was a flicker behind his eyes, a realness I hadn’t seen much from him before.
“I’m fine. Still processing the fact that I caused all this.” I gestured to his general state of injury, and gave a humorless chuckle. “And more importantly, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
His laugh was a little pained, a little breathless. “Mad? Nah. You were being a dick on the ice, but that’s nothing new. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”
Relief washed through me sharper than I expected. “Good, because I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Whatever you want.”
“Now that you mention it…” He smirked, eyes moving to the door then back again. “They’ve got me on a controlled diet, and it’s killing me. How about you start that whatever it takes journey, and grab me some Skittles from the vending machine?”
