Chapter 16 Skyler #2
He grunted a nervous chuckle. Something had the big guy worked up. He looked different, lighter, like a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
“What kind of news?”
His face split into a grin—a real one, not the controlled half smile he usually deployed. “I asked Linnea to marry me.”
I stopped walking. “What?”
“Saturday night, after the game. I video-called her from the hotel room and . . . just did it. I know it’s not classy or romantic, proposing over FaceTime, but I couldn’t wait.
I’d been carrying the ring for weeks, planning to do it when we got home, but then we won in overtime and I was so happy, and she was so happy, and it felt right. ”
“Erik . . .” I was struggling to process. “What did she say?”
His grin widened until my cheeks hurt. “She said yes.”
“Holy shit.” I pulled him into a hug right there in the hotel hallway. “Congrats, man. That’s incredible.”
“Thanks, Cap.” His voice was rough against my shoulder. “I still can’t believe it. Every time I think about it, I get this stupid smile on my face that I can’t control.”
I pulled back, and sure enough, the smile was still there—huge and unguarded and un-Erik-like.
“When are you telling the team?”
“Tonight, I think. On the plane, maybe. Or at dinner in Calgary.” He shook his head. “I haven’t figured out the logistics yet. I needed to tell someone first.”
“I’m honored to be your someone.”
“You’re my captain and my friend.” Erik’s expression turned serious for a moment. “You know, a year ago, I never would have done this, proposed, I mean. I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready, that the timing was wrong, that I needed to focus on hockey.”
“What changed?”
“I stopped lying to myself.” He shrugged, like it was simple. “I realized I was scared, and the fear was making me miss out on something real. Once I admitted that . . . everything got easier.”
The words landed somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.
I stopped lying to myself.
Fear was making me miss out on something real.
“Anyway,” Erik said, his grin returning, “Thanks for letting me get that out without spraying Viking everywhere. I should go pack. See you in the lobby at six?”
“Yeah. Congrats again, Erik. Really. This is awesome.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing alone with the echo of his words.
Erik told the team at dinner that night, after we’d landed in Calgary and settled into yet another hotel. The restaurant erupted.
Murph climbed onto his chair to lead a toast, nearly knocking over three water glasses in the process. Tyler started a chant that the entire table picked up. Kowalski produced a flask from somewhere and insisted everyone take a celebratory sip. I still don’t know what vile concoction we drank.
Through it all, Erik sat at the center of the chaos with that same soft, wondering expression, as though he couldn’t quite believe his own happiness.
“Speech!” Murph demanded. “The groom-to-be must give a speech!”
“I’m not giving a speech.”
“Then at least tell us how you knew. How did you know she was the one?” I prompted, wondering if the question was more for him or for me.
The table quieted, everyone leaning in.
Even the guys who usually tuned out emotional conversations were paying attention.
Erik went quiet for a moment.
“I don’t know if there was one moment,” he said.
“It was more like . . . a gradual realization. Every time something good happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell. Every time something bad happened, she was the one I wanted there to comfort me. I started planning my life around when I’d see her next, rearranging schedules or turning down plans with other people to spend more time with her. ”
He paused, his eyes going distant.
“And then one day, I was sitting in my apartment alone, and I realized I’d rather be anywhere else as long as she was there. The apartment, the city, none of it mattered without her. She was home, and home was no longer a place; it was a person.”
No one moved.
For the first time in all my years on the team, no one spoke.
Not a single word.
Even Murph had nothing to say.
“That’s when I knew,” Erik continued. “When I stopped being able to imagine my future without her in it, when the thought of losing her scared me more than the thought of committing forever.” He smiled, small and private.
“So I stopped fighting it. I let myself want what I wanted, and everything got really simple.”
Another eternal moment stretched.
Then one of the rookies seated at the far end started a slow clap that built into applause.
Erik waved it off, embarrassed, but the smile never left his face.
I clapped along with everyone else, my hands moving automatically while my brain churned.
Every time something good happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell.
I thought about scoring goals and wanting to text Jacks.
I started planning my life around when I’d see her next.
I thought about asking Jacks to lunch before the road trip, about the disappointment when he’d talked me out of it for my own good.
She was home. Not a place—a person.
I thought about Barbacks, about the booth in the back corner, about the way everything felt easier and simpler and right when I was sitting across from Jacks with nothing but tacos between us and nowhere else to be.
The realization hit like a check I hadn’t seen coming.
No.
No, no, no!
This wasn’t—
I wasn’t—
The room felt too hot, too crowded, too loud.
I tried to loosen my collar, but the T-shirt I wore didn’t have one. I mumbled something about needing air and pushed back from the table, weaving through the restaurant toward the exit.
Outside, the Calgary night was cold and sharp, the January air biting at my cheeks and nose. I leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant and tried to breathe.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
I wasn’t having some kind of existential crisis in the middle of a road trip because my teammate gave a speech about love.
I definitely wasn’t connecting Erik’s words to my own feelings because there was nothing to connect.
Jacks was my friend.
Just my friend.
I was straight, damn it. We couldn’t be anything more than friends.
The fact that he was the first person I thought about in the morning and the last person I texted at night meant nothing.
The fact that I’d touched his face and felt my whole world tilt on its axis meant nothing.
The fact that I was standing outside a restaurant in Calgary, heart racing, palms sweating, trying to convince myself that none of this was what it obviously was—
“Shaw?”
I turned to find Tyler in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow of the restaurant.
“You okay? You took off pretty fast.”
“Fine. I . . . needed some air.”
He stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind him and cupped his hands to blow warmth into his skin. For a moment, we stood in silence, breath fogging in the cold.
“Erik’s speech was something, huh?” Tyler said.
“Yeah. He’s really happy.”
“He is.” Tyler paused. “It got me thinking about when I figured things out with Kerry. How terrifying it was and how much I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real.”
I said nothing.
“The thing about denial,” Tyler continued, “is that it works great until it doesn’t. You can tell yourself a story for months, years even, but eventually, the truth gets too big to ignore.”
“What are getting at, Ty?”
“Okay.” His voice was gentle as he raised his palms in surrender. “But if you ever do want to talk about it . . . whatever ‘it’ is . . . I’m here. No judgment. Just a friend you know has seen it all and might be able to help or understand or . . . listen.”
He gave me a quick nod and went back inside, leaving me alone with the cold and the dark and the growing certainty that I was in way, way over my head.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Of course it did. Jacks could probably feel waves of angst flowing out of my body and pulsing all the way to Tampa.
Jacks: Bar’s dead tonight without you guys. How’s Calgary?
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Me: Fucking cold. Erik got engaged. Big celebration at dinner.
Jacks: ENGAGED?? That’s huge! Tell him congrats from Barbacks! I’m sure Finn and Mark will want to throw some kind of party for him.
Me: Will do. And yeah, that would be great.
Jacks: You okay? You sound weird. Can texts sound weird? I feel like yours sounds weird.
Me: Sorry. Long day.
Jacks: Get some sleep, hockey star. You’ve got games to win.
Me: Yeah. Good night, Jacks.
Jacks: Night, Sky.
I pocketed my phone and went back inside, but Erik’s words refused to give me a moment’s peace.
She was home. Not a place—a person.
I stopped fighting it.
Everything got simple.
I lay awake in my hotel room for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that what I was feeling wasn’t anything like what Erik had described, that it couldn’t be . . . what I thought it might be.
It didn’t work.