Chapter 18 Elijah
eighteen
Elijah
The locker room is loud when I return Monday morning. I stride past Axl and Jackson, who are in a heated conversation about Wing Night.
“Hey, look who survived the wedding weekend, Romeo,” Tyson claps my back as I walk past him.
I keep a straight face as I drop my hockey bag onto a bench and unzip it. “Why wouldn’t I survive?”
Axl hollers from across the room, already halfway into his pads. “You’ve still got the just-made-out-on-a-porch-swing’ glow.”
I roll my eyes even as the corner of my lips threatens to lift. “You all need hobbies.”
Before anyone else can chime in, the locker room door flies open. Coach Carlson stomps in with a clipboard in one hand, and his whistle already clenched between his teeth. “Enough gossip, girls. Get on the ice. Now.”
Chatter drops like a switch being flipped. I grab my helmet and skates and rush toward the ice. We are all quiet. Coach doesn’t need to remind us what this week means. Friday night is not only the last game of the season, but it’s the rematch.
We’ve been stressing about this game since we forfeited last time. It’s against former teammate and rival Noah’s team. This one isn’t just about points or standings. This one is personal to the team owner. We’re all on the line and not the kind that scores hat tricks.
We don’t just hit the ice—we body-check it into next week. Coach has us doing sprints, zone drills, and full-pressure scrimmage. There are no breaks, and we’re giving it one thousand percent. Even with all the hard work, the chirps don’t stop.
“Hey, lover boy,” Axl shouts mid-rush. “You should have saved some of that soft touch for the puck.”
I snort, zooming past him with a perfect pass to Tyson. “Still beat your time on the last drill.”
I shake off the teasing as I fly around the ice.
It becomes just a bunch of background noise.
When practice wraps up, Coach yells at us some more.
While he drones on, I peel off my gloves and wipe sweat from my brow with my jersey.
Today was no joke. I wait until Carlson leaves the locker room to check my phone, and there’s no message.
Not that I was expecting anything.
I hover my thumb over Koren’s name in my contacts.
I’m excited to talk to her, but it’s more than that.
We both know we’re officially back together.
It sounds so simple, but I’m ready for an old-school date.
The kind we had last summer. Neither one of us had much money, but we went on the kind of dates that spoiled each other with love.
A picnic basket filled with whatever we stole from our parents’ kitchens.
We’d hike a random trail until we were pretty sure we were lost and then plop down, spending hours just the two of us.
I put my phone back in my pocket, already imagining the sweet smile she’ll have for me when I pick her up with a packed picnic basket.
This time is so different.
I can feel it way down deep in my toes.
It’s forever.