Chapter Fourteen
AUSTIN
Wow, that was bad. Probably one of the worst games in the history of the Carolina Bears.
Tonight's loss cut deeper than I have felt in a long time. It wasn't just a loss—it was a complete blowout. And on a personal level, it might go down as one of the most embarrassing performances of my career, and I have no doubt it will be a topic of discussion in the media for a while.
But that’s not what bothers me the most. I hate feeling like I let my teammates down.
And even worse, we let the fans down. They keep showing up for us night after night, spending their money and giving up their evenings because they believe in the Carolina Bears.
They deserve to be entertained and return home happy.
Tonight, we failed at these things, and that hits me hard.
The fact is no one on our team showed up ready to play, including me. Every one of us made mistakes professionals shouldn't make. One after another, we made lazy and rookie moves, and it felt like everything that could go wrong did.
The locker room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound comes from Coach's postgame rant, and even that doesn't last very long. He paces in front of us for a minute, shaking his head in disgust.
"I don't even know where to start," he finally says. “In fact, I’m at a loss for words.”
My teammates exchange a few glances. When Coach Denton has no words, it’s serious.
“We have two away games coming up. You can’t go into another arena and perform like you did tonight. Get it together—no excuses.”
Without another word he walks out leaving us all in shock. Once he's gone, the silence continues. Most of the guys get dressed and ready to leave quickly. Nobody wants to talk or relive what happened out there.
But even after that disaster, a group of loyal fans is still waiting for us outside.
Nick signs a few autographs before heading out with Abby. He's in one of his moods, and she's probably the only person who can talk him down tonight.
The one bright spot of this miserable evening is seeing Isabella. She's standing with her family near the exit, and I do my best to force a smile as I walk over.
"Hello, Martin family," I say. "Thanks for coming tonight. I wish we'd given you a more enjoyable experience."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Mrs. Martin says kindly.
"Yeah," Mr. Martin adds. "Even Michael Jordan had bad games. You'll get them next time."
I laugh. "While I appreciate being compared to Michael Jordan, I'm still pretty frustrated with myself."
He shrugs. "That's probably why you'll bounce back."
I nod, even though I'm not entirely convinced.
"Hey," I say as I step toward Isabella.
"Hi."
What I appreciate most is that she doesn't immediately try to cheer me up. She doesn't tell me everything happens for a reason or that we'll win our next game. She just lets me feel disappointed.
"We just wanted to thank you for the tickets," Dane says.
"Well, based on tonight's performance, I think I owe all of you a few more games."
"That sounds good to me. I accept," Dane says. Sammy grabs his arm before he can continue.
"Good night, Austin,” she says.
"Night. Good to see you."
The rest of the family say their goodbyes, and then it's just Isabella and me.
I glance at her. "Are you heading home too?"
She shrugs. "I don't have to if you want some company, but I understand if you want to be alone."
Normally I would want to be alone, but since she’s here, that’s not the case. "I can give you a ride home later."
Her smile grows. "Okay."
We walk out toward the parking lot together. For the first time all night, the knot in my chest doesn’t feel as tight.
"Do you want to come over for a little while?" I ask. I kind of just want to relax in my own home, but I’d love for her to be there with me.
"Sure," she says.
A wave of calm comes over me. If anything can make me forget the game, it’s spending time with this amazing woman.
“Wow, your place is a lot neater than I expected.”
I grin. “Thank you. I wish I could take credit for it, but it’s all because of Suzanna.”
“Who’s Suzanna?”
“She’s a wonderful lady I hired to help keep the chaos to a minimum. She comes once a week and cleans up after me. She even offered to do my laundry, but I couldn’t subject her to that level of horror.”
Isabella laughs. “That’s very considerate of you.”
“Well, I’m a considerate guy,” I tell her.
Her smile widens.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, opening the refrigerator and waving like a game show host. The shelves are fully stocked with a wide variety of beverages and food.
“Very impressive and so organized,” Isabella points out.
“Suzanna picks up groceries for me,” I admit. “I pay her extra because I absolutely despise grocery shopping. I don’t have the patience for shoppers who take up an entire aisle while they try to choose a cereal. I’d rather clean the house.”
She laughs. “Really? That’s interesting.”
“I know it sounds weird, but we all have our little quirks, right?
She nods. “That’s true. And I’ll try one of those fancy bottles of sparkling water.”
“You got it.”
I grab two bottles and twist off the caps while Isabella wanders through my apartment.
“This is a beautiful view,” she calls from the living room windows.
I join her, handing her the water bottle.
“Thank you. It was one of the two things I wanted when I moved in. I wanted to be close to the arena and have a good view.”
“That’s smart, since you spend so much time at the arena.”
“Exactly.”
She continues exploring while I drop onto the couch. The exhaustion is starting to set in, both physically and mentally.
“Aww. I love this picture of your family.” She carries the frame over and sits down beside me on the couch.
I slide closer to her. “Yes, this is the fam. Meet the Reeds—my parents, Charles and Theresa. That's my brother Logan. That's Brendan. And that extremely handsome guy right there is me.”
She giggles. “Yes, I know what you look like.”
“I’m just making sure.”
Our eyes meet, and we both grow quiet. I take full opportunity to capitalize on this moment and lean over to kiss her. The second our lips touch, everything stops. All the frustration and embarrassment from tonight fades away like it doesn’t even matter.
And kissing Isabella is every bit as good as I remember. It might even be better.
When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against hers. I’m not in any hurry to move away from her. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. I’m sorry if I’m not better company right now.”
Her expression softens. “Do you see me complaining?”
“No.”
“Then stop apologizing.” She lifts her hands and cups my face, forcing me to look at her.
“You need to let yourself be in your feelings. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary.”
Feelings? It takes me a few seconds to figure out that she’s referring to the game and not what I’m feeling for her.
“Feel all of it—the frustration, disappointment, embarrassment,” she continues. “You’re not in front of the camera or the fans.”
I listen because she’s saying exactly what I need to hear tonight.
“You’re right.”
“And I understand what you’re going through,” she says. “I can’t count how many times I pretended I was fine every time I lost a competition, missed a step, or fell during a routine. I’d just get up and shake it off. Then smile for all the photos.”
“Yes, that’s the worst part,” I say, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You're allowed to have a bad night, Austin. And you're allowed to be upset. You don't have to put on a happy face all the time.”
The words hit me hard. Because I need this reminder often.
“I know,” I admit, sinking back against the couch. The knot in my chest continues to unravel. “When I missed that block…” I shake my head and close my eyes. “The second it happened, I knew I blew it and they were going to score. It felt like…”
“Like you failed everyone?”
“Yes. My teammates, the coaches, and the fans.”
She reaches for my hand. “Austin, that one play didn't lose that game.”
“Maybe not, but the thousands of people who watched it happen might think differently.”
“Okay,” she says gently. “Then tell me this. If one of your teammates missed a play and blamed himself for an entire game, what would you say to him?”
I sigh. “I'd tell him that wins and losses belong to the whole team. We are supposed to work together.”
She squeezes my hand. “Exactly.”
“Okay, we can't talk about me all night,” I say. “How are you? Tell me about your day.”
She turns toward me, stretching her booted leg out in front of her.
“It was fine,” she says. “I saw Dexter.”
Just like that, the heaviness starts to return to my chest. Only this time, it's not frustration weighing me down. It’s jealousy hearing that she spent time with her ex.
“Oh?” I ask trying my best to sound casual. “How did that go?”
“Better than I expected,” she tells me. “We both got some closure we didn’t realize we needed.”
Hmm…closure might be a good thing if it means it’s over for good.
“Did Dexter ask about your boyfriend?” I ask playfully.
A shade of pink fills her face. “He had a lot of questions…”
“What kind of questions?”
She shrugs, but a faint smile appears on her face. “My recovery, dance. When I'm heading back to LA. Stuff like that.”
Admittedly, I’m wondering the same thing.
“Have you made a decision about that?” I ask.
She nods. “I’m staying through the holidays. Since I don’t know how long I’ll have before I can return to full activity.”
I grin. “I’m happy to hear that—the part about you staying longer. Not the recovery timeline.”
She giggles.
“Wait. Your doctor appointment is tomorrow, right? Are you ready?”
She groans and covers her face with both hands.
“Yes,” she says through her fingers. “But I’m so nervous about it. What if the doctor tells me I’m not ready?”
I slide a little closer and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Hey, it's going to be fine,” I say softly.
She rests her head on my shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”
“Although,” I add with a grin, “I think I’m actually going to miss the boot.”
She laughs. “Really? Well, you’re the only one.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of become part of who you are.” I gesture toward her injured foot. “People might not even recognize you without it.”
Her nose wrinkles as she frowns. “Very funny.”
She’s even adorable when she frowns.
“I’m serious. You and me and that boot have been through a lot together.”
“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Maybe a little.”
She rolls her eyes, but at least she’s smiling again.
I pull her a little closer. “Anyway, your appointment will go great. Try not to stress.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” I kiss the top of her head. “And no matter what happens, we’re celebrating afterward.”
“Celebrating what?”
“It doesn’t matter. You deserve a celebration for putting up with the boot.”
She snuggles up against my side. “That sounds good to me.”
Our conversation slowly drifts to different topics, everything except hockey.
For the first time since being on the ice, the sting of tonight’s loss has faded.
All the frustration, the embarrassment, the endless replay of mistakes is a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, all that matters is spending time with Isabella.
Being curled up on the couch with her, talking to her, gazing into her eyes, and kissing her.
For now, this is enough to make me forget everything else.