7. Jackson
Jackson
The moment the new letter hit my hands, everything else faded.
It was like getting more ice time in a world that was terrifyingly real and beautifully simple.
I found myself sitting in the back booth of a loud, dimly lit bar with the rest of the team.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, cheap beer, and the desperate, floral perfume of the puck bunnies who always seemed to find us.
They were everywhere tonight, draped over the bar and leaning into our table with practiced pouts and eyes that only saw the jersey, not the man wearing it.
“Hey Jackson, why so quiet tonight?” a blonde in a crop top asked, sliding onto the bench next to me and resting a manicured hand on my arm.
I gave her a polite, distant smile, the kind I’d perfected for media days, and gently moved my arm to grab my drink.
I had zero interest. To her, I was a starting defenseman with a nice contract; to the man who wrote me from a desert tent, I was just Jackson, the guy who couldn’t cook bacon.
I felt the envelope in my inner jacket pocket, the paper a physical weight against my chest. The sheer audacity of someone in a war zone taking the time to respond to my stories made me so happy.
While Logan was busy entertaining a small crowd of fans with stories from practice, a rare night out for him, I was mentally tracing the little cartoon duck drawn next to Splash’s signature.
He was the only person who seemed to care about the real Jackson.
He asked about my king-size bed and cookies, and the exchange felt light, funny, and desperately normal.
When I read his words, the noise of the bar and the fluttering fans faded, and I could almost feel the quiet of his base under the stars.
His honesty was a refreshing contrast to the polished PR responses I gave daily.
With Splash, I didn’t have to be a superstar.
This connection felt like a new game plan, a secret sanctuary where words mattered more than stats.
I just needed to get home, away from the bright lights and the noise, so I could finally write back and tell him I was thinking of him.