Chapter Eight
Back to Life
Ariana
The next two weeks were the best two weeks of my life.
Shane was locked into hockey, the Eagles laser-focused on the possibility of clutching the championship. But any time he wasn’t on the ice, he was with me.
Growing up, I was used to being ignored.
My dad left when I was a baby. My stepfather pretended to like me only long enough to get my mother to marry him, and then he promptly showed his true distaste for me and all children.
He preferred I be in my bedroom once he got home from work so he could watch TV undisturbed.
Sometimes, I’d go out in the living room and try to talk to my mom, and he’d scream at me, and then at her, and sometimes the screaming would evolve into something worse.
I learned to just stay away.
I was used to being on my own. I didn’t mind going to my room. It was safe there. I had my music and my books. I could make bookmarks and talk on the phone to the few friends I had.
But I got lonely sometimes.
When George was born, I spent a lot of time with him. My stepfather wasn’t exactly thrilled at his arrival, and he didn’t love when my mother doted over their son. He felt like the baby was stealing his attention.
So, most nights, I would be with Georgie — rocking him, feeding him, playing with him, getting him to sleep. He slept in a crib in my room, and I loved having him there.
“Sometimes I feel guilty for leaving him,” I told Shane one night.
We were curled up together in my tiny twin bed, his long legs hanging off the end of it.
He quietly ran his fingers over my back and gave me space to talk out what I was feeling.
“I mean, he’s okay. Jay has never hurt him.
But he’s older now, you know? I think he’s starting to understand what’s going on around him.
He hears the yelling, sees what Jay does to Mom.
” I shivered, tucking myself into a ball at Shane’s side.
I’d never told anyone the real, raw truth of my family dynamics.
It felt both terrifying and liberating to have someone to share with now.
“He’s delayed in speaking. I think it’s because any time he hears someone talk, it’s bad. ”
Shane had sighed and tugged me closer, kissing my hair. He always listened. He never rushed me.
I confessed to him that same night that I’d gotten so used to being alone.
I’d also confessed I was glad to not be alone now.
Because every day after classes, every weekend, every night after practices or games — he was there with me. We studied and talked. We laughed and played.
We kissed.
A lot.
And it was sort of like walking in a dream. I’d never known what it was to be the center of someone’s world until Shane McCabe.
True to his word, the Eagles made it to the Championship game.
And true to mine, I followed them to Wisconsin.
Shane refused to let me pay for my own plane ticket, but I refused to let him get my hotel room.
We compromised, and my heart was in my throat, my eyes wide as I watched him skate in an arena swallowed by red jerseys and deafening Wisconsin chants.
They fought hard, but when the horn sounded on a 2–1 loss, the crowd roared, gloves and sticks flying from the Badgers as they swarmed their goalie. On the other end, the Eagles slumped over their sticks, stunned into silence.
Just like that, his dream of the Championship was gone.
Shane carried the weight of it visibly when he finally made it back to the hotel.
I was waiting for him in the lobby as he dragged himself in, his shoulders slumped, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.
His headphones dangled, the cord snaking over the Eagles logo on his chest before disappearing into his pocket.
His eyes were dark and tired, like the arena lights had burned the shine out of them.
When he saw me, the corner of his lips quirked like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
I opened my arms, and he fell into them without hesitation, this massive hockey player folding into me like a sad little boy.
“We were so close, Ari,” he rasped, shaking his head. “One goal.”
“I know,” I whispered, hugging him tighter.
For a while, we just stood there, and I didn’t dare be the one to break the hug first. After a while, Shane stood tall with a sigh, wrapped his hand around mine, and wordlessly led me to the elevator.
Without either of us saying it, we went to my room. Shane dropped his bag once we were inside, and then he fell face-first onto the bed with a huff.
I was going to suggest a shower, but judging by the damp state of his hair, he’d already taken one at the arena. So, instead, I climbed on top of him and started rubbing his shoulders and his back, giving him the space he so often gave me to work through his feelings.
“I know you’re hurting right now,” I said. “I know this loss must gut you in a way I’ll never understand. But can I say something?”
Shane didn’t answer verbally, but turned his head so his cheek was against the mattress.
“I’m proud of you,” I said. “Win or lose, that was one hell of a game you played. I… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“To be fair, you’ve never been to a hockey game.”
“And now I see what I’ve been missing out on.” I smiled, still working his shoulders. “You… you were incredible, Shane. I don’t think I got it before, but I see it now — how important hockey is to you, how much the game means. You come alive out there in a way you don’t anywhere else.”
Shane tapped my thigh to let me know to hop off him, and then he rolled to face me. He was laying down, head propped on his hand, and I sat next to him with my legs tucked beneath me.
“Hockey is all I’ve ever had,” he admitted, his nostrils flaring a bit as he wrangled his emotions.
“When my parents died, my grandparents threw me into it because they just wanted me to be busy and leave them alone. But they didn’t realize that in their selfishness, they gave me my lifeline.
” He shook his head. “I’ve never had anything mean as much to me as hockey does.
” He swallowed then, his eyes searching mine. “Until you.”
“Shane…”
“I mean it, Ari.” He sat up then, one hand reaching forward to hook around the back of my neck and bring me to him until our foreheads were touching.
“You being here tonight… it meant everything to me. I don’t want to do anything ever again without you, not now that I know what it’s like to be with you.
Hockey saved me,” he said, voice rough. “But you… you’re bringing me back to life. ”
I winced as if the words had pained me, but they only lit a fire in my heart because I felt the same way for him.
And I only knew one way to tell him.
With my hands crawling into his hair, I tugged him closer, and I kissed him.
It was soft at first, a brush of lips that carried every unspoken word inside me.
But when he sighed against my mouth and pulled me closer, I deepened it, climbing into his lap without hesitation.
His hands trembled where they held my waist, and mine shook just as badly as they curled into his damp hair.
We stripped each other slowly, carefully, both of us eager, but somehow aware, that this was too precious to be rushed.
My sweater went first, Shane’s hands running up the length of my ribcage and hooking the fabric on his wrists before he pushed it over my head.
His hoodie was next, my hands a lot less graceful as I tugged and pulled until he helped me get it off.
We laughed when his elbow got caught in the sleeve, but it only made the moment feel more real. More ours.
When at last we were bare, he paused, forehead pressed to mine, chest rising and falling like he was trying to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he whispered; voice rough.
“Yes.” My answer came without hesitation. Because I was. Because for the first time in my life, I wanted to give myself to someone completely.
He reached for his bag, pulled out his wallet, and retrieved a condom from inside. My cheeks warmed, but my heart ached with how gentle he was, how careful, like he’d thought about protecting me before he ever let himself imagine this.
Shane laid me back into the bed, pulling the sheets over us and balancing on his forearms above me. My heart was hammering in my chest as he kissed me, one hand reaching between us.
When he entered me, I gasped, overwhelmed at the sharp stretch, the sudden rush of sensation. He stilled instantly, brushing his lips over my temple, waiting until I nodded, until I shifted my hips to meet his.
And then it was slow, tender, every movement deliberate. His arms shook with the weight of him, with the restraint he showed in taking me slowly. My breaths came in shivers, eyes stinging with tears I didn’t want to blink away.
Because it wasn’t just physical. It was soul-deep. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I belonged somewhere, like I was cherished instead of tolerated.
And as we moved together, as we kissed through the trembling and the laughter and the whispered promises, I realized there would be no untangling us now.
Our lives were forever woven, threads stitched in a night I’d never forget.