Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
I’m dressed, ready for the ceremony—or as ready as I’ll ever be.
I sit down on the bed and let out a long breath.
The dresser in front of me is covered with trophies and awards from Little League to high school.
I never took any of these with me. It felt better that they stay here with everything else from those years of my life. I wanted a fresh start. And I got it.
Whitney steps into the doorway of my room. When she spots me sitting on the bed, she smiles.
My heart stops. “Wow.”
She tried to warn me about the dress, but I think I swallowed my tongue.
“Is it too much for the occasion?” She stares down at the outfit.
“Who the fuck cares?” I can’t quit staring at her. The black dress dips low in the front and is tight against her curves. When my gaze gets to her feet, I chuckle. She’s wearing her purple Converse.
“In my rush, I may have forgotten shoes to match the sexy dress,” she says. Her laughter eases the tension in my neck and shoulders.
“It’s perfect. You look . . . perfect.” Warmth spreads through my chest. I can’t believe she flew all the way to Washington for me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her hands come up to rest on the front of my dress shirt. She adjusts the knot of my tie and then smooths her fingers down to the center of my chest. When her gaze flicks up, those brown eyes spark with fire.
“I have something for you,” I say.
“For me?”
I take a step back from her, then walk over to my bag to grab the gift I got her. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, but I’ve been carrying them around with me for a week or so.”
Whitney doesn’t move but eyes me—or more specifically the jewelry box with a look of surprised curiosity.
I’ve never given a woman jewelry before, so I’m not quite sure how it’s supposed to go. Should I have wrapped it? Guess it’s too late now.
I clear my throat as I move back and hold out the box to her. She takes it, glancing up at me again before she slowly opens it.
“Conrad!” Her voice is quiet, and she sucks in a sharp breath as she stares down at the diamond earrings.
A jolt of nerves, not entirely unpleasant, hums in my veins. “I noticed since Houston you haven’t been wearing the others.”
“I kept meaning to replace the back for the one I lost.” She’s still laser-focused on the inside of the box, gawking at the earrings but not touching them.
“If you don’t like them—”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “Are you kidding? I love them! This is so nice, but you didn’t need to do this.”
“I fucked you out of your other ones, remember?” I joke. “That was a proud moment for me.”
“All I needed was a new back for one of them,” she reminds me again.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know how to do that. This was easier.” And way more fun.
Short, strained laughter leaves her lips. “These are stunning and entirely too much. Thank you.”
“I would have gone bigger, but the sales lady said they weren’t very practical for everyday wear.”
She laughs again. This time, the sound is melodic and happy. “Should I wear them tonight?”
“They’re yours.” I shrug.
I lean against the dresser as she puts them on. My heart’s racing the entire time. I don’t know if it’s her or the impending speech, but I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Once she’s done, she tucks her hair behind her ears to show them off.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“Gorgeous, but you always are.”
“Always so charming.” Whitney steps to me and presses her body to mine. She places a quick kiss to my lips and then meets my stare. “How are you feeling about tonight?”
“Like I’d rather stay here and try to fuck you out of another pair of earrings.”
Her lips pull into a wide smile. “Later.”
I’m going to cling to that promise like a lifeline.
At the high school, I park and stare at the brick building. I haven’t been back since graduation, but it looks exactly the same.
The ping of Whitney’s phone pulls my attention to her. I can’t read her expression, but it’s something like concern.
“Everything okay?”
Her face flushes. “Yeah. It’s great. Sorry. One second.”
She taps out what I assume is a reply without any more explanation and then tucks her phone into her purse. After, she gives me her undivided attention.
“You don’t have to hide that you’re talking with Victor,” I tell her.
Her brows tug together, and I motion toward her purse.
“I know. That wasn’t Victor. It was . . . doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head, then hits me with a big smile. “Ready to do this?”
“No,” I say through a strained laugh. “But the ceremony starts in ten minutes, so I suppose we should go in before they think I’ve bailed.”
I move to open the door, but Whitney places a hand on my leg and stops me with a single word.
“Wait.”
Gladly. I sink back into the driver’s seat.
“I know how much you didn’t want to do this and how big of a deal it is that you agreed anyway. Coach Carson might not realize the sacrifice, but I do. It’s inspiring. You inspire me.”
“Me?” I stop trying to hide my nerves from her. I doubt I was succeeding before anyway. “The guy over here shaking like a leaf inspires you?”
I hold up a hand to show her I’m literally shaking.
“Yes, you.” She threads her fingers through mine and squeezes.
“You’re kind and generous and so much braver than you give yourself credit for.
You already did the hard thing. You survived this place and became a professional hockey player.
Coming back here and honoring your coach is just one more example of you doing right by the people you care about regardless of what’s easy or comfortable. ”
“Coach Carson did a lot for me too.” I let out a slow breath. “What if I get up there in front of everyone and choke?”
“You won’t.”
“I might. Just the thought of standing up there and looking out at all those people has my throat tightening.” With my free hand, I run my fingers down the front of my neck.
“Then keep your eyes on me.”
“Okay.” I nod, steadying my breathing. “I’m ready.”
Like everything else, the high school hockey arena hasn’t changed a bit.
Whitney and I are led past the ticket table to the weight room.
She squeezes my hand as we step inside. Chairs have been pulled into the middle of the room for seating, but everyone stands.
I scan the group of people quickly, my pulse picking up speed.
Coach Carson is the first to speak.
“Conrad Shepard!” He starts toward me, grinning from ear to ear. He looks exactly the way I remember, only grayer and a little softer around the middle.
“Coach C.”
We shake hands, and he pulls me into a hug.
When we break apart, he shakes his head and gives me a once-over. “Look at you. I barely would have recognized you if it weren’t for seeing you so often on ESPN.”
“It’s good to see you,” I say to him.
“You too. Thank you for being here tonight. It means a lot.” His stare slides to my right.
“Hi. I’m Whitney.” She lifts a hand in a wave. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” Coach Carson’s smile returns to me.
“Whitney is a high school hockey coach too.”
“No kidding?”
“I coach JV,” she says like she doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Always underestimating herself.
“That’s where I started. Tough job.” He crosses his arms over his chest. It’s like a flash in time, and I can see him out on the ice in his coordinated sweat suit, barking out orders during practice.
“I didn’t know that,” I say.
“It was before your time. I’m older than I look.” He winks, then speaks to Whitney. “I coached JV for three years before I moved up to varsity. It taught me a lot. Keeping kids excited during that transition phase is tough, as I’m sure you know.”
“It’s my first year, so I’m still learning.”
“She’s great,” I tell him.
Some of my old teammates have edged closer.
Coach Carson opens his stance to let them say hello to me.
It all happens in a blur. I shake hands with each of them.
They weren’t all terrible to me, but I’ve lumped them all together as being a part of that phase of my life I never wanted to revisit. I suppose that isn’t really fair.
Whitney doesn’t leave my side through any of it. One guy named Mick, who graduated a year ahead of me, lets his gaze linger a little too long when I introduce him to her. I decide continuing to hate him is okay.
When they usher us out of the waiting room, I break out in a cold sweat. Made worse when Whitney’s guided away from me. They seat her in the front row beside the bench as I follow the others toward the tunnel that’ll take us out onto the ice.
The current principal gives us the rundown of events as mats are laid out for us to walk onto the ice, then a podium and several chairs.
The teams come off from warm-ups and head to the benches.
I find my parents in the same seats they sat in when I was playing. Mom waves, and Dad gives me a head nod.
“It’s time.” Someone hands the principal a microphone and then the music is lowered and the announcer begins.
I barely hear most of the introductions and I blacked out during most of the overview of events, but when the principal welcomes me back, I know it’s my cue.
The applause is almost loud enough to drown out the blood pounding in my ears as I head to the podium. I have speech notes in my pocket, but I don’t trust myself to pull them out and unfold the paper with everyone watching. I should have had those out already. Fuck. I’m screwing it all up already.
“Thank you.” I speak a little too close to the microphone, and the words are loud and muffled. My face goes hot as I readjust.
Fuck. I’m at center ice in front of hundreds of people and all I want to do is make a run for it.
I find Whitney and instantly my anxiety lessens.
She smiles at me like everything is fine.
It isn’t patronizing or reassuring or anything but happy.
I don’t know if I can do this but her believing in me makes me want to at least try.
“Thanks for having me,” I try again, resting my hands on the top of the podium and turning my gaze to Coach Carson. “It’s surreal to be back here. The place feels smaller.”
Laughter rings out around the arena. And then cheers.
A familiar voice yells, “Yeah, Shep!”
“I’ve been playing hockey since I was a kid. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege to learn from a lot of different coaches. But none of them have left as big a mark on me as Coach Carson.”
More chanting is yelled down from the same familiar voice, and this time I place him.
I freeze, exactly like I feared I’d do up here in front of everyone, but it’s for a completely different reason than I imagined.
Halfway up the bleachers, wearing their game day suits, are D-Low, Trav, Galaxy, and Penn.
Trav is the one standing, hands raised over his heads as he cheers me on.
D-Low grins when he realizes I’ve spotted them. Galaxy gives me a thumbs-up, reminding me people are waiting for me to talk.
“Good coaches, like good teammates, are invaluable.”
This gets me more loud cheers and applause from my friends. I can’t believe they showed up for this. There aren’t a lot of free weekends between now and the end of the season and they used theirs to be here for me.
When I look at Whitney again, her smile is wider.
I keep my stare locked on her as I talk about what Coach Carson means to me and how I’ll carry his kindness and lessons with me forever.
Part of me wonders if the speech I wrote wasn’t directed more at her than Coach C, but when I’m finished and my old coach heads up to the podium, he has tears in his eyes.
“I’m so proud of you. I know that wasn’t easy, but I appreciate it.” He speaks quietly so only I can hear and pulls me into another quick hug.
After Coach Carson’s thank-you speech, the principal recognizes me and several of my old teammates as distinguished alumni, then there are pictures and lots of handshakes. At last, it’s over, but before I can walk off the ice, the current coach asks me to say hello to his players.
I agree without immediately understanding the request. Once I see the wide-eyed amazement on their faces, it clicks.
To them I’m not the loser who went to school here.
I’m Conrad Shepard, professional hockey player.
If they only knew what I was like when I was in their skates.
But all they see is the man I am now. Maybe it’s time I do the same.
Finally, I’m released. Whitney has joined the rest of the guys and my parents and they’re all waiting for me by the concession stand. The game is starting, and everyone else around the arena is locked into the action.
“Shep! Shep! Shep!” my friends chant as I walk toward them.
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss this.” Trav comes forward and hugs me, then D-Low, Galaxy, and Penn.
“You knew?” I ask Whitney.
“Not until we got here. I promise. Danny texted when we were in the parking lot, and I almost blew the surprise.” She wraps her arms around my middle in a side hug.
“We needed directions.” D-Low grins.
“Wait. How did you know I’d be here?” she asks him.
He chuckles. “I had a hunch.”