39
Nash
The familiar hum of the dressing room probably should’ve been comforting.
The sound of skates against the concrete floor, the tearing of tape, the thud of a puck against a stick.
Those were the sounds I’d grown up with, the sounds I’d heard every day for years.
They used to be the most comforting sounds, and the most exciting.
But today, my stomach was in a knot and my mind was spinning because this game mattered more than any of the others. It was my first game back. The coaches would be watching every move I made, and the media would be waiting to see if I’d fall on my face, dissecting every misstep.
I could practically hear the headlines.
Reed Crumbles under Pressure.
Reed Not Ready for Comeback.
Reed Proves He’s Still a Liability.
The pressure was ridiculously high. I needed to prove to everyone, and mostly to myself, that I could still do this. That I was still the player they could count on.
I kept my headphones on, trying to drown out everything including my own mind with loud music while I taped my stick, peeled it off, and started again.
Despite the nerves, I felt sharper than I had in months.
Seeing Kennedy had cleared my head in a way nothing else had.
The weight I’d been carrying wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t crushing me anymore.
She’d looked at me like there was still something worth fighting for.
And I sure as hell wasn’t about to waste that.
I hadn’t had a drink since the day Isaac had come to my apartment. And I didn’t even want one anymore. There was too much on the line not to be fully present.
Mitch clapped me on the back as he took the spot next to me.
I took my headphones off and turned to face him.
“Hey,” he said cautiously, like he didn’t quite know how to approach me. He knew I’d gone to see Kennedy, but he was the only one, except for my brother.
“Hey,” I responded.
“You okay?”
I nodded slowly, because for the first time in a while, I was actually okay.
His lips curved into a grin. “Good,” he said. “That’s good. That’s really fucking good.”
We finished getting dressed, and the closer we got to game time, the more focused I became.
Once we hit the ice, things felt easier. I tuned everything out. My head was focused on the upcoming game, ready to take it one play at a time. My eyes scanned the ice, focused on nothing but my own body and the puck, until I came around the short end behind our goal and something made me look up.
She hadn’t been there for months, but my eyes still went there—and this time, she was.
For a second, I thought I was imagining things. But Kennedy was sitting there, her long hair down around her shoulders, dressed in my game jersey.
The sight hit me so hard I nearly stumbled. I hadn’t expected to see her, not this soon. When she’d said she’d work on it, I’d figured it would take a couple of weeks at least.
My chest tightened as my eyes locked on hers, those familiar blue eyes that had been missing from my life for too long. I felt my lips twitch into a smile before I could stop it. God, she was beautiful, and she was really here. She was really fucking here.
I wanted to go to her right then, but the anthem was about to start.
So instead, I kept my eyes on hers, holding them like they were the only thing keeping me upright.
As the music played, I placed my hand over my heart and tapped it twice, a reminder that it beat for her. Kennedy’s slow smile was the best fuel.
It was go time, and I was going to play my best game for her.
For every night she’d stood in the stands cheering me on.
For every time she’d told me to keep pushing when we were down.
For every moment she’d believed in me when I was two seconds away from giving up on myself.
Tonight, I was skating for her. And I wasn’t going to let her down.
The puck dropped.
Maybe it was the rush of seeing her or just everything building to this moment, but I skated like I never had before, as if my skates weren’t even touching the ice.
I was faster, stronger, and hungrier. Five minutes in, I buried the puck on a rebound.
The red light went on, and the entire arena erupted, lights flashing, music blasting, the crowd on their feet chanting my name like a battle cry.
“Reed! Reed! Reed!”
I looked up, searching for her in the sea of people, finding her jumping up and down with a huge smile across her beautiful face. I raised my stick high and, without thinking, pressed my hand over my chest again. That one was for her.
By the end of the first period, the score was tied. As we headed off the ice, I knew I had to see her, even for a second. I skated by the bench and caught her eye, gesturing for her to come down. She hesitated, her cheeks going pink, which made me smile. My beautiful girl still hated the spotlight.
Sammy gave her a little push.
She started moving, weaving down toward the gate. I barely noticed the crowd murmuring or the cameras flashing. All I could see was her coming closer.
I took off my helmet as she planted her palms against the glass, stopping right in front of her.
“Baby,” I breathed, knowing she couldn’t hear me but saying it anyway.
Her smile hit me right in the heart. And then she mouthed the best words ever: I’m back.
“What?” I said, my eyes widening. “You’re back? For real?”
She nodded, her beautiful smile stretching even wider.
My heart damn near stopped.
I pressed my gloved hand to the glass, right over hers.
“I love you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, wishing more than anything that the glass wasn’t between us, that I could pull her into me.
She mouthed, I love you too, and from the sighs in the crowd, I knew we were plastered all over the Jumbotron.
But I didn’t care.
All that mattered was that she was here.
Back in New York.
Back at my game.
Back with me.