And I’m going to be in the stands for every single game.
No Taking It Back
Bennett
You can always tell when something’s finally settled into place. Not because people say it out loud. Because they stop checking. Stop second-guessing. Stop looking around to see who’s watching. Around here, that’s whenyou know it’s real. When someone chooses the same thing twice… without being asked.
Playlist: “Shut Up and Dance” by WALK THE MOON
The alarm goes off at 5:47, and I’m already awake.
Not because I couldn’t sleep—I slept better than I have in months, actually. But because the energy in my body is different this morning. Not the coiled tension I’ve carried for three years. Something else. Something lighter.
I go through my routine. Coffee, stretching, the familiar patterns that have structured my mornings for as long as I can remember. But they feel different now. Less like a cage I’ve built to contain myself, more like... just habits. Just ways of starting the day.
The difference is subtle, but it’s everything.
By the time I walk into the rink, I’ve already texted Gisele twice. Nothing important—just checking in, asking about her morning, doing the normal things that couples do. The word still feels strange in my head. Couple. Girlfriend. Mine.
But good-strange. I’ve been calling her my girlfriend in my head all morning. Testing the word. Waiting for it to feel wrong.
It doesn’t. The kind of strange that comes from finally letting yourself have something you wanted.
The locker room falls quiet when I push through the door.
Not the usual quiet—the tense, watchful silence that used to descend whenever I walked in wound too tight. This is different.Curious. The guys are looking at me like they’re not sure what to expect.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning.” Boone’s the first to respond, his tone careful. Assessing.
I cross to my locker, start pulling out gear. Normal movements. Normal rhythms. But I can feel them watching, cataloging whatever changes they’re seeing.
“You look different,” Shep says finally.
“Do I?”
“Less like you’re about to murder someone.” He tilts his head. “More like you might actually be human.”
“Shocking revelation.”
“It really is.” He grins. “So. The group text yesterday. That was something.”
Here it is. The moment I’ve been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. The follow-up to my very public declaration, delivered to forty of my closest friends and teammates.
The old me would have deflected. Made a joke. Changed the subject.
“Yeah,” I say simply. “It was.”
Silence. Then Heath, from across the room: “So you and Gisele, huh?”
“Me and Gisele.”
“About damn time.”
The words come from Holden, delivered with the easy warmth he brings to everything. I turn to find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like he’s been waiting for this moment for years.
He probably has.
