31. Wren
WREN
Daisy is out of school for the next two days to my detriment but to her delight. By Friday, she’s pouting and fighting me the entire time it takes to get everyone dressed, out the door, and dropped off.
As fate would have it, my uterus decides it would be a great time to hurt. A lot.
But school does not care about my uterus.
Neither does my work schedule. Hockey especially does not care because there is a home game tonight, which means I have exactly forty minutes to get from campus to the rink, change, and prove to Donnelly that I am employable despite my entire inner monologue being one long, dramatic sigh.
By the time I reach the equipment room that afternoon, he’s already scowling. “Calloway.”
“I’m on time.”
“You’re breathing like you fought a hill.”
I point behind me in the direction I just came from after Harlow dropped me off. “I did. It’s called the parking lot.”
He gives me a look over his clipboard. “You good?”
I hang my bag in the staff corner. “I’m fine.”
He points me toward the sock bins, and I get moving because that’s what I do best. Moving is easier than thinking.
Sorting, checking, folding, restocking. I can make sense of objects.
Objects stay where I put them, unless Weston is involved, in which case objects become props in his personal theater of nonsense.
The team starts trickling in around five.
Weston arrives first, wearing sunglasses again, trying to be cool and all that.
“Calloway,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “You ever look at a man and think, Wow, he’s due for a goal tonight?”
“No.”
He removes the sunglasses slowly. “That was your cue.”
I pause, pretending to reconsider my answer. “Oh. Then still no.”
Asher walks behind him, goalie bag over his shoulder. “She respects honesty.”
Weston points at him. “You are being unsupportive before a major offensive breakthrough.” He looks back at me. “Andy get your car fixed?”
“Yes, actually,” I say, setting the final towels in their place before turning back to my empty cart, ready to hide it away until it’s time to fill it with smelly ones later. “I just need to find a time for my mom to drop me by and get the final bill for what I owe in the next few days.”
Grayson walks in then, quieter, nodding at me before heading toward his stall. He looks more serious than usual tonight, shoulders a little tighter. I figure he’s just more focused today, but then I hear Weston speak, voice quieter. “Dane’s here tonight, right?”
Grayson glances toward the locker room door. “Yeah.”
Dane.
As in Dane Whitaker.
As in Seattle Stormbreakers development guy. The one who calls Kai and talks about training reports and summer timelines and all the things that remind me that Kai’s life already has a place waiting for him somewhere else.
The thought doesn’t knock me sideways the way it might have a month ago.
Kai walks in a minute later.
I know before I see him because my body has become embarrassing and predictable, but when I look up, he is already looking at me. Suit. Tie. Game face mostly in place. He passes by close enough that his sleeve brushes mine. Not an accident. Not obvious either.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hi,” I say, a small smile working its way out of me.
His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to touch me and remembers exactly where we are. The thin line we have to walk so my work doesn’t become gossip with a name attached to it.
So Kai doesn’t touch me.
He only nods once, then keeps walking.
I hate how much that restraint makes me want him.
Across the room, Weston watches him go, then turns to me. “That was hot.”
I throw a towel at his chest.
He catches it, delighted. “I knew it.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know sexual tension when I see it, babygirl.”
Asher opens his stall. “You know how to be loud.”
“I definitely know how to make the ladies loud,” Weston says with a wink.
I snicker before Donnelly appears behind me. “Cooper, stop flirting with my staff and get dressed.”
Weston’s face goes immediately offended. “I was seeking pregame encouragement.”
“Seek it elsewhere.”
“Yes, sir.”
The game starts ugly.
Not bad. Ugly.
The other team is fast and irritating, the kind of irritating that looks coached.
They finish every check, crowd Asher’s crease, chirp after whistles and skate away smiling when PCU reacts.
By the end of the first period, the score is still 0–0, but the whole rink feels like it’s one bad hit away from boiling over.
Kai is controlled. Too controlled.
That is the thing I notice now. Not just when he’s calm, but when the calm is something he’s forcing. I can see it in the set of his shoulders when he comes off after a shift. The way he drinks water and looks briefly toward the stands without turning his head enough for anyone else to follow.
Dane is up there somewhere.
Seattle is watching.
I wonder if Kai feels it as a door opening or a clock ticking.
Maybe both.
In the second period, Coleson takes a penalty for cross-checking, and Coach’s face turns a color I would describe as medically concerning. Donnelly mutters, “Idiot,” under his breath, and I pretend not to hear it, even though he absolutely wanted me to.
PCU kills the penalty, but barely. Asher makes two saves that should count as miracles, and Grayson clears the puck with seven seconds left. When Coleson steps back on the ice, Kai says something to him that I can’t hear from the bench.
Coleson’s jaw tightens.
Kai skates away before it can become anything else.
As the third starts, PCU comes out faster.
Harder. Grayson drives the net on the first shift and draws a penalty.
Weston wins a battle on the boards that makes him pound the glass like a caveman.
Kai sets up on the half wall, head up, patient in a way that makes my pulse trip because I can see the play forming before it happens.
Pass to Grayson.
Back to Kai.
Across to Weston.
Weston shoots.
Rebound, and Kai’s there.
The puck is in the net before I can breathe.
The rink erupts.
Weston throws both arms up like he planned all of it. Grayson grabs Kai around the shoulders. Kai looks briefly toward the stands before his eyes meet mine for just a second.
The last ten minutes are chaos. Beautiful, horrible chaos. Asher stands on his head. Weston takes a hit, pops up grinning, and immediately starts running his mouth. Grayson blocks a shot that probably makes Harlow, somewhere in the stands, age five years.
With under a minute left, Kai wins an offensive-zone faceoff straight back to Grayson, who sends it low. Weston gets a stick on it, not a clean shot, more of an ugly redirection that slips under the goalie’s pad.
The horn goes off.
2–0, PCU.
Weston slides on one knee and points toward the ceiling like he is accepting an award from God.
Asher skates out of his crease just far enough to yell something that makes Weston laugh.
The clock runs out thirty-eight seconds later.
PCU wins, and the building shakes with it.
Afterward, the locker room is alive in that way only a comeback win can make it.
Loud. Sweaty. Full of guys shouting over each other and replaying moments none of them saw accurately.
Weston keeps insisting the game-winner was “a puck of destiny.” Asher says destiny should work on his shot placement.
Grayson is smiling, but his eyes keep moving toward the hallway, probably wanting to get to Harlow.
Kai is pulled aside before he can get anywhere near me.
Dane Whitaker stands near Coach, wearing a dark coat and the polished expression of a man who says words like development plan without irony.
Kai shakes his hand. Coach says something.
Dane nods. They talk for a few minutes while I pretend to be very invested in moving towels from one bin to another.
I do not stare.
I glance. Several times. There is a difference.
Kai stands there, talking, presumably, about his future. I can’t help the swell of pride I feel getting to watch the boy I love getting closer and closer to the dreams he’s been chasing.
Love.
My hands freeze, even though it’s not that shocking.
Did I ever stop loving Kai Mercer?
No, I don’t think I did. I might’ve tried to hide it, to lock it away so it didn’t feel like my heart was breaking into smaller pieces with each month that passed when we didn’t talk, but I never stopped loving him.
After Dane leaves, Kai finally looks for me.
I am near the laundry carts, pretending my hands are busy. He stops a few feet away, close enough to speak low but not close enough to cause trouble.
“You watched,” he says.
“The game? Yes, Kai. That’s usually part of hockey.”
His mouth curves, but his eyes are searching. “The conversation.”
“I’m assuming that went well?” I say, still avoiding his gaze.
Before he can answer, Donnelly calls me over and hands me a new bin of jerseys that need to be hung up while I wait for more loads of laundry to be ready to wash.
By the time I finish what feels like a never-ending shift, the sun is long gone, and I head toward the parking lot, contemplating a power nap while Harlow drives me home.
To my surprise, Kai is the one I find waiting in the parking lot for me instead of my best friend, and he’s standing next to my car, not his.
“I thought you headed out.”
He pushes off the car, taking a few steps toward me.
“I did. But I might’ve snapped a pic of your schedule last week, so I knew when you’d be done, and then Harlow mentioned she was going to come give you a ride home.
Only made sense for me to do that, since I was already planning on coming back to see you.
Then Weston made a comment about your car, and we decided to just bring it to you. ”
I look up at him under the parking lot lights, and my eyes start burning. His face turns to concern, but I shake my head. “That was very thoughtful, is all. I’m fine. Did you get the bill for how much I owe?”
“I did.” A guilty grin plays on his lips, and I narrow my eyes at him.
He caves quickly. “It’s taken care of. I don’t want you to worry about it, and no, you can’t pay me back.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Kai.”
He smiles then. “I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. Let me take care of you once in a while, yeah?”
Kai pulls me toward him, and I go willingly, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It calms me instantly, my own personal recharging station.
We stand there in silence for a few moments before he speaks. “So, I was thinking.”
“Mhmm,” I murmur, not wanting to move my head just yet.
“The team banquet is coming up soon, and I was hoping you’d go,” he says, gently stroking his hands up and down my back. “With me. As my date or girlfriend, whichever title you want to have for that. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”
I don’t answer for a moment, the thoughts mulling around in my mind.
Some players will talk, yes, but do I care at this point?
Not really. With the regular season ending next week and the tournaments starting soon, we only have a few weeks left, and I want to spend as much time as possible with Kai as I can before he leaves.
“Girlfriend, huh?” I tease, finally looking up at him. “I’m pretty sure you were more romantic when you asked me out in sixth grade.”
“If I recall correctly, Tommy Mullins told me that he liked you, so I walked to where you were sitting at lunch and asked if you’d be my girlfriend.”
“You’re leaving out an important detail.” My smile grows. “You were mid-sandwich and had peanut butter and jelly all over your mouth.”
“Okay, fair enough.” He laughs before his expression turns more serious, his wide smile softening.
“You’ve owned every piece of me from the first day we met to now.
You’re the only person I want to do everything with.
The three years I had to do without you were some of the blankest, most unfulfilling moments I’ve had.
I didn’t know, or maybe I did and pretended not to, that you were the thing that I was missing.
” He moves his hands to cup my face. “I love you, Wrenley Mae. Always have, pretty sure I always will.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before he’s kissing me, and I let myself melt into him. Everything inside of me—the fears, the worries about what comes next—quiets. My body heats—not with lust, but with something soft, something that has me smiling into his kiss.
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against his. “I love you.”
He grins before wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting my feet off the ground, causing me to squeal.
I think I’m going to be just fine.