Chapter 28
Kennedy's perfume lingers on my practice jersey even though she's maintaining her "appropriate distance" rule.
The scent hits me as I suit up for morning skate – vanilla and flowers that reminds me of how she pressed against me in the equipment room last night, all proper words and improper touches.
"Eyes glazing over again, Thompson?" Harvey chirps as he passes my stall. "Thinking about how glad you are you cockblocked me that night?"
I laugh. Everything about Harvey is light. I have to admit that he’s a good guy, and I know why she would pick him out of the crowd. Though, I’m far better looking.
"Sorry about that," I say.
Harvey waves it off. "I’m used to the team swooping in and stealing my girls. I guess I’m the good luck charm."
I squeeze his shoulder. "She’s out there, man."
My phone lights up from my locker.
Kennedy: Have a good practice, Mr. Thompson. Do make my family proud.
I grin at her formal tone, typing back.
Knox: Yes, Miss Walters. Anything for the campaign.
Kennedy: Behave.
Knox: Never.
The locker room buzzes with nervous energy. Everyone's seen the news about Mike Hanson – top scorer from Michigan, just dropped by the Penguins. Someone's getting cut to make room, and the tension is palpable.
"Thompson!" Coach Barrett's voice cuts through my Kennedy-induced haze. "Need a word."
My stomach drops as I follow him to his office. The walk feels endless, every step weighted with possibility and fear. Not the old fear – not my father's legacy of violence and failure. But the normal kind. The kind that means I care about my future.
"Saw the stats from your morning workouts." Coach shuffles papers on his desk. "And the footage from your last few practices."
"Coach—"
"Shut up and listen." But there's no heat in his voice. "Whatever happened at that combine – whatever made you grab that microphone– since that moment, you changed."
I think about Kennedy. About choosing love over fear. About finally being free of my father's shadow and my mom’s abandonment. About learning that life is hard either way, so choose your hard.
"You're playing smarter." Coach continues. "Cleaner. Still protecting your teammates but doing it with control instead of rage. Like you finally found your balance."
"Thank you, coach."
"Don't thank me yet." He looks up finally. "Hanson's signing tomorrow. Someone's getting dropped."
My heart pounds. Everything I've worked for hangs in this moment. Years of fighting my way out of the South, of proving I'm more than my father's son, of becoming someone worthy of Kennedy's.
"But it won't be you." Coach smiles slightly. "Keep playing like this – like you've got something worth fighting for – and you'll do just fine."
Relief floods my system as I head back to the ice. My phone buzzes again.
Kennedy: The senator's daughter hopes you're conducting yourself with appropriate dignity.
I smile, typing.
Knox: The senator's daughter should see what I'm planning for later.
Kennedy: Mr. Thompson! Such impropriety.
Knox: Just wait, Princess.
Another text interrupts our flirting – this one from Grey:
Grey: Saw the news about your dad. You good?
Right. My father's latest bar fight landed him in jail last night. Thirty days for assault. The old me would have bailed him out, cleaned up his mess again. Would have carried that weight like a legacy I couldn't escape.
Instead, I type.
Knox: Let him face consequences for once. I'm good.
And I am. Because for the first time in my life, I'm free of his shadow. Free to be the man Kennedy believes in. Free from my old life and focusing on what’s ahead.
Practice feels different now that I'm not carrying all that weight. Every shot, every check, every play comes naturally. I'm still the enforcer – still protect my team – but with control now. With purpose instead of rage.
"Looking good, Thompson!" Coach calls as I run drills. "That's what we want to see!"
My phone lights up after with more texts from Kennedy.
Kennedy: The campaign team praised my excellent focus on studies.
Knox: If they only knew what we did in the library last night
Kennedy: It would be such scandalous implications.
Kennedy: Senator’s daughter back with the bad boy hockey star
I laugh, typing.
Knox: Would do it a thousand times again, Princess.
She's still playing her perfect daughter role in public – all proper manners and campaign-appropriate behavior. But in private? In private she's fire and need and everything I never knew I needed.
The guys notice the change in me during afternoon workouts.
"Different energy," Grey comments as we spot each other. "Like you finally figured your shit out."
"I have."
Another text from Kennedy.
Kennedy: Tell me about this date tonight
Knox: The senator's daughter should prepare herself
Knox: You can keep the good girl act
Knox: You drive me wild
The surprise has been days in planning. The rooftop access wasn't easy to arrange, but Grey knows a guy who knows a guy. The lights took hours to string just right, creating a canopy of stars below the real ones.
"Need help setting up?" Grey offers after practice.
"Got it." I bump Grey’s shoulder in thanks. "Just... maybe run interference if Ace asks where I am?"
"Got you covered." He grins. "Though he probably knows. He's not stupid."
No, Ace isn't stupid. He sees how I look at his sister. How I'm trying to be worthy of her. How I'm finally becoming the man she deserves. But we’ve been keeping things private, so I don’t know how much Ace truly knows.
The rooftop transforms as sunset approaches. Lights twinkle against the skyline, blankets spread for stargazing, everything ready for asking the question that's been burning in my throat:
Be mine. For real this time. No more pretending or hiding or playing roles.
Just us.
Forever.
My phone lights up one more time.
Kennedy: The senator's daughter finds herself quite anticipatory regarding tonight's academic pursuits.
I grin, typing.
Knox: The senator's daughter should prepare herself for much more than academics.
Because tonight isn't about studying or maintaining distance or playing roles.
Tonight is about forever.
And I'm finally ready to truly ask for it.
This time it won’t include my dick.