Chapter 29
TATE
Call Nettie – NOW – I’m heading to practice.
Three tix are waiting for you, my fiancée, and Shannon at the window for tonight’s game.
Friday morning dawned brighter than Tate could ever remember. The sunlight slanted across his dashboard as he sat parked outside the rink, fingers drumming the steering wheel, heart thumping in a rhythm that had nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with Nettie.
He had called his parents first, unable to hold back the news from them, and had been met with the kind of joy that made his chest ache in the best way. Now, his thumb hovered over his sister’s name in his contacts, but before that, there was one more call he needed to make. Emil.
He could barely contain the grin tugging at his mouth as he hit the button, his pulse racing with excitement. The line rang, and when Emil’s voice finally came through, it was full of dry skepticism.
“Interesting occurrence. It’s ten in the morning, and I thought for sure that vampires slept during the day. I’m assuming there is a problem?”
Tate’s laugh burst out of him, genuine and unrestrained. He leaned his head back against the seat, shaking it in disbelief that Emil could always meet his enthusiasm with such bone-dry wit.
“Well, that’s one way to respond,” Emil said smoothly. A moment later, the FaceTime request blinked across his screen. Tate accepted without hesitation. The sight of Emil, perfectly composed with a coffee mug in one hand, filled the screen. Tate’s grin widened until his cheeks ached.
“Good news?” Emil asked, his brows rising in mild curiosity.
“The best,” Tate replied, and for once, those two words felt like the understatement of his life.
“And you couldn’t wait to tell me, I take it, because you are in your car.” Emil chuckled knowingly. “What is going on?”
“I’m actually happy,” Tate admitted, marveling aloud as though he still needed to convince himself it was real.
“And I wanted to thank you for everything because I think I have a new outlook on life, my job, my home… everything. I’m honestly content with this incredible life I’ve been given—and Nettie has agreed to become my wife. ”
The words sent a ripple through him, powerful and grounding. Saying them aloud made everything feel more permanent, more undeniable.
“Ahhh.” Emil’s smile softened his sharp features. “I’m very happy for you, Tate. You deserve this happiness, this contentment, but our friendship doesn’t have to end.”
“I don’t want it to,” Tate said quickly, realizing how clumsy his earlier words might have sounded.
“I’m not calling to cancel or end things—but rather to tell you that I recognize how much I need to have a person on my side, part of my team, that is there to help me when I stumble or fall…
and I will.” His chuckle came easily, without shame.
“And if I do, it’s okay—because I have people like you, Nettie, Thierry, and even Coach C?te to set me straight or put me back in my place.
I don’t feel so helpless, so out of control. I feel stronger—because I’m not alone.”
“I’m so proud of you, Tate,” Emil said warmly, then gestured to his plate with a faint smirk. “I’m gonna get back to my coffee and scone now.”
Tate nodded, laughter bubbling out of him. “See you Wednesday night at six?”
“Tuesday, you little fiend,” Emil corrected with a wink. “Wednesday is Mike’s evening, and you know that already.”
Tate laughed harder, shaking his head as the call ended, but before he could slip the phone back into his pocket, it buzzed again.
OMIGOSH! OMIGOSH! YOU PROPOSED TO NETTIE? HOW AM I HEARING THIS HOURS LATER?
Tate smirked at the all-caps.
Caps lock?
He texted back before immediately hitting call. His sister answered on the first ring, her voice spilling out like an avalanche.
“Where are you?” Gina blurted before he could even say hello. “I can’t decide if I’m gonna wring your neck for making me wait—or hug you for finally giving in and falling for Nettie. My goodness, you are stubborn…”
“Hush,” he retorted, but the bite was gone from his voice. Instead, there was only warmth. “It was my secret to keep.”
“You’ve had a thing for her for years,” Gina pressed, her tone dripping with smug affection, even as it wavered with emotion. “Ever since she made you that stupid picture frame for Christmas.”
Tate’s smile faltered slightly, becoming softer, more private. “I know,” he admitted quietly, the memory tugging at him like an old song. He remembered the way his stomach had flipped, the way his chest had squeezed that day.
“Remember what she said?” he murmured.
“No. I just remembered the moment and how you stared at her. You were kinda creepy as a teenager, Tater-Tot.”
“Don’t call me that,” he said with a chuckle, though his sigh carried a weight of nostalgia.
His mind slipped back in time with frightening clarity: Nettie, younger, her dark hair falling into her face as she fumbled nervously with the clunky little frame she’d glued together.
Her big brown eyes had darted to his, nervous, almost shy, as though she feared he’d laugh at her effort.
Instead, she’d smiled, a tiny, uncertain curve of her lips, followed by a soft giggle that sounded like it got stuck in her throat. Then she whispered words that had embedded themselves into his soul.
“I know they’re just rocks but slowly over time, they turn into something beautiful, Tate.
I hope someday someone looks past the outer layer to see what could be, you know?
Life could be so amazing if everyone realized that it just takes a little hard work to make something special—and if a rock can shine after a month of getting tossed around in some dirt and sand, just think what we could do, if we tried? ”
Tate swallowed hard at the memory. He had been struck dumb back then, unable to comprehend how someone so young, so goofy, could see the world with such wisdom.
He still had that frame, battered but cherished, a photo of him and Nettie nestled inside—two people who had taken years to finally collide, yet always seemed to be orbiting each other.
“Can you help her with the plans for the wedding?” Tate asked gruffly, trying to mask the emotion that thickened his throat. “I want her to have her every wish, her fairy tale—even if she’s marrying the villain in the story.”
“Oh, Tate,” Gina whispered, her voice catching. “You’re not the bad guy you think you are. You’ve always been her prince—and it was me who thought you were a troll when we were kids.”
He dragged a hand over his face, dashing away a rogue tear before it could betray him.
“I’m glad you’re my brother—and I’m so happy that growing up has brought a maturity that we both desperately needed. I know I certainly needed a wakeup call, and I think I finally got it yesterday. But yes - I would be honored to spend your money, bro.”
That cracked him. Tate laughed, tears spilling this time, and Gina joined in with the easy rhythm only a sister could carry.
“Maybe we’ll do a theme wedding for Nettie, a big dinner, yoooo—” she cackled, her excitement taking over. “We could hire a deejay and play a bunch of mushy romantic songs…”
“Whatever my wife chooses is fine,” Tate interrupted pointedly, wiping his eyes. “I’ve gotta get to practice or there won’t be money to spend.”
“Byeeeee!”
The line went dead, leaving Tate in the car with nothing but the steady hum of his heart and a grin that refused to fade.
Nettie was his future. His family was by his side.
Now, he needed to share the good news with the team, and he couldn’t wait, knowing they would be overjoyed for him as well.
He was exactly where he was meant to be – and knew it.
Climbing out of his Porsche, he hesitated as Gina’s words replayed in his mind at the same moment he saw Justin walking into the building in the distance, looking miserable. No, he would keep his mouth shut, head down, and focus on his own relationship.
His sister could handle hers.
Tate shifted from one foot to the other, unable to keep still on the narrow strip of rubber matting that led out to the ice.
His skates bit into the surface, clicking softly with every bounce as his entire body thrummed with anticipation.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, rolling each name out like a drumbeat, building the energy higher with every player who took the ice.
One by one, his teammates burst through the tunnel, soaking in their moment as thousands of fans clapped, whistled, and thundered their approval.
And Tate?
He was vibrating with it. His chest felt too tight for the air he kept gulping in. This was it—his moment.
The crowd was electric tonight—every flash of light from a camera, every chant from the stands, every banner waving above the boards feeding into him like pure adrenaline. And yet, even as the excitement buzzed around him, his thoughts drifted to something more private. More permanent.
The guys had gone nuts earlier when the news slipped out.
A few slaps to his helmet. A couple of ribbing jokes.
But mostly? Genuine cheers from men who knew what it meant.
So many of them had wives waiting in the stands, or kids learning to skate, or families they were raising in between road trips and games.
Tate finally understood that balance now—the split life between the roar of the rink and the quiet moments at home.
He wanted that. He wanted every bit of it. The family dinners. The chaotic mornings before school. PTA meetings, he never imagined himself attending. He wanted all of it… with Nettie.
The announcer’s voice rose above the noise.
“And number seventy… Tate Cassidy!”
The sound crashed over him like a tidal wave, and Tate shot forward with a whoop that came from somewhere deep in his chest. His arms flung high above his head, fists pumping the air, beckoning the crowd to get even louder.
He didn’t have to ask twice. The place erupted.
People were on their feet, stomping, clapping, screaming his name.
His heart pounded as he carved onto the ice, the blades slicing through with a satisfying hiss.
He turned a slow circle, grinning until his cheeks hurt, feeding off the crowd’s energy.
His gaze snagged on the bench where Coach C?te stood, arms crossed, face unreadable as always.
Tate gave him a firm thumbs-up, and in return, the man dipped his head once.
A quiet nod. The kind that said good job, kid.
And then—darkness.
The arena lights dropped without warning, plunging everything into shadow except for the single brilliant spotlight that locked onto him. Tate froze mid-glide, breath fogging in the cool air as the announcer’s voice thundered again, this time with a grin he could hear from a mile away.
“And ladies—number seventy is now officially off the market! Tate Cassidy proposed to his girlfriend, and she accepted his offer of marriage!”
The crowd went insane. The noise rattled the rafters. It wasn’t just applause—it was a wave of sound that crashed into him, pushed through him, shook him to his very core.
The light followed as he skated toward the side, his chest swelling with pride and disbelief. Then, suddenly, another beam of white cut across the ice—and landed squarely on Nettie.
His Nettie.
She stood there in the stands, wearing his number proudly across her chest, and the sight of her hit him harder than any check he’d ever taken.
Her smile was radiant, wide and unguarded, as if she belonged under that spotlight just as much as he did.
She was glowing. Beaming. Beautiful in a way that made his knees feel like they might buckle, even with steel under his feet.
Tate slowed, drawing in a breath he couldn’t quite catch, and then lifted his hand.
He pressed his lips to his glove before blowing a kiss across the rink.
For a split second, it felt like the entire arena fell away, and it was only them—her laugh, her joy, her love washing over him from where she stood.
Yeah, she’d been right all along. Every practice, every game, every grueling road trip, every loss, every win—it had all been preparing him for this. Not just the career. Not just the glory. But the life they were about to build together.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, his voice carrying over the roar of the arena.
“I love you, Sticks!”
The fans devoured it, cheering louder, stamping their feet until the boards rattled. Some whistled. Some clapped. Others chanted his number in unison, the sound shaking the roof beams. But Tate only had eyes for the woman in his jersey, the woman who was his future.
And as the roar rose higher, Tate knew without a doubt—this was just the beginning of their very own fairy tale, their happily ever after, and it wasn’t because he made captain, or scored a goal, or even brought his team to the finals.
It was because of her.
Nettie.