14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
JACKSON
T he locker room buzzes with the kind of energy only playoff season can bring.
“Hey, Jacks!” Russo calls from across the room. “You bringing the girlfriend tonight?”
“Only if you promise to behave.” I reply, pulling on my pads.
Coach Barrett steps in, and the room quiets. “Alright, listen up. We made it into the playoffs. Now it’s time to dial in. The real work starts today.”
A chorus of agreement rumbles around me as he continues, “We’re zeroing in on everything this week: film sessions, extra ice time, special teams work.”
I stand slowly, grabbing my helmet from the shelf, my focus settling into something familiar and reassuring. Hockey’s always been my safe ground, the place where I know exactly who I am.
But even as I head out to the ice, I can’t stop the voice at the back of my mind whispering that maybe something else is starting to matter, too.
Practice is intense today. Every drill feels sharper, every pass harder. I throw myself into the rhythm, letting my muscle memory take over as my skates slice across the ice.
The steady beat of sticks on ice and the rush of breath around me are familiar, grounding, but even that isn’t enough to shake Ava completely from my mind.
I can’t shake the image of her trusting me when she slipped on the ice and that smile when I invited her to dinner.
I glide backward, eyes on Russo as he charges forward, puck controlled expertly on his stick. I angle toward him, timing my approach carefully.
At the last second, I pivot, intercepting his path and steal the puck cleanly.
Russo groans loudly, skating past me with exaggerated annoyance as I flick the puck across the ice to Johnson, the rookie winger open on the other side.
"Nice move, Hart!" Coach calls from the boards. "Exactly the kind of hustle we need. Keep it precise, boys!"
I nod once, breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping as we cycle back into position. Russo glides up beside me, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove.
"Come on, man," Russo mutters, nudging me good-naturedly with an elbow. "Take it easy. Save some energy for the playoffs."
I smirk, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension there. "Maybe if you hustled a little harder, I wouldn't have to embarrass you out here."
Russo chuckles dryly, shaking his head.
I pivot fast, my skates scraping ice as I cut hard around the cones set up for agility drills.
My thoughts drift back to Ava. This fake dating plan is supposed to keep her safe. That's it.
Just me stepping into my old role as her protector.
But every time I close my eyes, I see the way she looks at me. It’s not the grateful smile of the shy girl I shielded from school bullies anymore. It feels like something deeper.
The whistle cuts through the air, pulling me back to reality. Coach Barrett waves us toward the bench, signaling the end of practice.
"Good hustle today," Coach says firmly, looking around at each of us. "Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, we get back to work. We've got a long road ahead."
There’s a murmur of agreement through the team. I glance down the line of tired, determined faces. Russo, Johnson, Stevens, O’Connor, and the others. Each guy nods solemnly, already mentally preparing for the grind ahead.
As we skate off toward the locker room, Stevens catches up to me, knocking his shoulder lightly into mine.
"So, you're bringing your girlfriend tonight, huh?" he says, lifting an eyebrow. "Elena met her at the last game and said she felt like someone she’d want to hang out with.”
I smile, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Yeah. Ava's coming."
Russo’s smirk deepens. “Lauren met her at the game too. Said she’s way too classy for you.”
Stevens chuckles, elbowing Russo. “Not like that’s a high bar.”
I shake my head, flipping them the bird over my shoulder, but I'm smiling. It's easy to joke like this, to fall into familiar locker-room banter, even as my heart races at the thought of Ava meeting everyone tonight.
When I get back to my locker, Russo is already there, stripping off his gear. He glances up, studying me for a beat too long. "First team dinner with the girlfriend. Big step."
"Relax," I say dryly, fighting the urge to deflect. "It’s just dinner."
I turn away, busying myself with packing my gear, but Russo’s words linger in my mind.
Because he’s right. This is a big step.
One I haven’t taken since Claire passed.
Two years of sitting alone at dinners, avoiding sympathetic looks and awkward silences.
Fake or not, tonight is about more than dinner. Tonight means letting someone into a space I've kept carefully closed off for a long time.
I grab my phone, and a text
from my mom catches my eye.
Congrats on playoffs! I know your dad would have been over the moon. Love you.
A slow breath catches in my chest as I respond.
Thanks, Ma. Love you too.
I slip the phone into my bag, her words settling somewhere deep, warm and solid in my chest.
Then I finish packing and head for the door.
The house is quiet when I get home. Voices drift faintly from upstairs: Miss Taylor, probably helping Liam and Noah get settled after school, but it’s Ava’s presence I find myself instinctively searching for.
I grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with cold water, and drink half of it in one go. My reflection stares back from the kitchen window, slightly tense, clearly anxious. I set the glass down a little harder than intended.
“Jackson?” Miss Taylor’s quiet voice startles me. I turn to see her smiling knowingly from the kitchen doorway.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I lean against the counter. “How were the boys today?”
“Good. A little wild, but nothing I couldn’t handle,” she replies. “Big night tonight?”
I shrug. “Just a team dinner.”
“I’ll make sure the boys behave. You two enjoy yourselves.”
Miss Taylor leaves quietly, disappearing down the hall. I head down the hall and push open the boys’ door. Liam’s at his desk frowning over a worksheet while Noah tries to shoot a crumpled paper ball into the laundry hamper.
“I’m here to help with homework,” I say, ruffling Liam’s hair as I cross the room.
We spend the next while untangling a math problem and discussing which dinosaur would make the best pet.
By the time the clock hits seven, I’m back downstairs, straightening the cuff of my shirt with a restless energy under my skin. When I head down, Ava’s already in the entryway, standing near the door with her coat in hand.
The sight of her stops me in my tracks.
She looks beautiful, her dark hair loose, a soft blush on her cheeks, eyes bright but uncertain. For a moment, I just stare.
“Too much?” she asks nervously, shifting under my gaze.
“No.” My voice comes out lower than intended. I clear my throat, managing a more normal tone. “You look great.”
Her smile is shy but real. “Thanks. So do you.”
We linger a second longer, an electric quiet settling between us. Then, breaking the tension gently, I grab my keys from the bowl by the door and reach to open it. “Ready?”
She nods, slipping into her coat. “Ready.”
Outside, the cool evening air steadies me as we walk toward my car. I open her door without thinking, a small gesture that feels strangely intimate.
As we pull away from the house, Ava settles into the seat beside me, quiet but not uneasy. I steal a glance, noticing the faint smile still playing on her lips.
The car falls into an easy silence as we head toward the restaurant, and I realize being here with her feels natural.
The restaurant hums with laughter as we walk in, Ava beside me, heels clicking softly against the polished hardwood.
“You okay?” I ask quietly, placing my hand lightly at the small of her back. The gesture feels more real than pretend, and I try not to overthink that.
She glances up at me, eyes bright but nervous. “Yeah. It’s just been a while since I’ve done anything like this.”
“You’ll be great,” I reassure her, leading her toward the group gathered near the bar.
Russo sees us first, his face splitting into a wide grin as he approaches with his wife, Lauren, by his side. “Jacks, finally! Thought you might’ve changed your mind and skipped the whole thing.”
“And miss your jokes?” I deadpan. “Not a chance.”
Russo laughs, but his eyes quickly shift to Ava, curiosity clear in his expression.
“I’m Russo, by the way. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He flashes a teasing grin at Lauren. “Lauren’s been dying to have another sane person around here.”
Lauren rolls her eyes playfully, nudging Russo’s arm before turning warmly to Ava. “Ignore him. It was great meeting you the other night at the game, and it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too,” Ava says softly, her smile genuine.
As Ava and I sit across from them, Russo leans closer, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I promise I won’t give you too much trouble tonight.”
I give him a pointed look. “You better not.”
The private dining room hums with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional scrape of silverware. Ava sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush. Each subtle touch sends a jolt through me, something I didn’t expect but can’t seem to ignore.
The team and their partners fill out the long table, platters of steaks, salads, and fresh bread passed around amidst easy conversation.
Next to Ava, Elena Stevens leans in, saying something quietly that makes Ava laugh. A real laugh, the kind that crinkles the corners of her eyes.
Ava fits seamlessly here. It’s not something I anticipated, but seeing it play out makes my chest feel tight in a way I’m not ready to unpack.
She glances my way, catching me watching her, and offers a soft, private smile before turning back to Elena.
When Ava reaches for her wine glass, her hand brushes against mine, but neither of us pull away immediately.
“You doing okay?” I lean in, keeping my voice low.
She meets my gaze, her dark eyes bright in the warm glow of candlelight lining the table. “I am. Everyone has been amazing.”
Laughter rolls through the table as Russo recounts a locker room prank with a dramatic flourish. Coach Barrett shakes his head, chuckling, looking more relaxed than I've seen him in weeks. I glance back at Ava, watching how naturally she absorbs it all.
Russo’s voice cuts through again, playful but loud enough for the whole table. “Hey Ava, be honest. How hard is dating this guy? You can tell us, we won't judge.”
There’s a ripple of amused agreement, heads turning toward us. Ava lifts her chin slightly, eyes sparkling with humor. “Not too bad,” she says casually, sipping her wine. "He knows how to cook, so that’s a plus.”
Laughter erupts around the table, and even I grin. Russo throws up his hands, smiling widely. "Damn, Jacks, she's got your back already."
I glance down at Ava, warmth filling my chest as she smiles up at me, her gaze soft and steady. "Yeah," I say, surprised by how easily the next words come. "I'm pretty lucky."
The sincerity in my voice catches me off guard, and I quickly reach for my water, swallowing down a surge of unexpected vulnerability. Ava’s cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she nudges my knee gently under the table, a quiet reassurance no one else sees.
And just like that, surrounded by teammates, laughter, and the clink of forks, I realize something terrifying.
I don’t just like having her here.
I’m starting to need it.