28. “Who knew this sport was just a bunch of guys fighting over who deserves the most praise?”
“Who knew this sport was just a bunch of guys fighting over who deserves the most praise?”
Caleb Hawthorne
Playing without Wally in the net just feels off. He was supposed to be back yesterday, but his flight got canceled due to a mechanical issue, so Barrick is defending our Raptors goal tonight, and I know he’s grateful for the opportunity.
As we get into position for puck drop, I can’t help but glance toward where Aria is seated.
She’s on the edge of her seat, proudly sporti ng her Raptors jersey, her knees bouncing but eyes fixed on me.
She smiles when she realizes I’m watching her, and my heart has never felt so full.
I always thought having a girlfriend would distract me from the game, but if anything, it makes me even more focused—and a lot more eager to win. I want to make my girl proud.
The puck drops, and I snap it back to Miles before taking off up the ice, my skates cutting clean through the polished surface. He sends it up to Adler, skirting along the boards, and I push forward, reading the play as it develops.
I should be locked in, thinking three moves ahead, but I can still feel Aria’s eyes on me. It’s a different kind of pressure—one I don’t mind. One I actually want.
Our opponent closes in, and Adler chips the puck past a defenseman, sending it sailing right onto the open ice. I’m already there, scooping it up and cutting toward the net. A winger skates into my lane, but I shift my weight, slipping around him with ease.
I hear the bench yelling, my teammates calling for the play, but it’s Aria’s voice I imagine—her reaction when I score, when I make this shot count.
I fake a shot, drag the puck wide, then snap it top shelf. The horn blows. The crowd roars.
But I barely hear any of it.
I glance toward where Aria is sit ting. She’s on her feet, hands clutched over her mouth, before she lets out a cheer.
And the way she’s looking at me—as though I just did something incredible—gets my pulse pumping harder than the goal itself.
Playing with your girlfriend in the audience truly is different, but in the best way.
It’s not a distraction. It gives you something worth fighting for.
Adler slaps my helmet as we skate back to the bench. “Holy smokes, Cap. Playing like a man on a mission.”
I smirk, catching my breath. “Something like that.”
Aria
The Raptors barreled through their opponents and snagged a 5–1 win, with two goals from Caleb, and we’re now celebrating at Deacon’s bar—our usual routine.
Hiding the fact that I have my memories back from the girls has been excruciating, but I have no choice.
I can’t tell them before I tell Caleb. Deacon’s bar is certainly not the place, either, so I hope we won’t stay too late.
As the hours pass, I get more and more anxious about revealing my past to Caleb. I was so confident earlier, but doubts are trickling back in.
The guys arrive at th e bar, and we give them a round of applause for their amazing win. We all hug and chat, and our dynamic is so easy. So natural. Just a group of friends hanging out after a hockey game. I’m now perched on Caleb’s lap—probably my new favorite spot in the world.
James gives Max a slap on the back before collapsing on the couch. “You’re welcome for that perfect assist, by the way.”
Max scoffs, grabbing a drink off the table. “Please. That goal was all me. You just happened to be there.”
“Oh, is that how it is?” James raises an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, you were flailing like a fish out of water before I bailed you out.”
Aaron grins, leaning in toward Marissa. “Should we remind them who actually carried the team tonight?”
Marissa smirks. “Yep. I think they need a play-by-play breakdown.”
“Hold on. Didn’t I score two goals?” Caleb says, his deep voice reverberating against my shoulder.
I nod eagerly, angling myself to face him. “I think you did.”
“But who made the assists for those goals?” Aaron shoots back, still grinning.
Caleb raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Beth rolls her eyes as she sips h er drink. “Who knew this sport was just a bunch of guys fighting over who deserves the most praise?”
Marissa smirks. “Yeah, real shocker.”
“Oh, come on,” James says, slinging an arm over Beth’s shoulders. “You should all be grateful we put on such a good show for you.”
“Oh, we are,” Hayley says between giggles. “And it’s still going strong. Where’s the popcorn?”
“As long as we don’t forget who did the heavy lifting tonight,” Max adds.
James nudges him. “If by ‘heavy lifting’ you mean skating five feet behind me the whole game, then yeah, totally.”
The group dissolves into laughter, and as I feel myself relax, I have this bittersweet taste in my mouth. I fit so well into this group, but will it stay that way once they know? Once he knows?
What if the annoying voice in my head is right? What if it knows better than me?
I shift on Caleb’s lap, and he secures his arm around my waist, his warmth soothing my nerves. It’s going to be fine. I just have to tell him the truth.
As the minutes tick by, I can’t stop fidgeting.
I don’t want to be the pushy girl who begs to go home and deprives her boyfriend of time with his friends, but we’ve been here for a while, and I’m really starting to get restless.
If I don’t tell him now, it might just burst out of me right here in the middle of the conversation.
James yawns dramatically before placing a kiss on each of Beth’s cheeks, and it kickstarts a wave of yawns around the group.
“Maybe we should call it a night?” I suggest with a chuckle, not missing the opportunity.
Everyone nods, and soon, we’re all walking back to the parking lot at the end of the street and saying goodbye.
I’m tempted to confess to Caleb the second I’m alone with him, but he’s driving. And since I really don’t want to end up in the hospital again, I wait, knee bouncing as I wring my hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, glancing at me.
I sit on my hands. “Nothing. Just tired.”
He focuses back on the road, and I suck in small intakes of breath. In the next ten minutes, everything is going to change—I just don’t know if it ’s going to be for the better or for the worse.
Finally, we turn onto Caleb’s street, and he parks in front of his house. We traipse up the steps to the entrance, and as soon as he closes the front door behind him, I take a deep breath and say, “We need to talk.”
This is it. There’s no turning back now.