Chapter ELEVEN Wes
I’m sprawled on my bed, the ceiling above me a blank canvas for the shadow-play of my worries. My phone is a cold weight in my hand, its screen dark and silent, reflecting nothing of the storm brewing inside me. Mom's voice still echoes in my ears, her forced cheerfulness not enough to mask the fatigue that clung to each word. It's like she's fading with every call, slipping through my fingers, and I'm miles away, powerless. She doesn’t want me to come home—thinking of me, my future, school, hockey.
A vibration jolts me from my thoughts. A text message flashes up. Lexi. Can we talk? There's an urgency in those simple words, a silent plea that doesn’t go unnoticed despite the fog of my own troubles.
"Sure," I type back, more out of reflex than desire. “Coffee shop again?" My thumb hovers over the send button, reluctant. Talking means opening up, letting someone see the cracks. But it’s Lexi. If anyone gets the chaos of this life, it's her. The girl who rebounded from a shattered knee to chase a new dream, who knows what it's like when life body checks you into the boards.
Sent.
I push off the bed, wincing, a sudden urge to move overtaking the inertia and the pain of my shoulder. The MRI showed nothing permanent—but Drew says I was damned lucky, the way I pushed it. I’m not sure how Jacobs made out, but I do know that he had to be in more pain than me, with that annoying Cassidy hanging all over him in the med office.
This room feels too small for my restlessness, too full of the silence that echoes with the unsaid. I need to get out, need the sharp bite of winter to clear my head. Maybe talking to someone will help me find some perspective. Mom wouldn't want me wallowing anyway. She's all about facing challenges head-on, with a mixture of stubbornness and grace I can never seem to replicate. But maybe, just maybe, with Lexi, I can try.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, head bowed against the cold as I make my way through the campus. Each step feels like I'm skating through slush, slow and dragging, the weight of worry for Mom grounding me more than gravity ever could. The night air bites at any exposed skin, and with each breath, I can almost feel the chill settling in my bones.
The snow underfoot offers a soft crunch, a constant reminder that life goes on, indifferent to the turmoil churning inside me. Students laugh and chatter around me, their voices muffled by the knit caps and scarves wrapped tight against the winter wind. They're in their own worlds, oblivious to the storm in mine.
"Hey, Wes," Lexi's voice cuts through the frosty air as I approach our spot. She's already there, leaning against the thick trunk of the oak tree out front, arms crossed. Even in the dim light, I can see the concern etched across her face.
"Lexi," I nod, stuffing my hands deeper into my coat pockets. "You wanted to talk?"
She unfolds her arms and steps closer, green eyes searching mine. "I've noticed you've been off lately. More than usual, I mean." A wry smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but it’s a fake. "Is everything okay?"
"Define 'okay,'" I say, deflecting with sarcasm—my go-to defense mechanism.
"Come on, Wes. Don't do that." Her tone is soft, but firm. "That stunt today, taking that risk—I know something's up. Is it about your mom?"
I hesitate, feeling the wall I've built around myself starting to crumble. There's no point in pretending with Lexi; she sees right through me. "It's just... things aren't great," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. It's the most I've said to anyone about it, and even this feels like revealing too much.
"Talk to me," she urges gently, stepping even closer. "You don't have to go through this alone."
There's a battle raging within me: the desire to keep everything locked down tight versus the need to let someone in. But it's Lexi—steadfast, unflappable Lexi—who's asking. And damn it if part of me doesn't want to spill everything to her, to let her shoulder some of this burden.
"Her treatments aren't working the way they hoped," I choke out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "We're running out of options, and... I don't know what to do. She doesn’t want me there, though. I grew up poor, Lex. Without my scholarship money, no college. And without hockey, no scholarship. So that risk …"
"Hey..." Lexi's hand finds mine, her grip warm and reassuring. "You're doing everything you can. Your mom knows that. And I'm here for you, Wes. Whatever you need."
I never thought I'd find relief in sharing my fears, especially not with someone who could bench-press them away with such ease. But as Lexi stands with me, her presence a beacon in the shadow of my worries, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I thought.
I slump down onto the frost-covered bench, drawing in a breath that feels like inhaling icicles. Lexi sits beside me, her body radiating a warmth that seems to defy the winter chill encasing us. I glance at her, and there's this earnest concern in her eyes that makes my chest tighten.
"Mom's always been the strong one," I say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. "Now she's so frail, hooked up to machines, and I can't do anything." My throat constricts as if the cold has crept inside, turning words into fragile things that might shatter if spoken too loudly.
"Her laughter used to fill our whole apartment," I continue, the memories spilling out of me now like water from a dam that's finally burst. "She'd dance around the kitchen, terrible moves and all, just to make me laugh.”
Lexi's hand finds its way over mine, enveloping it with a comfort that's both foreign and familiar. She doesn't speak—doesn't have to. Her touch says everything her words don't.
"Sometimes I imagine getting the call," I confess, the icy dread that's haunted me for months leaking into my voice. "The one saying she's gone, and I..." My breath hitches, and I can't go on.
We sit in a silence that stretches between us—the kind that's thick with unspoken understanding and shared heartache. The snowfall seems to quiet the world around us, muffling everything until there's nothing left but the two of us and the weight of my reality.
And then, slowly, I feel something shift inside me, like a burden being partitioned, made lighter by the simple act of sharing it. It's not a fix, not a solution, but for the first time in longer than I can remember, the crushing pressure in my chest eases just enough for me to breathe.
“Let’s skip the coffee and walk,” she suggests.
I nod.
I follow Lexi through the throng of students, away from the solemnity of our earlier conversation. She leads me into the heart of the campus, where the air is laced with laughter and chatter, the kind that seems to come easy to everyone but me. It's like stepping into another world, one painted in vibrant colors against the stark white backdrop of winter.
The quad is adorned with strings of twinkling lights that hang from tree to tree like stars plucked from the night sky. Soft music plays somewhere in the distance, a melody gentle enough not to disrupt the serene scene. I can see my breath in the air, mingling with the scents of pine and hot cocoa—simple pleasures that feel a million miles away from the cold grip of reality.
"Look up," she murmurs suddenly, nodding toward the sky.
Above us, tacked to an archway, hangs a sprig of mistletoe, its green leaves stark against the wooden frame. My heart hitches, and the noise around us fades into a low buzz. There’s no escaping the tradition it stands for—a kiss.
"Guess it's meant to be," she teases, her voice lower than before, but I catch the flicker of hesitation.
"Or it's a trap set by the universe." A half-smile tugs at my lips, but my pulse races, betraying my attempt at humor. She’s close, too close, and under any other circumstances, I wouldn't hesitate. But there’s too much between us now, too many unspoken truths that linger in the space of our silence.
"Maybe," Lexi concedes, her gaze locked on mine. "But aren't you curious?"
"About what?" I ask, though I'm painfully aware of the tension that crackles between us, electric and inviting.
"About whether the universe knows what it's doing." Her words are a challenge, a spark that threatens to ignite the moment into something neither of us may be ready for.
"Are you?" The question slips out, a whisper of desire mixed with the undeniable fear of crossing a line we've so carefully drawn.
"Terrified," she admits, but there's a brave smile on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual dare hanging above us.
"Good." I swallow hard, inching closer until the heat of her body seeps into mine. "Because so am I."
For a long beat, we simply stand there, our breath mingling in the frosty air, a testament to the connection that's always simmered below the surface. But the moment lingers, heavy with possibility and the sweet promise of something more. Time stands still, the kind of silence that's loud in its anticipation. I feel Lexi's breath hitch as my resolve crumbles like thin ice beneath a heavy skate. It's the tilt of her head, the softness in her gaze that’s both an invitation and a surrender. My own heart pounds, a relentless drumbeat urging me forward.
"Lexi," I breathe out, my voice rough with emotion that's been dammed up for far too long.
"Kiss me, Wes," she whispers back, her words a flickering flame to my kindling spirit.
And then, I'm closing the distance, the few inches between us feeling like miles until they're not. My hand finds the curve of her jaw, gentle yet unyielding, as though it's always belonged there. Her skin is warm against the chill of the night, a contrast that sends shivers down my spine.
Our lips touch, and it's like the first true thaw of spring after a harsh Minnesota winter. Soft and tentative at first, but growing bolder with each heartbeat. There's a hunger there, a yearning that's been hidden behind jokes and snappy comebacks. The world narrows down to the press of her mouth against mine, sweet and intoxicating.
The kiss deepens, and it's as if we're both trying to communicate everything we've ever felt in this single moment. The electric spark that ignites between us is palpable, racing through our veins and setting every nerve alight. We're drawing from a well of emotions that’s been filled over time with shared glances, heated debates on the ice, and the quiet understanding of two souls intertwined by fate.
When we finally part, it's with a reluctance that speaks volumes. Our foreheads rest together, and we're breathing each other's air, lost in a sea of raw emotion. I can see the galaxies swirling in Lexi's wide, luminous eyes—a mix of excitement, uncertainty, and hope.
"Wow," she exhales, her voice a tender caress that somehow says more than any grand declaration ever could.
"Yeah," I agree, my thumb brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "Wow."
In this charged silence, under the watchful gaze of the mistletoe, we stand rooted to the spot, unwilling to break the spell that's enveloped us. It’s a precipice we're both hesitant and eager to explore, the beginning of something neither of us can quite name but are desperate to discover.
"Under the mistletoe," Lexi murmurs with a laugh that holds the promise of all the banter and flirtation to come, now colored with the hue of romance blooming in the cold winter air.
"Under the mistletoe," I echo, knowing that whatever happens next, this moment—this perfect, fragile moment—has changed everything.
"Better?" Her voice is gentle, an anchor in the swirling sea of my mind.
"Much," I admit, squeezing her hand, feeling the soft warmth of her skin against mine. The touch is grounding, real—more real than the ice beneath my skates or the weight of a puck on my stick.
We stop walking, and without a word, we turn to face each other. It's as if our bodies are drawn together by a magnetic force we can't resist, even if we wanted to. She slips into my arms, fitting perfectly against me, her head resting just below my chin. I wrap her up, holding her close, and for a moment, there's nothing else. No sick mother, no hockey pressures, no uncertain future. Just Lexi.
"Thank you," I murmur into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the crisp winter air. "For listening. For... understanding."
Her voice vibrates against my chest, and I can feel her smile. "That's what friends are for, right? And maybe... maybe more than friends?"
"Definitely more," I say with a certainty that surprises me. "I don't know what comes next, but I know I want you in it."
"Come on, superstar," she teases, tugging at my hand as we start moving again. "Let's get you back before you turn into a bruised popsicle. Even Minnesota girls have their limits."
"Lead the way," I say, content to follow her anywhere.
As we walk back to the dorms, our footsteps leaving twin trails in the snow, I realize that this is where I’m meant to be. Right here, with Lexi Turner, her hand in mine, looking forward to whatever the future holds—together. Our laughter is quiet, a shared secret between only us and the night. It's crazy how one kiss can shift everything, how opening up to someone can make you feel like you're not shouldering the world alone anymore. There's something about Lexi—the way she challenges me, pushes me, cares for me—that makes me believe it’s possible to face whatever lies ahead.
But I’m not sure what that is—and I’m honestly scared.