16. Matt
MATT
She’s all I can think about. Not this game or the chance at the Cup, but wondering if she’s okay. God, she looked petrified when I saw her, fighting in Andy’s arms and doing everything she could to break free from his grasp, screaming my name.
I need to get her. Now.
Five seconds on the clock in the second period feels like five years as the ref drops the puck, and then the time runs out.
The second I hear the buzzer, I’m moving, digging my skates into the ice and racing toward the bench.
Some of the guys try talking to me and get my attention, but I ignore every one of them as I rip the board door open and step through.
“Where is she?” The only person I give my attention to is Carrington.
The head coach is probably not likely to know the answer to such a question, but he’s not a normal head coach.
He clicks his tongue, pursing his lips together in annoyance that I’m probably focusing my attention on Shay instead of the game. While he’s also our friend, he’s still a pro hockey coach, desperate to have a Stanley Cup win on his résumé.
“With Andy. Probably in the office.” He flicks his hand out to the side, gesturing toward the tunnel, where not only the team locker room is, but the makeshift office the Nighthawks staff is using during this away game.
I get his frustration, but I have absolutely no patience for it right now.
He, of all people, knows what it’s like to have your career ended because of an injury.
He should have more sympathy than anyone.
Luckily for him, his final moment on the ice wasn’t as horrific as Shay’s, but that should have an even bigger impact on him.
He’s not my focus right now though. I’ll share my frustration with him later. Right now, I just need to get to her. My hands and face are barren, my gloves, helmet, and blocker nowhere to be found—I must’ve dropped them at some point on my way. But I don’t care.
My heart is in my throat, fire burning in my eyes as I scour the long hallway with no clue where to go. But then I hear it—the softest sound, but one I’m certain came from Shay. I follow it, three doors down to the right.
Ripping the handle, I throw the door open, and my heart drops to my stomach as her shattered stare locks with mine. Shay’s face is as red as her hair, tears streaked down her cheeks, which is distorted with a thousand emotions. Andy turns his head and sees me, relief drifting over him.
I step into the room, not caring for a second about the possible consequences of what I’m about to do, not caring about the game. I’ll send Huang in my place if she needs me here.
We take a step toward each other at the same time, a sob tearing through the room.
“Matt.”
“Come here, baby.” My hands snake around the back of her head, my other around her waist, and I pull her flush against me as she melts into my embrace. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Her hair’s a mess, pressed against my face as I gently rock her back and forth, clinging to her like my life depends on it. Part of me thinks it’s starting to.
“Oh God.” She winces, her words full of self-loathing. “I was worried that you—oh God.”
Screw this damn gear and these pads that are keeping any distance between us. I wish I could rip it all off right now, but I don’t want to let her go for a single second.
“Shh, shh, shh. I’m right here. Everything’s fine,” I say softly in her ear, my eyes closing as her fingers dig roughly into me. “I’ve got you. Just breathe for me. Come on.”
Sliding my hand around to her ear, I cup her cheek and pull her away just enough to see her face.
I exaggerate my breathing, and she mirrors my actions.
Slowly, I inhale through my nose before gradually exhaling.
She does the same, and after a few reps, the chaotic rise and fall of her shoulders begins to slow.
“There you go. Attagirl. Nice and easy.” I encourage her, my head leaning forward until it’s leaning against hers. “You’re doing so good.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, fighting back tears as her head slowly shakes side to side. “I fucked up. I ruined everything with my crazy outburst.”
Both of my hands find her face, pulling her back to meet my eyes dead-on. “Like hell you did. That was a normal reaction, Shay. You went through an incredibly traumatic experience. But I’m safe. You’re safe. Everything’s just fine.”
Her breath is shaky and sputtering, her stare raw and unshielded. “Then why does it feel like the world is going to end?”
I brush her tears away, holding her firmly. “Because you just relived your accident. It dredged up all those feelings, shoving them back at you all over again. Give yourself grace. You’re doing incredible.”
She laughs humorlessly, rolling her eyes. “I’m never going to be able to face any of them again. The players. The staff. The fans … oh God.” She winces painfully. “I can already see the news and media now. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Fuck them. Fuck them all. No one’s opinion of you matters but your own. The people who really know you hold no goddamn judgment for the most human reaction. Be kinder to yourself, please. You’re talking about my favorite person right now.”
Her eyes flick back up to mine, wider than before. Those full lips part, and she sucks in a breath. “Your favorite person, huh?”
She’s unreadable, her face a blank canvas, but then her gaze drops to my mouth, just for a split second. But, God, that second is a moment that’s going to replay repeatedly in my mind for eternity.
“Yeah, Shay, my favorite person. Be nicer to her. She’s the strongest, most resilient, most beautiful girl in the entire fucking world.”
She bites down nervously on her lip again, or maybe she’s stopping herself from saying something she feels she shouldn’t. We both take a deep breath together one more time before reality seems to return to her, armor clicking into place around her body and in her stare.
“I’m fine.” She huffs, stepping back and straightening out her clothes as if she just flipped a switch in her mind. “I’m good.” She swallows hard, wiping her nose and beneath her eyes, but it does little to hide the redness burned into her features from crying.
“You’ve got this, Rooney,” I murmur, nodding. “Best there is, remember?”
Her shoulders rise a little, and she nods sharply. “I think it’s best if I stay in here for the rest of tonight’s game. I don’t want to be by the ice right now.”
“Yeah, and that’s for the best for everyone involved,” Carrington’s voice booms behind me, shattering the safety of our moment, and I watch Shay’s face fall with embarrassment.
I whip around, red filling my vision. “Watch your fucking mouth, Nate.”
His gaze shifts to me, challenge in his stare. “I need my players focused on the game, not on the bench. We need to secure this win, which means no distractions or outbursts.”
“Carrington,” I warn him one more time. I don’t give a fuck that he’s my coach or that he could pull my ass off the ice for the rest of the playoffs.
I know he won’t, not if he really wants to win.
“Disrespect her one more time, and it’s the last thing you’ll do without two black eyes and a bloody nose. ”
“Matt,” Shay interrupts him, stepping beside me and addressing Coach Carrington.
“You’re right. This is the most important moment for the team, and everyone needs to be focused on the game.
I apologize for my distraction. I lost control for a minute, and I will do my best to make sure that never happens again.
I’m a coach and a professional, and I’m sorry. ”
His eyebrows twitch upward with surprise. “Thank you. I appreciate—”
“I wasn’t done,” she cuts him off, her hand in the air between them.
“There’s a difference between being a coach and being a dick.
I know you want to win more than anything because you were denied that chance as a player.
You’re overcompensating and emotional because of it.
You’re a damn good coach who is going to take this team all the way, but don’t use my outburst as an outlet to ignore your own fears about this tournament.
The only way everyone is winning is if we do it together. ”
Her upturned palm falls sideways, straightening out to shake his hand. With a few silent nods, he takes her hand and shakes it firmly.
“You’re right, and I apologize. I couldn’t agree more.”
“Good.” She stands tall as he steps back and walks toward the locker room.
“MacArthur, you have five minutes.”
“Got it.” I smirk, feeling like I just got a front-row seat to a show. Turning my head to the side to face Shay, I can’t contain my smile. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
She slams her eyes closed before looking up at me and shaking her head. “Get your ass in that locker room, MacArthur. You’ve got a game to win.”
Biting down on my bottom lip, I grunt, “Mmm. Yes, Coach.”
She grabs my jersey and shoves me out of the door with a stern look, but her laugh betrays her sternness. “Get out of here.”
Her giggle carries me to the locker room, but when I disappear inside, I’m ready to go back to war and kill Montreal. My best friends are all staring at me, waiting with bated breath for me to address what just happened, but I shake my head and plop down on the seat in front of my cubby.
JD blows a raspberry. “Sooo …”
Flipping them off, I scoff. “Nope.”
Costy whines, “Big Mac, come on, dude. Give us something. We’re dying here.”
Their interest in my personal life is invasive, but I can’t help but chuckle at the amount of times I was in their shoes during their dating lives, before they were all basically paired off and married.
I glance around the locker room. No one else seems to be paying attention, and staff are likely in a different room, so I suppose I can give them a tiny crumb, maybe even let them in on the plan I have after the game.
“What do you want to know?” I sigh, leaning back and taking a drink of water from JD’s bottle beside me.
JD yanks it from my hand. “I get two questions for that, thief.” But then he hands it back to me and rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain. “How long have you two been … close?”
“Since she started.”
“You didn’t know her before?” Burnsy buts in. “You two just seem like you have history.”
Shaking my head, I respond, “Nope. We just clicked.”
“Trust me, I get it. Sometimes, you meet someone and you just know.” Costy grins, clearly reminiscing about his own relationship when he met Morgan—well, I guess she went by Nikki at the time since she was running from her psychotic ex.
“Yeah, shit, man.” I kick my foot out. “I didn’t see this coming.”
“You usually don’t,” Kos chimes in, handing me a water bottle of my own, and I nod my thanks. “So, what are you going to do? Can we help?”
Larinski ignores Kos, asking a question of his own. “Is she all right? She was pretty freaked out.”
I nod, the fear in her eyes flashing in my mind. “She’s good. Just needed a moment.”
It’s not my place to give details, and they know it, so I know they’re not going to push more about it.
“It’s probably fucking terrifying after what she’s been through. God, I can’t even imagine it.” Kos sighs in thought. “She’s a fucking beast, being back in an arena at all.”
“I know,” I murmur, my heart full of pride for her. “I, uhh …”
“What?” Burnsy gasps, hanging on to every word like a gossiping teenage girl.
Side-eyeing him, I can’t help but to giggle as I lean toward them and lower my voice. “I have a plan for tonight, after the game.”
Burnsy sucks in a breath, and I want to keel over from his reaction.
“I rented out her favorite restaurant in town. I found a few posts about it on her Instagram and thought I’d surprise her.”
“And she agreed to go?” JD smirks. “Hot and secretive. You dirty dogs.”
“I’m regretting telling you guys any of this,” I groan.
JD bumps my shoulder with his. “Nah, you love us.”
Unfortunately, they’re not wrong, and as annoying as they can be sometimes, they’re my goddamn family.
“She hasn’t agreed.”
“But you asked her?” Kos pushes, clearly sniffing out that I’m leaving certain details out of this.
Pumping my hands, I try to calm them down. “Relax. I have a plan.”
I finish telling them my grand idea before Coach Carrington comes in, offering me an apologetic nod before addressing the group.
When we head back to the ice, we’re hungry for a victory, which is exactly what we get when the third period comes to an end.
But now I have to do something far scarier than face Montreal in the playoffs—take Shay on our first date.