30. Austin
AUSTIN
I don’t usually get nervous before games.
But today, I keep glancing up at the stands.
I’ve already untaped and re-taped my stick twice. My fingers are twitching nonstop—tugging at the hem of my jersey, cracking my knuckles, fidgeting with the pads I’ve worn the same way for three years.
Because today, my mom and sister are coming.
And Maisie’s here too.
Which is fine. Totally fine. I’m not freaking out or anything.
Okay, I am. It’s just… I’ve never really had anyone to bring around before. Never introduced a girl to my family.
So yeah, I’m nervous as hell.
Before I even pull on my helmet, I crouch down by my skates like I always do. I press two fingers to my lips, then tap them to the side of each skate.
“Don’t let me down boys,” I murmur.
I drag my hands through my hair, stand up, and blow out a breath.
When I push open the locker room door and walk out onto the bench, the sound hits me instantly. The arena’s already packed. People are banging on the glass. It’s loud. Hot. Tense. Everything I love about hockey.
I’m still buzzing when I skate toward center ice, adrenaline pounding in my veins.
Ryan smacks me on the helmet as he settles into position.
I glance up, scanning the stands, finding her in seconds.
Maisie’s leaning forward against the railing, the crowd packed tight around her, but she’s the only thing I see. Her hair’s tucked into the collar of her puffer jacket, and she’s squinting through the glass, scanning the ice.
Searching for me.
And when her gaze finally locks onto mine, she smiles. Slow. Soft. My heart thuds like I’ve taken a puck to the chest. That smile of hers floors me. Every single time.
I skate a little closer, grinning up at her. I tap my stick against the boards and blow her a kiss, because I’m an idiot and I don’t know what else to do with all this—whatever the hell it is that’s been building, shifting, twisting in my chest since the second I met her.
One corner of her mouth tips up. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she’s still smiling as she lifts the cup and takes a sip out of her drink.
God, I’m a goner.
“Jesus, get a room,” Logan mutters as he coasts by.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause your last hookup ghosted you,” I shoot back with a grin.
Logan tuts, shaking his head. “Correction. I ghosted him.”
I let out a scoff. “Yeah, somehow I don’t believe you.”
Logan holds a hand to his chest. “Unbelievable. No faith in your boy.”
Nathan doesn’t say anything from behind his goalie mask as he stretches near the crease.
“Alright, focus,” Ryan yells as he skates to center ice, voice sharp over the buzz of the crowd. “We can take these guys. Coach said if we win, wings are on him.”
“Tell him I want extra fries,” I call, coasting up beside him.
“You’ll get celery sticks and you’ll fucking thank me for it,” Coach shouts from behind the bench.
I laugh, but my stomach’s buzzing. Not hunger or nerves, just pure fucking adrenaline on steroids. There’s something about tonight. Maybe it’s the home crowd, maybe it’s that I saw Maisie, maybe it’s the fact that my mom and sister are somewhere up in those stands, watching.
Cole doesn’t say a word. Just cracks his neck and chews his gum like he’s ready to body slam someone through the glass.
Ryan glances around the line-up. Nods once.
We line up. Puck drop.
Game fucking on.
Nathan makes a sick glove save early on—snatches the puck right out of the air. Logan picks up the rebound, swings it to Ryan, and I’m already moving, skating like my life depends on it. Ryan sends a clean pass up center. I take it and cut left, fast, ducking past one defender, then two.
Then I fake right and shoot.
Goal.
Top shelf, baby.
We’re up 1–0 before the five-minute mark.
“Let’s fucking go.” I skate toward the guys and fist-bump Logan.
Second period, we’re still holding the lead.
Cole nails a breakaway, stone-cold expression the whole way down the ice, and slaps one into the back of the net.
We’re on fire tonight. Tight passes. Clean shifts.
Our D is solid, and Nathan’s a wall back there.
They’ve only managed to score once tonight, and if we keep it up, we’ll get the win.
I get another goal midway through the third and the place erupts in cheers.
I wanna look so bad, wanna sneak a peek to the stands and see if they’re out there cheering for me.
I don’t let myself look yet. Not until the final buzzer blares and the crowd fucking explodes as we win 4-1.
I rip my helmet off and skate in to tackle Ryan in a hug. Logan jumps on both of us, crushing me in the process. Cole just stands there watching us, the corner of his lips lifting an inch before he skates off.
Nathan gives me a shoulder bump once we’re back on our feet, smiling under his mask.
My heart is racing with adrenaline and I finally allow myself to glance up and look for them.
I spot Mom and Scarlett first.
They’re near the top of the stands, bundled in scarves and puffer coats, holding up a massive glittery-ass sign that reads RHODES RAGE in all caps, with sparkles.
I let out a breathless laugh, skating in lazy circles during our cool-down, wondering where the hell I’m going to store that thing—because of course I’m keeping it.
And then my eyes find my girl, halfway down the bleacher steps, weaving through the crowd. She’s looking down, focused on not tripping over someone’s feet, and then she glances up.
Her eyes lock on mine. Just for a second.
And my heart thuds against my chest.
I hear you, buddy. I know .
I tear off my gloves the second we hit the tunnel, still high off the win, sweaty, and half-grinning like an idiot. My ribs are sore. My legs are shot. But none of it matters. Not when she’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me.
“You were amazing,” she says the moment I reach her.
I can’t spend a minute away from her, clearly, because the minute she’s in front of me, I grab her face in my hands and lean down to kiss her. “You came,” I breathe against her lips.
“Of course I came,” she replies breathlessly, blinking up at me. “I will always come for you.”
I can’t help it. My lips tip up in a smirk and I wag my brows at her. “Oh yeah?”
She smacks my chest lightly, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make this weird.”
I laugh, running a hand through my hair which is drenched. “It’s already weird. Because my mom and sister are here, and they really want to meet you.”
Her face goes pale. “Wait. What? Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because if I told you, you’d freak out, and if you freaked out, you wouldn’t come, and then I’d have to explain to my mom why the girl I’m obsessed with doesn’t actually exist.”
She blinks slightly, her pretty lips lifting into a shy smile. “You’re obsessed with me?” she asks, as if she heard me wrong.
“Painfully,” I assure her, lace my fingers through hers. “Come on, it’ll be fine. They’re normal.” I pause, squinting at her. “Ish.”
“Austin,” Maisie hisses, her eyes flicking down to her outfit. “I’m not dressed to meet your mom.”
My eyes drift down—black hoodie, jeans, knockout body that makes my mouth water. “You look beautiful,” I tell her.
She shakes her head, a cute flush coating her cheeks. “You’re biased.”
“Exactly. I’m the only opinion that matters.” I grab her hand, lift it, and kiss the back of it. “You’re good, baby. I promise.”
“I’m scared,” she admits, swallowing hard. “I don’t want her to hate me.”
“She won’t.” I tug her a little closer. “My mom doesn’t hate anyone. Least of all her son’s first girlfriend.”
Maisie blushes, smiling at that word. It was a shock when she first called me her boyfriend, but nothing has ever felt so right either.
I rip my eyes away from her when I see my sister standing under the stairs. Mom’s standing beside her, bundled up in her coat, waving us over. We head toward them, and Maisie’s grip on my hand tightens just a little.
“There’s my boy,” Mom says, pulling me in for a hug. “That was one hell of a game.”
“You say that every time,” I murmur with a chuckle.
“And I’m never wrong.” She pulls back, smiling, then her eyes shift to Maisie. “And you must be Maisie,” Mom says, already stepping in for a hug.
Maisie blinks. “Yeah—uh, yes. I’m Maisie. It’s really nice to meet you.”
Mom wraps her arms around her, giving her a squeeze before pulling back. “I’ve heard all about you. I’m Erin. And this—” she gestures to Scarlett, who’s standing next to mom with the glittery sign still in her hands— “this is Scarlett.”
“Hi, Scarlett.” Maisie smiles. “Love the sign.”
My sister arches a brow. “Austin told us you weren’t his girlfriend,” she says, eyeing me up. “Is that still true?”
I groan. “Scarlett.”
She shrugs. “Just saying. You said it very clearly. Multiple times.”
I slide my arm around Maisie’s waist, glancing down at the best thing that’s ever happened to me. “Well, clearly I was an idiot.”
“I knew it,” she says, pointing an accusatory finger at me.
“You knew nothing,” I say, pulling her into a side hug. She yells at me for being sweaty and gross, which only makes me hug her tighter.
Mom’s watching the two of us, then her eyes shift back to Maisie.
“My son can be a lot,” she says. “But he’s got a good heart. I’m glad he found someone who sees it.”
Maisie shifts her weight. Tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad he saw me,” she says quietly, glancing up at me.
I squeeze her hand.
My chest is still buzzing from the game, from the adrenaline and the noise and the win. But nothing hits harder than this moment right here.
“Have you played anything new?” my sister asks.
I shrug, running a hand through my damp hair. “Yeah. A few things.” I glance at Maisie without meaning to. “Got inspired.”
Maisie lets out a soft laugh. “He plays constantly,” she tells my sister. “He even woke me up in the middle of the night the other day to play me a song.”
Scarlett’s head jerks toward her. “Wait. You’ve heard him play?”
Maisie pauses, glancing at me like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to say more. “Um. Yeah… a few times.”
Scarlett turns to me, her eyes widened. “You never play for anyone. Like, ever.”
Maisie stares at me for confirmation, her lips parted in shock.
I scratch the back of my neck. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Scarlett shakes her head slowly, then looks back at Maisie with a grin. “He’s lying. It’s a huge deal.”
My mom nods in agreement. “He wouldn’t even play for his grandma’s birthday.”
Christ. They do not know how to play cool, do they?
Scarlett looks back at me, her lips twitching in a cocky smirk. “You must really love her.”
Okay, someone please muzzle her.
Maisie’s eyes flick to mine. Her lips part, like she’s about to say something, but luckily for both of us, she doesn’t.
I clear my throat, yanking at the collar of my jersey. “Okay. Let’s move on before I strangle my sister,” I joke, avoiding Maisie’s eyes.
We hang out near the stands for a while. Mom’s chatting with Maisie about her classes, Scarlett’s going on about making junior varsity volleyball—which I groan at.
“I cannot believe my own blood would betray me with a sport that doesn’t involve blades or a puck,” I say, slinging an arm over her shoulder.
She rolls her eyes. “Sorry I don’t want to skate around smashing into people like a caveman,” she says, ducking out from under it. “And I’m not playing a sport where I might lose teeth.”
“Losing teeth builds character,” I mutter, mostly to Maisie, who just chuckles and rolls those eyes that knocked me on my ass from day one.
I’m very aware that I’m smiling like a damn idiot, but I can’t stop.
Not when I look at the three of them—my mom, my sister, and the girl who’s somehow tangled herself into everything I care about—and my chest feels tight in the best possible way.
I just want to pause this moment and live in it forever.
At some point, Mom touches my arm, pulling me a few feet away.
“She brings out a version of you I haven’t seen in a while,” she says, pursing her lips. “I like her.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s good, considering she’s my girlfriend.”
Mom studies me for a second. Then her lips tug into a small smile. “You’ve got that look,” she says.
My brows knit together. “What look?”
“You love her,” she adds quietly.
I don’t answer.
But I don’t deny it, either.
She hums and strolls off to show Maisie my embarrassing baby pics.
Did I say my family was normal? Yeah, I take it back.
They’re loud and embarrassing as hell… but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.