With seven seconds left, I’m sweating and my pulse is racing. Novak gets possession of the puck, and he gets a breakaway, skating down the ice faster than I’ve ever seen him go.
And then… the lights begin to flash and the horn goes off. The sound of cow bells, noise makers, and applause fills the arena. I let out a long breath, finally feeling like I can breathe again. The guys pile onto the goalie in a mess of limbs and disbelief.
My hands burn from clapping so hard, and I’m grinning from ear to ear like a fucking idiot. I’m proud of these guys. I’m proud of what they’ve overcome, and how hard they’ve worked to get here.
And once again, the only person I want to share this moment with, is Ellie Monroe.
Chapter 36
Jamie
T
he drive home feels longer than usual. It’s quiet and dark, and for once I finally let myself feel. A bit of peace. We won. I don’t care if they sucked pretty much all season, because in that moment, in that game, they did what they needed to do. I need to send the guys a damn fruit basket because whatever they said to the Wolves, worked miracles.
My phone is blowing up with texts from the group chat, and I noticed a missed call from my agent. I’ll call him back in the morning. Tonight, I’m going to revel in this success.
I want to get home and tell her the news, and I want to tell herI love her.
I want to tell her everything.
I want to tell her I wish she was there, that these past fourteen weeks made me realize that I was a fucking loser for leaving her. I want to tell her that healing scares me, because as much as I want to be back, I’m afraid I’ll never play the same again.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
Somewhere between the past and now, she stopped being this memory that I suppressed and started feeling like home. I always thought that the place I felt most at home was on the ice, where I could feel my dad with me, rooting for me. But now it’s the girl I fell in love with when we were fifteen years old. The girl that I was lucky enough to have in my life for all those years. The only girl who looks at me like I’m more than what I do on the ice.
As I pull into the driveway, my heart picks up speed. I’m suddenly feeling nervous, but I can’t pinpoint why.
The house is dark when I walk in, silent. Somehow it feels bigger, and yet I feel claustrophobic.
Tossing my keys on the kitchen counter, I throw my jacket over the back of one of the chairs at the island. For a second I just stand there, just listening, trying to hear footsteps or any signs that she’s awake. It’s late, so I’m sure she’s asleep, but I’m hoping she’s not.
I walk upstairs quieter than necessary, like the floor might betray me if I step too hard. Ellie’s door is closed, a thin line of light underneath.
I should go to my room. Talk to her in the morning, but instead, I just stand here like a fuckingidiot. My hand hovers near the wood as I debate on whether to knock or not.
Because if she opens that door, if she looks at me the way she did when she left the rink the other day after rehearsal, I don’t know if I could keep myself from telling her everything that’s going on inside my head, and I don’t know if she’s ready to hear it.
Back in my room, the silence feels louder.
I sit on the edge of the bed, still wired from the win, from the future, from her. We won tonight. It’s the biggest moment of the season so far. I should be ecstatic, but instead I just feel disappointed.
A slow breath leaves my lungs as I stare at my phone, reading through the messages from the guys.
Rhode Island Stormies
Billy Callahan:Aye, that’s that shit!
Connor Grieves:awooooooooooo.
Theo Cramer:What the hell is that?
Connor Grieves:I’m howling, like a wolf.
Wilder Ranslavic:Go to fucking bed. I’m trying to sleep.
Billy Callahan:Uh oh. Someone’s a grumpy pants.
