25. Austin
AUSTIN
I haven’t played in a month.
Thought I’d be rusty and slow as fuck. Figured my legs would feel heavy, my timing would be off, my rhythm shot to hell. But the second my blades touch the ice, it all just… clicks.
Like my body remembers. Like it’s been waiting.
My legs know what to do. My hands remember how to handle the stick. My body locks into place, like it never left. It’s like the last few weeks didn’t happen. Like I didn’t screw everything up. Like I wasn’t benched for weeks and forced to sit on the sidelines while everyone else kept going.
I didn’t think I’d play again this season. I honest-to-god thought Coach would sideline me permanently. Let me rot in my own mistakes.
But here I am.
The student section is on their feet and Coach is yelling and the puck is ours and—holy shit, we’re winning.
I shouldn’t be surprised. The guys played just fine without me.
The moment I take a pass from Logan, twist around the defenseman, and bury the puck top shelf, it’s like every part of me exhales.
I’m back.
And I’m fucking starving for it.
The crowd is loud tonight, louder than I remember, but I don’t scan the stands until the first whistle blows and I’m skating back to the bench.
And that’s when I see Maisie sitting in the front row.
I asked her to come, and she told me she would, but seeing her here for real is making my stomach flutter.
She’s here.
For me.
Our eyes meet and I flash a grin.
Ryan thumps his stick against my shoulder. “Let’s go, lover boy.”
I shove him with my elbow, moving toward the faceoff circle. I line up, dropping low, my eyes locked on the puck.
The second it hits the ice, we’re flying.
It’s fast. Faster than I expected. But I feel good. Better than good. I don’t realize how much I missed this until I’m slamming my body into the boards for a loose puck and the crowd roars behind me.
I scoop it free, twist on my blades, and send a clean pass to Logan. He barely holds it a beat before snapping it across the crease to Ryan, who hammers it home.
Goal.
Just like that.
My first assist of the night, and I’m grinning so hard it hurts.
My jersey sticks to my chest, sweat dripping down my back, but I don’t care. I can’t stop grinning. Nothing, nothing in the world feels better than this.
I glance up at the stands, and see Maisie standing, with a wide smile as she claps and cheers, her eyes locked on me.
Okay… maybe I lied. There is something better.
The game flies by in a blur of hits, shots, and shouts. The final buzzer sounds with the scoreboard glowing 5–2, and I don’t think I’ve smiled this hard in weeks.
We won.
Logan skates over, bumping my shoulder with his. “Nice work out there, Rhodes. Good to have you back.”
I flash him a crooked grin, my chest still heaving. It’s good to be back.
I don’t wait around. The second my skates hit the tunnel, I’m already tugging my gloves off, ready to find her.
She’s waiting near the exit, tucked beside Isabella and Aurora, the three of them huddled against the wall. Her eyes find mine instantly and her lips curl into the softest smile. It hits me right in the damn chest.
I slow to a stop in front of her, still fully geared up, sweat cooling under my pads, my breath hitching in my throat for a whole different reason now.
God, she’s so pretty, standing there in a denim jacket, and a white flowy dress, and those sky blue eyes I dream about.
The rink’s noise fades a little as I catch my breath, sweat dripping down my neck.
“Hey,” I say, smiling when I spot her watching me.
“Hey,” she echoes, looking up at me through those thick lashes. “You were incredible out there.”
I smirk, leaning in just a little. “Yeah?”
She nods, her lips twitching at the corners. “Not that I understand much about hockey, but watching you out there was fun.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “You came all the way out here just to tell me that?”
Maisie shrugs. “Thought you might need the ego boost.”
“From you? Always.”
She bites her lip, trying not to smile. “Though honestly, you probably don’t need it. You always seem to know how to get what you want.”
I step a little closer, my voice dropping to a murmur. “That’s because I’m a playmaker, baby. I know how to make moves when it counts.”
She pauses, her lips parting at the nickname that slipped from my tongue. Her eyes lock on mine, intrigue swimming in them. “What kind of moves?”
I close the gap between us, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. “The kind that get me exactly what I want.”
Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze.
I want to tell her straight up that she’s exactly what I want. But I hold back. Not wanting to scare her off.
“You coming out after?” I ask, running a hand through my damp hair.
She quirks a brow. “After?”
“We’re going to a bar to celebrate,” I tell her, taking a slow step forward and lowering my voice just a little. “I kinda want to see you there.”
Maisie’s lips part, but Isabella’s already grabbing her wrist. “We were planning on it, don’t worry,” she says, dragging her backward toward the exit.
Maisie casts one last look over her shoulder, that soft smile still lingering on her face. “Guess I’ll see you there, Rhodes.”
My name on her lips does something to me.
I stand there too long, just watching her disappear into the crowd.
Logan scoffs beside me and slaps a hand on my helmet. “Dude,” he says, with a teasing smirk. “You are so fucking gone for her.”
I don’t even try to deny it.
Yeah… I really am.
The bar’s packed. Loud and buzzing with leftover energy from the game. Everyone’s celebrating—shouting, laughing, drinking.
We’ve claimed a booth in the back. I’ve got a beer in one hand, my other arm slung casually over the back of the booth unable to stop looking at the door.
She should be here by now… right?
Ryan slides in next to me, his eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. “You gonna keep staring at the door all night or actually enjoy the fact that you crushed it tonight?”
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Shut up.” But I don’t stop looking.
And then, right on cue, the door swings open.
The girls step inside. Isabella, Aurora—and Maisie, right between them.
Her hair’s down now, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and she’s ditched the denim jacket and dress from earlier. She’s wearing a fitted top and jeans that hug every curve like they were made for her.
Full curves, soft stomach, and thick thighs I can’t stop thinking about. Those bright blue eyes shine under the lights and my eyes drift to her lips.
She hasn’t seen me yet.
Good.
Gives me a second to just… look.
“Jesus Christ,” Cole mutters. “You’re gonna burn a hole through her fucking jeans.”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t fucking look at her.”
He raises a brow at me. “Relax,” he says dryly. “I have no interest in your girl.”
I open my mouth to say she’s not my girl.
But the words don’t come.
Because she is.
She’s mine. My Maisie.
Logan chuckles. “You should just tell the girl you like her,” he says, reaching for a bowl of peanuts. “Or better yet, write her a love poem. ‘Dear Maisie, I’m a reformed slut, done with the wits. Pretty please let me touch your?—’”
“Logan,” Nathan cuts in, raising his brow.
“What?” Logan grins, tossing a peanut in his mouth. “I’m rooting for the himbo. Let him have his fairy-tale ending.”
I shake my head and sip my drink, trying to focus on anything else, but then Isabella slides into the booth, parking herself right on Ryan’s lap.
“Congrats on the win,” I hear her say.
Ryan hums something back, but I don’t look at them. Can’t.
Because Maisie’s still standing across the room, laughing at something Aurora says, and those perfect blue eyes are shining like summer lives inside her.
How is she real?
How in the hell did I not notice her before this year?
Ryan scoffs under his breath. “I don’t think he’s listening, baby. He’s kinda distracted right now.”
Isabella twists around on his lap to glance at me, then laughs. “You know I’m rooting for you bud, but… I think you’ve got some competition.”
That gets my attention.
My eyes snap to hers. “What?”
She shrugs. “She’s been talking to someone.”
My stomach drops.
I blink at her, trying to make sense of what the hell she’s telling me. “What do you mean she’s been talking to someone?”
“She’s got a crush on some other guy,” she tells me, making my stomach sink to my ass. “She told Aurora and me when we were helping her get ready for your date.”
Ryan chokes on his drink. “Wait. You went on a date?”
Nathan leans in from across the table, brows raised. “An actual date?”
But I’m not listening to either of them. My brain’s stuck on rewind, replaying Isabella’s words over and over, each repetition punching deeper than the last.
Maisie’s been talking to someone.
I feel it like a bruise blooming behind my ribs. That hollow, slow-spreading ache.
The memory rushes back—her face going pink that day in the lecture hall when I asked if she had a crush. Her dodging the question. Me teasing her about it. I didn’t really care about it at the time.
But now?
Now I care.
A lot.
And now I feel like a goddamn idiot for sitting here thinking about her smile, and practically drooling over her, when she’s probably been thinking about some other guy the whole time.
I sit back slowly, my fingers tightening around my glass. “Do you know who it is?”
Isabella shrugs again, completely oblivious to the way my chest is fucking caving in. “Some guy she talks to online. She said she doesn’t even know his real name.”
My stomach turns.
“She said he goes by a nickname.”
My throat goes dry.
I can feel the table around me. The noise. The guys still talking. But everything’s muffled now. Like I’m hearing it from the bottom of a swimming pool.
“What’s the nickname?”
Isabella scrunches her nose, thinking. “I don’t know… something weird. I think she said it was… Six?”
The word slices clean through me.
My chest locks up, my breath catching somewhere high in my throat.
Did she just say?—