34. Jessica
Chapter thirty-four
Jessica
T he stadium lights have dimmed to a gentle glow, casting a warm light over the empty arena. I look around in awe, taking in the stillness. A few hours ago, this place was deafening, a sea of fans roaring Eric’s name as he scored the winning goal. It was a tight game, but with the way he was playing, it was like he was unstoppable. Now the arena is quiet, almost reverent, with only me and Eric left.
Eric holds my hand as he leads me to the ice, our steps echoing in the empty rink. I hesitate at the edge, glancing down at my skates with excitement. I’ve skated a handful of times, but never with Eric here, never like this.
“Come on,” he says, grinning as he steps onto the ice, his movements graceful and natural. “I won’t let you fall.”
I smile, letting him pull me forward until my skates meet the cool, smooth surface. I wobble a little, instinctively clutching his arm, and he chuckles, his arm wrapping around my waist to steady me.
“Relax,” he whispers, his voice a warm comfort in the quiet space. “I’ve got you.”
Slowly, I start to find my balance, following his lead as he glides backward, never breaking eye contact. He makes it look so easy, like skating’s second nature to him, which it probably is. For a moment, I get a glimpse of what it’s like for him—this is his world, his sanctuary.
As we move together, the weight of the day begins to melt away. The Avalanche’s victory, the crowd, the adrenaline—all of it fades as we skate in the calm silence. The only sounds are our laughter and the faint scrape of our skates on the ice.
“So,” he says, his voice softer now. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”
He stops, pulling me to a gentle halt in the center of the rink. The stadium lights catch in his eyes, making them shine even brighter as he looks down at me, his expression both serious and hopeful.
“I had a call with my mom yesterday,” he begins, his hand tightening on mine. “She told me the producers from that network reached out. They want to make her story into a series—a documentary on sobriety, recovery, life after addiction. They want to focus on her work at the rehab center, everything she’s built there.”
“Oh, Eric,” I breathe, feeling a surge of pride for Linda, for all she’s overcome. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for her.”
He nods, a glint of pride in his eyes. “It’s thanks to your dad, you know. He’s the one who used his connections to make it happen. It’s like…everything’s come full circle. My mom’s story—our story—might actually inspire other people now. Maybe it’ll even help someone who’s struggling as a teen mom in addiction, just like she was.”
The gratitude in his voice pulls at my heart, and I squeeze his hand. I know what this means to him, his mother’s past finally shifting from something painful to something powerful.
“My dad really did come through, didn’t he?” I say, smiling softly. “It feels like he’s back to being the dad I grew up with, the one who made everything feel stable and grounded. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.”
Eric nods, looking at me with that gentle understanding that seems to come so naturally to him. “It’s been good for him to have someone like you to remind him of that.”
My cheeks flush, warmth spreading through me at his words. Being with Eric has brought out parts of myself I thought I’d buried a long time ago. I feel softer, less prone to shut down emotionally to keep the peace. And standing here with him, I feel it even more—the sense that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
We begin to skate again, this time moving more slowly, just enjoying the quiet moment together. Eric wraps his arm around me, guiding me with a patient gentleness that makes my heart race.
“You know,” he says, his tone playful now, “you’re actually not terrible at this.”
I laugh, nudging him lightly. “Coming from Mr. Hockey Superstar, I’ll take that as a high compliment.”
He chuckles, holding my hand as we continue to glide across the ice. Here, with him, everything feels simple.
Eric stops us again on center ice, this time turning to face me fully. His hands rest on my hips, his gaze locked on mine, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s something he wants to say, something he’s holding back.
“Jessica,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble full of affection. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I say, my own voice catching in my throat.
He takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine. “Would you be my girlfriend? For real this time, no contracts, no pretending. Just us.”
My heart swells, and for a moment, I’m speechless. This is real. This is him asking me to be part of his life, to be more than just a convenient arrangement or a temporary fix. This is Eric, vulnerable and open, asking for something that feels as big and real as anything I’ve ever known.