19. Ellie #2
“And tonight scared me,” I said. “I watched you struggle, believing I’d caused it.
But Crim said something that made me think.
” I wrapped my arms around myself, the hoodie feeling like armor and exposure at the same time.
“He said this isn’t about me being a distraction.
It’s about you figuring out how to play while knowing someone you care about is watching. ”
“He’s right. I’ve played hockey my whole life. I know how to be brutal in the net. I don’t know how to be…this.” He gestured between us. “Not with you there, seeing all my flaws.”
I stepped closer. “You think one bad game makes me see you differently? I’ve already seen you at your most vulnerable, and I’m still here.”
His throat worked, his eyes searching mine in the low light. “You are.”
“I’m here when you’re brilliant and when you’re scared. Even when you’re the brutal goalie everyone talks about.”
His voice cracked. “I didn’t know you could want both.”
“I’m still figuring it out too.” The honesty felt like stepping off a cliff. “I’m scared, Brashe. Of being wrong about you again or making you into someone you’re not because I want this so badly.”
His jaw worked. “And if you’re not wrong?”
“I’m scared of that too.” My laugh bubbled up, slightly hysterical. “I’m scared of everything right now except the part where I keep choosing to stand here instead of getting in my car.”
He stared at me like he was trying to believe it. “I don’t know how to want something that isn’t hockey. Be something that isn’t a weapon in the net.”
I wanted to grab him by his team jacket and shake him until he understood he was more than what he could do on the ice.
“You don’t have to know how,” I said. “You just have to try.”
The air between us buzzed.
“Can I text you later?” he asked.
“You text me every night at 9:41.”
“I mean really text you. Not just the ice photos.”
“I’d like that.”
He nodded. Neither of us moved.
“You should go home,” he said. “It’s late.”
“You should too.”
“I will after I watch you get in your car safely.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“Crim called it territorial.”
“It’s sweet and territorial. You can be both.”
His mouth quirked up on one side. “Good to know.”
“Night, Brashe.”
“Night, Ellie.”
I walked to my car, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. After getting in, I started the engine and looked in the rearview mirror.
He still stood where I’d left him, watching.
I waved, and he waved back.
I drove away, his hoodie still warm around me.
Marzipan waited in my entryway, meowing loudly the second I opened the door.
I fed her and changed into pajamas but tugged the hoodie back on. The fabric smelled like him and me now, a combination that felt significant. I collapsed on the couch. Marzipan jumped up and settled in my lap, purring like an engine.
I stared at my phone. No text yet.
Marzipan headbutted my hand, telling me to pat her and stop staring at my phone.
More time passed. Still nothing.
Maybe he’d changed his mind. He might’ve realized I was more trouble than—
My phone buzzed.
I lied earlier, he said.
My heart stopped but started again, running faster. About what?
I do know how to want something that isn’t hockey. I’ve been doing it for a very long time.
I couldn’t breathe. Marzipan looked up, annoyed at the disruption to her petting schedule.
My hands shook as I typed. What have you been wanting?
You. Since you walked up and asked about my god complex.
I set the phone down but picked it back up immediately. Marzipan meowed, sending me a scowl. Her tail flicked against my leg.
He’d wanted me for months while I convinced myself he thought I wasn’t good enough for him. While I shrunk inside myself.
You have a terrible way of showing it, I texted.
I’m sorry for taking so long to figure out what you knew after five minutes.
And what exactly was that?
That this was always going to happen. Us.
The words made me dizzy.
I didn’t know that, I said, feeling as if I should clarify. I hoped. There’s a difference.
Are you still hoping?
My eyes were burning. This felt too big. Too fast.
Yes, I texted.
Even after tonight?
Especially after tonight.
Why?
I had to think about how to reply to this. It was important I get it right. Because you were scared and played badly and you’re still here. Still trying. That matters more than any save.
I’m going to kiss you again. Properly this time. Not in a pool where you’re my physical therapist and I’m your patient. Just you and me.
My stomach dropped straight through the floor. When?
After game four, when I’ve won.
That’s very confident.
I’m a goalie. We’re born that way.
My laugh burst out, startling Marzipan. And humble.
That too.
I was grinning at my phone in my empty condo, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled like this. Marzipan’s purr got louder.
I should go to bed, I said.
Me too. Practice tomorrow. Coach wants to make sure I don’t play like garbage again.
I shook my head. You won’t.
How do you know?
Because I’m very good at my job. And I said you’re ready.
For the game or for us?
I stared at the words on my screen.
Both, I thought right away. Ready for the game and ready for us. But was I? I’d spent ten months thinking Brashe Kedish was a player with a reputation, an orc who’d shut me down at a picnic. I’d been wrong about almost all of it. What if I was wrong about this too?
Wrong or right, I was already in. I had been since he’d shown up fourteen minutes early with that instruction sheet soft from folding.
Yeah. I was ready.
Both, I said.
Awesome. Good night, Dr. Lundrig.
Good night, Kedish.
I started to set the phone down.
It buzzed again. One more thing. That hoodie is yours now. I like knowing you’re wearing it. Let me have this.
Okay, I texted.
Yeah?
Yeah. It’s mine now.
Good. That’s good.
I set the phone on the coffee table and burrowed deeper into the hoodie. Marzipan shifted and resettled, purring louder.
We had three days until game four. Three days until he could kiss me properly.
I could wait three more days.
I hoped.
My phone lit up with one last text. I grabbed it.
Sweet dreams, Ellie.
I hugged the phone to my chest before I typed back. You too, Brashe.
I sat on the couch wearing his hoodie, petting my cat, and smiling at nothing.
Everything was different now.
Everything was possible.