Chapter 22 Charlie #2
I smiled, thinking that if I ever had kids, I’d want it to be with a partner who supported me and my career dreams. I didn’t want to be the sole caregiver, which is why I’d never seriously considered having children.
The kind of partner my mom would choose for me would likely expect me to stay at home and fit into a role that wasn’t my dream.
It’s not that being a stay-at-home parent is wrong or bad—it’s just not the life I envisioned for myself.
“I can imagine. I don’t miss home much, if I’m being honest, but when I moved out here, I met a group of friends and Austin pretty quickly.”
Stassi looked out on the ice, then toward me. “I know he’s been through a lot.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Don’t let his struggles take over though.”
I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”
“Being in a relationship with someone who openly wears their pain can sometimes feel overwhelming, as if you always need to prioritize their wants and needs. Just make sure you’re looking after your own wellbeing too.”
Make sure you’re taking care of yours too. It struck a nerve.
I’d become so accustomed to being the peacekeeper, putting others first, that I’d forgotten how to prioritize myself, which was why I’d bubbled over earlier.
If I wanted a future where I felt whole, I had to find balance—supporting Austin without losing myself and my mental health needs.
Because if I didn’t take care of my own needs, I’d end up empty, with nothing left to give.
“I often used to do that with Alex. I went through a lot in my previous marriage, so I felt like our relationship was him constantly checking in to see how I was, but over the years, I learned that I have to give him the same.”
“Thank you for sharing that.” I looked at the rink, then back at Stassi. “We aren’t really married though, so it won’t matter.”
“Right.” Stassi smiled as Auburn and her friend joined us.
“Charlie, this is my good friend, Emma. She’s practically like an aunt to Austin and helped raise him.”
Emma gave me a brief, almost dismissive handshake before immediately turning her attention to Stassi and sitting down beside her. The interaction felt cold, but I wasn’t quite sure I could pinpoint why.
Auburn was on the other side of Emma, and she leaned down and pointed to the rink. “Warm-ups are starting.”
I looked up, and Stassi asked, “Have you ever been to a hockey game?”
I shook my head. “No, never.”
She laughed. “They’re fun to watch.”
Auburn leaned over again. “Ledger and Austin are on opposite teams.”
The arena wasn’t as large as the ones I’d seen on TV in bars, but it had a charm of its own.
The lights dimmed, casting a warm glow over the ice as the players skated out.
A handful of pucks were scattered onto the rink, and the players were dressed in different colored mesh shirts, distinguishing their teams. My eyes followed Austin as he skated out, wearing a red mesh shirt that fit snugly over his broad shoulders.
Stassi nudged me playfully. “My husband’s the one with the messy brown hair, right next to Austin.”
I barely registered her words because I couldn’t take my eyes off Austin—the way he moved with an effortless grace. He launched the pucks with precision, making it look easy and natural.
Austin dropped down on the ice, his knees splayed apart as he leaned forward, moving in a way that made my jaw drop.
My eyes widened, and before I could stop myself, I muttered, “Is he . . . humping the ice?”
Stassi burst out laughing beside me. “He’s stretching.”
Oh, hell no. That’s not stretching. My mind betrayed me as an uninvited thought flashed through it—that’s exactly what I wish he was doing if I were under him, his hand wrapped around my throat . . .
Heat rose up my neck, and I snapped myself out of it, glancing around nervously.
Get a grip, I scolded myself, feeling mortified. His mom is sitting right next to me, for God’s sake.
“Austin,” Emma shouted.
It must’ve gotten his attention because he stood up and skated in our direction.
With a gloved hand, he gestured, pointing to us and telling her to come down. Emma looked around at Auburn, who looked at me.
Whatever. He must be close to his aunt.
She stood up, and Austin shook his head, then, very slowly and very clearly, he pointed at me. I cast a glance at Emma, who was still standing and now looking at me.
I was frozen in my seat. I hated being the center of attention like this. What if my shirt was too wrinkly? What if someone was taking another photo, which meant my mom was going to have another chance of seeing this . . .
“Come here,” Austin mouthed, and Stassi put a hand on my lower back.
“Go,” she said, and then, with a little push from her, I stood and walked down the ramp toward the edge of the rink.
I realized we were right behind the dugout . . . No, wait, fuck, that’s what you call it in baseball. We were behind where the players sat.
Austin wobbled in and took off his helmet. He was sweating, his curls loosely framing his face.
“One more kiss—for good luck.”
“You’re making a scene,” I hissed.
“Please.” He stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, letting it quiver playfully.
I rolled my eyes and lifted my hands to his jaw.
Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in, and our mouths met.
The noise of the arena faded away as the kiss deepened for a heartbeat, his lips warm against mine.
His hand came up to cradle my cheek. The faint taste of salt from his sweat mixed with his familiar scent, sending a shiver down my spine.
When I pulled away, I whispered, “I bet everyone will love that.”
He shook his head and put on his helmet. “I don’t care about everyone else.” He then turned, returned to the ice, and skated away.
I stood there, stunned, replaying his words as if they might make more sense the second time.
I took a steadying breath and walked up to where Stassi, Auburn, and Emma were sitting, doing my best to move gracefully despite the confusion swirling inside me.
It wasn’t the time to unravel it. I’d figure it out later.
Auburn glanced over at me, beaming as I settled beside Stassi, who gave my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. Relief washed over me as the buzzer sounded and the ice cleared.
“The game’s starting,” Stassi said, and I nodded again, clinging to the distraction it promised.
The game began with the buzzer announcing the puck drop.
Red versus blue, the teams clashed with an intensity that filled the air.
Austin played right winger, at least that’s what Stassi told me.
I had no idea what was going on, but his movements were quick and decisive.
Stassi’s husband held down the center, calling plays and keeping their team steady.
The red jerseys wove together like a well-practiced symphony.
Austin stood out, not because I knew him, but because he played with an undeniable fluidity that made it look easy.
He maneuvered through defenders with the kind of confidence that spoke to years of experience.
I hardly believed he hadn’t played professionally in years.
Each time he skated past, he drew my gaze whether I wanted it to or not.
It was like watching a part of him I’d never known, one so comfortable and at home that it was almost startling.
The game went on, players jostling and fighting for control.
Bodies collided against the boards, the sound echoing as shouts from the benches cut through the air.
Tension boiled over when Austin and Ledger were on top of each other.
Their skates tangled for a moment before words were exchanged.
Before I could process it, they were shoving each other, sticks clattering as hands flew to chest protectors.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, and beside me, Auburn shot to her feet, shock widening her eyes and parting her lips. Emma grabbed her arm, and they said something that I couldn’t quite make out. The referees were there in seconds, separating them, their whistles shrill and urgent.
Just as suddenly, the game resumed. Austin adjusted his helmet, shaking off the altercation, and Ledger was thrown in the penalty box.
Austin threw himself into the game with a renewed focus that seemed almost defiant.
His strides were longer, faster, as if he were chasing down something more than just the puck.
Each pass he made was sharp, precise, and the red team fed off his energy, moving as one unit.
Every play was seamless, every shot calculated.
Time seemed to blur until the final buzzer cut through the noise.
The scoreboard lit up, and the red team had claimed victory by two points.
The stands erupted in cheers, the sound vibrating throughout the arena and into my chest. I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath, completely caught up in the game—and in him.
As the players skated to a stop, sweaty and exhilarated, Ledger pulled off his helmet, his dark hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He stepped forward, raising his hand to the crowd. “Thank you to everyone who came out to support the charity.”
The applause that followed was deafening, filling the space with a wave of celebration that momentarily washed away the earlier tension.
Austin stood among his teammates, his chest rising and falling as he looked out over the cheering crowd. For a split second, his eyes found mine, and the expression there—triumphant, raw, and unapologetically alive—left me stunned, my heart thudding in a rhythm I couldn’t control.
I’d never needed him more than I did in that moment.