Chapter 14
As I walk through Great Lakes Stadium, memories engulf me from every direction. Familiar sounds and smells linger in the air the closer I get to the locker room complex where the offices are.
It stirs the anxiety deep inside my gut.
I close my eyes, waiting for what I assume will be bad memories to attack my senses. But instead of blood, sirens, and screams, I’m met with laughter, bright faces, and cheers. It knocks the breath out of me.
They’re not bad memories.
I open my eyes and let out a breath as I head for Briar’s office. I knock twice and wait, but there’s no answer. I knock again and twist the handle open only to find that her office is empty.
“Harper? What are you doing here, son?” Coach Avery asks from behind me.
I glance over at him. “Waiting for a friend,” I say, my voice neutral despite the nervous energy humming through me.
“She’s here for an interview for Ink and Print.
They moved it here because they have a photo shoot on the ice for the book cover later,” I explain.
“I thought I’d come talk to Briar while I wait. ”
“Ah, yes, Valerie’s friend is the model,” he says. “Briar’s having a little car trouble. If you’re happy to wait, care to keep an old man company?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say.
He clears his throat. “So, you got any tips for a guy who forgot his wedding anniversary?” he asks as we walk away from his office, heading straight for the ice. “Marla’s punishing me. I was reviewing game tape, and now I’m in the doghouse.”
“Is she making you sleep at the stadium again?” I chuckle, knowing just how fiery his wife can be.
“Worse. Her nephew plays college hockey. NHL potential but his temper is a problem. He’s an agitator who thinks he’s untouchable. Marla wanted me to bring him here to show him what he could lose if he keeps it up.”
“And why is that a punishment?”
“The kid’s a shithead. Flirts with anyone wearing a skirt.”
I bark out a laugh.
“I wrangled some of the guys here today to try and hammer home what’s at stake,” he says as we get to the boards in time to see Hayes, Oliver, Austin, and Rudy step onto the ice.
Apart from the odd appearance and text in the group chat, I’ve pretty much avoided them since the accident, and they’ve let me.
The name Jack coined us with—the sexy six—was now just the fab five for the most gut-wrenching reason. The name rings empty and beyond hollow.
Austin skates up to me with his helmet under his arm, his hair cropped short after cutting off five inches to donate to charity.
The new look draws more attention to his defined, sculpted jawline and high cheekbones.
The angles of his face are a stark contrast against the softness in his green eyes.
A combination of fierce intensity and unspoken warmth.
Even without his gear on, he’s unmistakably a goalie—tall, broad, and built solid from years of dropping into the crease and taking shots head-on.
“Glad to see you, man,” he says simply and heads for the goal.
“Yeah, good to see you, Harper.” Rudy taps me with his stick before he skates away.
I’ve always liked Rudy. He was traded to our team a year after my debut and quickly wormed his way into our hearts. Rudy’s a clown, but he’s our clown.
Every time he glides across the ice, it’s clear he’s grateful for the game—and for the life he gets to live now.
He’s never been shy about his past as a foster kid but he wears his scars with pride and honor.
Jack’s death hit Rudy harder than anyone on the team. I thought he’d hate me when he found out it was my brother who took Jack from us but he stood by me.
At the funeral, when I fell apart in front of hundreds, he wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay. He held me up and stayed strong for me when I couldn’t.
Hayes and Oliver slide up next, pulling me from my thoughts.
“You want in?” Hayes asks.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you, Pretty Boy,” Oliver says, flashing a shit-eating grin that makes his hazel eyes—some days more green than brown, other days the opposite—sparkle against his lightly bronzed skin.
He runs his fingers through his tousled, medium-length mousy blond hair.
It falls naturally over his forehead, giving him that slightly rugged, just-woke-up look the ladies seem to love.
They call me Pretty Boy, but we all know that title really belongs to Oliver—though I’d never admit it out loud. His head would never fit through the doorway, and his upper body already claims most of the space… along with that big ego of his.
“Briar will have my balls in a vice. I’ve cancelled every ice evaluation she’s scheduled for me,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
I know my answer tells Hayes I haven’t been back on the ice since the accident. Not that he probably doesn’t already know that. “It’s actually what I came here to talk to her about.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s expected of you to have ice evaluations as part of your recovery?” Hayes responds.
My lips twitch.
“You’re not breaking the rules. And if we have a pissed off doctor on our hands, Rudy can always attempt to sweet talk her,” Oliver says, tugging on his helmet.
“She complimented him on his awful karaoke skills at Hendrick’s Bar and now he’s a dog with a bone.
I’m telling you, he’s gonna give her a class ring and ask her to go steady with him any day now.
” Oliver chuckles, and I do too, because yeah, it’s classic Rudy, but he’s harmless.
I flick my gaze to Coach Avery. He has his phone in his hand.
“Briar says you’re cleared for light skating. Nothing riskier until she gets here. I’ll observe until she does. You stop if it gets to be too much,” Coach Avery says, pocketing his phone.
I let out a breath.
Am I really doing this?
I look out onto the ice as a few players begin to stretch and prepare. This time, Erin isn’t in danger. So, if I do this, it would be for me, and only me.
“So, what do you say?” Hayes asks.
I take a deep breath and dip my chin.
“Yeah, put me in, Cap.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know there’s no going back.
This is it.
I lower myself onto the bench and pull on my skates. The tightness gripping me fades as I lace them up, my fingers moving on autopilot. Each tug is a new promise to myself, a promise to not run anymore.
When I finally stand, the weight of the skates keep me rooted. The moment my blades touch the ice, a rush of memories comes back—laughter, wins, losses, and pranks.
My skates cut new lines every time I push off with one foot and then the other, and the noise in my head feels less intrusive.
Like I can control it.
A lightness I haven’t known in a long time sweeps over me.
A fresh start.
It feels like I’m home.
This is where I’m meant to be.
The surface beneath me is more solid than ever before.
As I glide, I close my eyes. And then Erin’s voice echoes in my head, her soft tone a lifeline.
“I’m so proud of you, Eighty-Seven.”
It wraps around me, like flickering embers stretching toward the sky during a campfire. Her words are a hand at my back, pushing me forward, reminding me that I’m not alone.
And then there’s another voice. One full of pride and certainty. A voice that always materializes when I’m out here.
“You can do this, Chase. I know you can. Let go of the pain now. It’s not yours to carry. Let me take it far from this place. I’ll always be with you, even when you can’t see me. When you need me the most, I’ll be here.”
Jack’s voice washes over me. Cool, assuring, and full of hope just as it always was, regardless of how small the conversation.
When I open my eyes, his words find me again, and as I take in my surroundings, I realize that he’s right.
He’ll always be with me when I need him the most. And right now, that’s here.
Right on the ice. Getting through this.
Hayes skids to a stop next to me.
“You ready for this, Pretty Boy?”
“I’m ready.”
I can do this.
“Alright, let’s get your body warmed up. Start with laps. Get familiar with your skates being on the ice. Controlled puck passes. No shots. No contact. Understood?” Hayes’s voice is assertive but considerate.
“Got it, Cap.”
And then I’m skating away from him. Every push, every glide, every breath comes naturally to me, as if I’ve never been absent.
My body remembers exactly what I’m doing as I continue my laps with ease. As if it’s saying, “Relax, Harper. We got you.”
I complete my final lap and come to a stop in front of Hayes. He drops a puck on the ice, then hands me a stick.
“Pass it to me, and if it’s comfortable, take a shot.”
We pass the puck back and forth for a minute or two.
Hayes watches me with focused eyes, the blue in them darker than mine.
His thick, sandy blond hair falls around his face, highlighting the rough stubble along his strong jaw.
His neck ripples with muscles, adding to his commanding, yet humble presence.
Hayes is built like a fortress—powerful but lean. Everything we need in a captain.
I throw in a little stick handling before sending it back to Hayes. When he passes it back to me, I curve the puck with my stick and take off in a skate heading for the goal.
A simple flick of the wrist and it’s in.
We continue like that for a while.
I complete drill after drill, my body adjusting and remembering what to do, what to expect. It’s a perfectly tuned dance.
One I’m great at.
“Care for a little friendly competition?” Hayes asks. “A light game. First to five goals. No hits. Think you can handle it?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.
Jack’s words wash over me again.
“Let’s do it,” I answer.
The game goes by in a quick blur.
I score my fifth goal before Hayes. It’s an easy game but sweat drips down my back. Rudy skates to a stop next to me, knocking his helmet against mine, and I can’t stop myself from grinning.
Fuck, it feels amazing.
I find Coach Avery smiling from the sidelines.
Watching. Observing. Approving.