Shane had sighed and tugged me closer, kissing my hair. He always listened. He never rushed me.
I confessed to him that same night that I’d gotten so used to being alone.
I’d also confessed I was glad to not be alone now.
Because every day after classes, every weekend, every night after practices or games — he was there with me. We studied and talked. We laughed and played.
We kissed.
A lot.
And it was sort of like walking in a dream. I’d never known what it was to be the center of someone’s world until Shane McCabe.
True to his word, the Eagles made it to the Championship game. And true to mine, I followed them to Wisconsin. Shane refused to let me pay for my own plane ticket, but I refused to let him get my hotel room. We compromised, and my heart wasin my throat, my eyes wide as I watched him skate in an arena swallowed by red jerseys and deafening Wisconsin chants.
They fought hard, but when the horn sounded on a 2–1 loss, the crowd roared, gloves and sticks flying from the Badgers as they swarmed their goalie. On the other end, the Eagles slumped over their sticks, stunned into silence.
Just like that, his dream of the Championship was gone.
Shane carried the weight of it visibly when he finally made it back to the hotel. I was waiting for him in the lobby as he dragged himself in, his shoulders slumped, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. His headphones dangled, the cord snaking over the Eagles logo on his chest before disappearing into his pocket. His eyes were dark and tired, like the arena lights had burned the shine out of them. When he saw me, the corner of his lips quirked like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
I opened my arms, and he fell into them without hesitation, this massive hockey player folding into me like a sad little boy.
“We were so close, Ari,” he rasped, shaking his head. “One goal.”
“I know,” I whispered, hugging him tighter.
For a while, we just stood there, and I didn’t dare be the one to break the hug first. After a while, Shane stood tall with a sigh, wrapped his hand around mine, and wordlessly led me to the elevator.
Without either of us saying it, we went to my room. Shane dropped his bag once we were inside, and then he fell face-first onto the bed with a huff.
I was going to suggest a shower, but judging by the damp state of his hair, he’d already taken one at the arena. So, instead, I climbed on top of him and started rubbing his shoulders and his back, giving him the space he so often gave me to work through his feelings.
“I know you’re hurting right now,” I said. “I know this loss must gut you in a way I’ll never understand. But can I say something?”
Shane didn’t answer verbally, but turned his head so his cheek was against the mattress.
“I’m proud of you,” I said. “Win or lose, that was one hell of a game you played. I… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“To be fair, you’ve never been to a hockey game.”
“And now I see what I’ve been missing out on.” I smiled, still working his shoulders. “You… you were incredible, Shane. I don’t think I got it before, but I see it now — how important hockey is to you, how much the game means. You come alive out there in a way you don’t anywhere else.”
Shane tapped my thigh to let me know to hop off him, and then he rolled to face me. He was laying down, head propped on his hand, and I sat next to him with my legs tucked beneath me.
“Hockey is all I’ve ever had,” he admitted, his nostrils flaring a bit as he wrangled his emotions. “When my parents died, my grandparents threw me into it because they just wanted me to be busy and leave them alone. But they didn’t realize that in their selfishness, they gave me my lifeline.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had anything mean as much to me as hockey does.” He swallowed then, his eyes searching mine. “Until you.”
“Shane…”
“I mean it, Ari.” He sat up then, one hand reaching forward to hook around the back of my neck and bring me to him until our foreheads were touching. “You being here tonight… it meant everything to me. I don’t want to do anything ever again without you, not now that I know what it’s like to be with you. Hockey saved me,” he said, voice rough. “But you… you’re bringing me back to life.”
I winced as if the words had pained me, but they only lit a fire in my heart because I felt the same way for him.
And I only knew one way to tell him.
With my hands crawling into his hair, I tugged him closer, and I kissed him.
It was soft at first, a brush of lips that carried every unspoken word inside me. But when he sighed against my mouth and pulled me closer, I deepened it, climbing into his lap without hesitation. His hands trembled where they held my waist, and mine shook just as badly as they curled into his damp hair.
