Chapter 43
Jamie
Something I’ve always loved to do is people watch.
Not in like a creepy way or anything. It’s more because I like to see that other people aren’t perfect.
It’s also something my dad and I used to do together.
We’d sit at the park near our house for hours, always sitting on the same old bench with the chipped piece on the corner.
Families would rotate in and out with their toddlers throwing fits or enjoying their time on the small playground.
Joggers would pass us in steady loops, some focused and some clearly trying to outrun whatever their problems might’ve been.
Sometimes we’d overhear someone talking on the phone.
We’d make up stories about what their call was about.
It was like having little pieces of other people’s lives that weren’t meant for us, that took us away from whatever we were dealing with at the time.
I think that’s what I like about it. You can learn a lot about people when they don’t know anyone is paying attention.
And as I sit in the back row of the crowded auditorium, I watch as people enter and find their seats.
Faculty, parents, students all coming to see the show Ellie helped build.
She’s been stressed about this all week, and I’ve been doing my best to keep her calm.
Mostly that’s been giving her earth-shattering orgasms which has seemed to do the trick.
It’s been incredible getting to know her again.
Not the version I remember. The real one.
The woman she’s become. Ellie Monroe has always been brilliant, that part never changed.
But now I see everything I was too young and too stubborn to appreciate before.
Every day she lets me back into her world and lets me witness the woman she’s become, and every day I feel like the luckiest guy in the world to even be in her presence.
“Mr. Patterson? Are you here for the show?” a familiar voice asks.
When I look up, Dean Ashby is heading down the aisle, taking the empty seat next to mine.
I want to tell him to go find another fucking seat, but that would probably be frowned upon.
I’d also like to tell him that question is stupid.
What other reason would I be here for? The popcorn?
“I am. I assume you are too?”
He nods. “Of course. I’ve been looking forward to this all semester. Ms. Monroe is very talented.”
“She is,” I agree, turning back to face the stage. The red curtain sways under the slight breeze from people walking by. Ashby follows my line of vision, landing on the curtain.
“You did well with those boys this semester. They needed someone to take charge. They needed to learn to work together as a team. Whatever you did, I want you to do it again next semester.”
What the fuck? That’s the last thing I expected him to say.
Clearing my throat, I turn to face him, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, Martin. I uh… I don’t plan on returning next semester. My injury is just about healed, and I’ll be going back to the Storm to start training. But I’m glad I could help.”
His jaw ticks. “I understand. I figured that might happen. Can’t blame an old man for trying though, can you?” he asks with a low chuckle.
“No, I guess not,” I say with a shrug.
“Enjoy the show, Mr. Patterson. And good luck. The Storm is lucky to have you.”
Ashby stands from his seat and walks off, his hands in his pockets.
Well, that was fucking awkward.
Fifteen minutes later, the auditorium is packed to the brim.
I’ve been in arenas packed with twenty thousand people.
I’ve heard playoff crowds roar so loud the ice vibrated beneath my skates.
But this feels different. There’s no yelling, no whistles, not loud buzzers or horns.
It’s just people having quiet conversations, waiting patiently for the show to begin.
A spotlight glows on the middle of the stage.
The audience claps as the curtains rise, and when they do, the first thing I notice is Ellie standing just off to the side in the wings, a headset on and a clipboard tucked against her chest. She looks calm and determined.
She looks like she’s exactly where she belongs.
I know she’s said she prefers acting, and she’s insanely talented, but directing might by another way for her to go.
I lean back in my seat, my knee bouncing despite myself. I don’t get nervous watching hockey anymore; I don’t usually get nervous before games.
But watching something Ellie built from scratch? Watching the thing that she’s carefully constructed for all these months?
Yeah, I’m a little nervous.
Halfway through, the main actor, April, begins her monologue to Leo, who sits on a prop bench, watching her pace back and forth. For some reason, I’m completely entranced. The guys would totally be giving me shit if they saw me right now.
“And you know what no one tells you about love? That it’s terrifying.
At first it feels easy. You’ll have the butterflies and the late-night phone calls.
You’ll get that warm and fuzzy feelin’ when you see their name light up your screen.
You’ll believe in all the promises and all the dreams.” April pauses, walking to the other end of the stage, and whipping back to face Leo.
“But the terrifying part is what comes after all that. The moment you realize that this person matters enough to hurt you, that they have the means to change you, that losing them would actually break something inside your chest.”
Leo stands, but April, or Sherri, or whatever the hell her name is tells him to sit back down.
“I’m not finished, Charlie,” she chastises. “Now where was I?”
“The terror of love,” Leo’s character says, and the audience chuckles.
“Right. That’s when fear shows up. You keep one foot out the door, ready to walk away at any moment because it would be better to walk away than to get your heart broken.
You realize that you have no control over what happens to you,” she continues, tears flowing down her cheeks. Damn, this girl is good.
“Charlie, I see you. I see exactly who you are…flaws, fears, and all. And I choose you. That’s the bravest thing you can do, you know.
Choose someone, completely, no backup plans.
I know you think your life is over because of the factory going under.
But you are more than that place. There is more than one version of who you thought you’d be.
And loving me? God, loving me doesn’t change who you are. It just reminds you that your life is bigger when it’s shared.”
Suddenly, my knee isn’t bobbing anymore, my palms aren’t clammy, and my focus is on the woman in the wings. The woman that I love. The stubborn, determined, beautiful woman that I should have fought for all those years ago.
A few months ago, all I was worried about was when I was getting back in the game. I thought I’d never be whole again. Now? I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Ellie Monroe is it for me. She’s my reason, and hockey is a bonus.
The curtain drops, and for a second the auditorium is quiet. No one moves; no one speaks.
And when the curtains open again to reveal the cast, the auditorium explodes with applause and cheers. Everyone is on their feet. I’m already standing before I realize it, clapping so hard my palms sting.
While everyone looks at the stage, I look for her.
When the curtain finally closes for good, the audience begins to file out, and I head backstage. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be back here, but who gives a fuck? I need to congratulate my girl.
Backstage is chaos. The cast is crying and hugging, parents are handing them flowers and telling them how well they did even if all they did was stand there the entire time.
I push my way through, hoping to find Ellie through all the craziness. And then I see her. Everything else fades. When she’s in front of me, I see the tears in her eyes and the proud smile on her lips.
“You did it, baby” I say, my voice rougher than I expect.
Her breath shakes out in a laugh. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You fucking crushed it. I’m so proud of you.”
Her eyes search mine, like she’s checking for doubt. For sarcasm.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “You came.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Of course I came.”
“I didn’t think this would be your thing,” she says softly.
I grab her face between my palms, forcing her to look directly at me.
“You are my thing, and I’ll do anything for you, Ellie Monroe,” I tell her, and her tears begin to flow freely down her pink cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Not for a contract.
Not for money.
Not for fear.
I brush my thumb under her eye, wiping away her tears. “You know,” I say lightly, “I’ve played in some pretty big arenas.”
“I’m aware,” she sniffles.
“But this?” I glance toward the stage doors. “This might be the best show I’ve ever seen.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
“Let’s go home,” she says, taking my hand in hers.
As we walk out of the auditorium, I realize that for the first time, like ever, I feel completely whole. I can have both. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. And having Ellie back in my arms again… It’s the best fucking goal I’ve ever scored.