19. Ellie
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ELLIE
While the teams were in their locker rooms, Simone tugged me back into my seat. “It’ll be okay. When they come back out, he’ll be amazing. He always is.”
Kira tried to make conversation about the refs. Trina mentioned the terrible ice conditions. Everyone was being kind, pretending this was normal, that goalies gave up three goals in the first period all the time.
I stared at my hands. The hoodie suddenly felt too much, a giant neon sign announcing exactly how much I cared and how badly this was going.
“I should leave,” I said quietly.
“Nope.” Haley’s hand found mine.
“I’m making it worse. He can’t focus with me here.”
“I don’t believe that’s it.”
“You saw him. He keeps looking up here.”
Kira spoke up, her voice gentle. “Because he cares about you, not because you’re a distraction.”
“It’s the same thing tonight.”
“Fedor told me once,” Simone said, “that the first time I came to a game, he played terribly.”
I glanced her way.
“He was so worried about impressing me that he forgot how to skate or shoot the puck.”
Sighing, she shook her head.
“The point is,” she said, squeezing my hand, “this isn’t about you being here. It’s about him figuring out how to play while knowing someone he cares about is watching.”
Haley squeezed my other hand. “Give him time to adjust. He’ll catch up.”
I wanted to believe them, to think this was normal, that every player went through it. That it would get better. But I’d seen his posture during the timeout. He’d appeared lost. Drowning.
Not long ago, this male had seen me when I was vulnerable.
So maybe watching him struggle, watching him be human, meant it was my turn to stay.
The second period started with Drachmar in the goal.
Brashe sat at the far end of the bench with his head down, glove in his lap, staring at nothing. He didn’t look up at the family section. Didn’t look anywhere.
My insides went hollow.
Drachmar played well, stopping shots, controlling rebounds, and being everything Brashe couldn’t be tonight. The team rallied and scored twice. The crowd came alive again.
Everyone around me was celebrating. I tried to join in, clapping when I was supposed to and cheering when goals were scored. But my eyes kept finding Brashe on the bench. He looked like someone who thought he was about to disappear.
Drachmar shut it down for the rest of the game. No goals against. The Purple Punishers scored three more, Crim making two.
The final score: 5-3 Purple Punishers.
The arena went wild. The Punishers now had a 2-1 series lead. Everyone in the family section was jumping around, hugging, and celebrating.
Simone grabbed me, tugging me up and into her arms. “We won!”
I hugged her back, my body going through the motions while my brain stayed on Brashe. He was on the ice now, congratulating his teammates, but he moved mechanically through the handshakes and back-slaps, his smile not reaching his eyes.
The players skated off. Brashe was last, limping slightly even though his hip was fine. Protecting it anyway. He disappeared into the tunnel without looking up.
The family section started to empty, women heading down to wait for their players.
Haley linked our arms again. “We can wait in the family lounge.”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Ellie. Come on. Crim will be happy to see you.”
That was true. I’d barely thought about my brother, and he’d played amazingly tonight.
I let myself be led through the concourse and down a corridor to a comfortable lounge with sofas, a TV, and a coffee station. Other wives, girlfriends, and two boyfriends were already there, celebrating.
Someone turned on the TV. Post-game highlights played, including all three goals against Brashe. I couldn’t watch. I pulled the hoodie tighter around myself and wished I could disappear into it.
“Ellie.”
Crim stood in the doorway, still in his gear minus his skates and gloves. His gaze found me immediately, and he jerked his head toward the hallway.
I followed him to a quiet corner a bit down the hall.
Crim leaned against the wall, studying me with the same focus he used on the ice. “He thinks he let everyone down.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “He didn’t. You won.”
“That’s not the point. In his head, he failed.”
“That’s not—” I stopped. “I should go. Staying here will only make it worse.”
“El.”
“No, really. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have worn—” I gestured helplessly at the hoodie.
Crim caught my arm before I could leave. “Stop.”
I turned back, my eyes burning.
He was quiet for a long moment before he sighed.
“Brashe hasn’t been able to think about anyone but you for a long time, and I told him to leave you alone, that you’d been hurt enough.
But I was wrong.” His voice went quiet. “He’s been gone for you for nearly a year, El. He just doesn’t think he deserves you.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “He thinks his worth is in the net.”
“Yup. And tonight he thinks he proved he’s worthless.”
I’d seen it on his face when he sat on the bench.
Crim squeezed my shoulder. “The question is, are you brave enough to show him he’s wrong?”
I thought about that night, how he’d left at 4 AM because he’d wanted to do things right. How he’d been terrified of wanting too much, of being too much. When I’d asked him to stay, he’d looked at me like I’d offered him something wonderful.
That Brashe, the one who touched me like I was breakable and valuable at the same time, was the same one sitting on that bench thinking he’d failed everyone.
Being with him meant being with both versions. The confident goalie who could stop anything and the scared male who thought his only value was in saves.
I’d already chosen to see both when I’d asked him to stay.
And tonight, standing here in his hoodie while he thought he’d ruined everything? This was the same choice.
I looked up at my brother, the male who’d protected me at fourteen while I drowned in grief.
“What if I make it worse?” I forced the words out. “What if showing up was the problem? What if I’m—”
“Don’t do that thing where you make yourself smaller because someone else is struggling.”
But wasn’t that what I’d always done with every person who’d made me feel like wanting them was the mistake?
My phone buzzed. Patty checking in. Then Haley. I silenced it.
“He’s in the locker room right now,” Crim said quietly, “convinced you’re going to walk away. That tonight proved you should.”
“I don’t know what to say to him,” I said.
“I think you know what to say.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You always do.”
After he left, I stood in the hallway for a long time. Laughter and celebration spilled from the family lounge not far away. In thirty feet, I could be out the exit.
I could send him a text later, something casual that gave us both an out.
At first, my feet wouldn’t move toward either option. And then, they did. I walked to the locker room, finding the door open. Brashe wasn’t inside. Had he left already?
Lost and unsure what to do, I left through the side exit.
Most of the fans had gone. Only staff and family remained inside, celebrating or doing whatever they did after games.
My car sat three rows back. I walked slowly, tugging the hoodie tight against the cold.
“Ellie.”
I spun around.
Brashe stood a short distance away, wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and an unzipped team jacket. His hair was still damp from the shower. He looked wrecked. Exhausted. And beautiful enough to make my lungs ache.
“Hi,” I said, because my brain had given up on sophisticated vocabulary.
We stood under the security lights. Car engines rumbled in the distance and voices echoed from the arena. But here and for now, it was just us.
“You left,” he said.
“I looked for you but couldn’t find you. I decided to go home.”
His gaze fell to the ground. “I get it.”
Silence stretched between us.
I pulled at the hoodie hem. “You played—”
“Like shit. I know.”
“I was going to say nervous.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not.”
A car passed, headlights sweeping over us. I squinted against the glare. When it had left the lot, I found him closer. Near enough that I could read the exhaustion in his eyes and the tight set of his shoulders.
I shoved my hands into the hoodie pockets so I wouldn’t reach for him. We’d been so careful about this during treatment, only touching when we had a reason. Now there was no reason except wanting to, and that felt more dangerous than anything we’d done in the pool.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said.
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I do. You came to watch me play. I didn’t show up. I had one thing to prove, and I couldn’t do it.”
“You had a bad game. It happens.”
“Not to me.”
I almost laughed. “Everyone has bad games.”
“Not when someone I—” He snapped his tusks. “Not when you’re watching.”
The words settled between us, loaded with all the things we weren’t saying.
“Is that why you played badly?” I asked quietly. “Because I was there?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you in the stands. You’re wearing my hoodie, looking like—”
He didn’t finish.
“And then I couldn’t focus on the puck because I kept wondering if you were still watching. If you were disappointed after each bad play. If you regretted fixing me.” His gaze met mine. “Coming to the game. The pool.”
He thought I regretted being with him?
“I don’t regret what happened in the pool,” I said, then took a breath. “Or you spending the night. I regret nothing.”
His entire body went still.
My heartbeat throbbed in my throat. Part of me wanted to take the words back. To make a joke, deflect, protect myself the way I always had. But I’d spent ten months protecting myself from him, and where had it gotten me?
“That night, you made me feel like I mattered. Not as your therapist or Crim’s sister. Just as me.”
His hands flexed at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching for me.