Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ZACH

J on's wide open when I send the puck toward him during our three-on-three practice drill.

It's intense for early pre-season, but Coach Burrows wants to start feeling out the team as soon as possible, especially given the trades that arrived during the offseason.

Jensen is screaming instructions at me—nothing new there—but I feel one length behind the entire team. I'm conscious that these types of drills are especially effective at exposing weak links in the team, and right now, I feel like one of them.

"Alright, wrap it up for tonight, but Evans, I want to see you in my office, stat!"

"Got it, Coach."

"What do you think he wants?" Jon skates alongside me on the way off the ice.

I grab my Gatorade from the bench. "Likely to ream me out for my game. I was already on his shit list from last season."

"I wasn't gonna say it, but you aren't yourself out there. Wanna talk about it?"

Luna would be screaming "yes" at me right about now. Taking a deep breath, I stop in the player hallway and turn to my best friend. "I think I have a hangover from the hit in New York."

"As in?"

I run a hand roughly through my hair. "I could've died that day."

His face pales slightly, and I know he's recalling the hit as it played out, but I have no memory from the moment since I blacked out. "But you didn't."

"Another angle and it could easily have been more than my career."

Jon drops his head between his shoulders and nods. "I get it, man. What do you need from me?"

At this point, I don't know. "I guess, I just wanted to tell you I'm still trying to work through the effects. I didn't expect it to impact me like this. It's like when I'm going in on a player, I'm hesitating for that split second. I'm in my head about what might happen."

"That's understandable, but I would talk to Coach. It's not something you should carry alone."

"He already thinks I've lost my way."

"Nah, he's more worried about you than anything. He'll appreciate the honesty, and you can work through everything. You got this, bro." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Felicity's on a long-distance call with Darcy tonight, so that'll take three hours." He laughs. "Want to head back to your place and watch the Dallas footage? First game of the season, might be good to get it in early."

I scratch at my chin, "I'm meeting Luna here in half an hour."

"You are?"

"I'm teaching her how to skate, or at least just helping her not fall on her ass every five seconds. She's never been ice skating before."

With one hand on the locker room door, there's a knowing look in his eyes. "Just admit it to yourself already. You're gone for her." He low chuckles and shakes his head. "Let me guess, you even bought her skates."

LUNA

Butterflies swarm my stomach as my Uber pulls into the ice rink's parking lot. I'm nervous, but at least I can arrive in style. Zach booked me an exclusive ride.

I know this isn't a date, but it still doesn't stop me from feeling like a nervous wreck. I'm also about to spend ninety percent of my time on my ass with a guy I can't stop thinking about. It's kind of vulnerable and definitely embarrassing.

Walking through the maze of hallways, the rink is easy enough to find using the instructions Zach texted me. He also made sure I had the codes to get in. But as I push through the doors, all the lights are out, and there's no one here.

My body nearly leaves its skin when I feel a hand land on my shoulder. "Hey, it's just me." Zach walks over to the switchboard and flips on the lights, illuminating the vast expanse of ice. "Sorry, I got held up in Coach's office."

"That's okay. I was a few minutes late anyway." I continue to stare out at the twinkling white surface. It's been so long since I visited a rink. Probably the last time was when I watched Zach in high school, and I've never been when it was empty. "It's like stars, but on the ground. It's kind of beautiful."

"It's definitely a beautiful sight."

A hand threads through mine, and when I look up, I find Zach's gaze fixed on me, and the butterflies resume their dancing.

"Come on, Rocket. Your skates are ready. First lesson, lacing them up."

Zach pulls me toward one of the benches and kneels in front, pulling out a pair of gleaming white figure skates from underneath. He shrugs. "I figured you'd want these rather than the hockey ones."

I nod and chuckle. "You'd be right."

Carefully, he laces my skates moving from one foot to the next. The silence between us is therapeutic as I watch him work in a particular way.

"Before each game, Jon and I have this routine. I re-lace my skates, and he works on his stick, taping it up."

"He tapes his stick?"

"Yeah, the tape helps control the puck when it makes contact."

"Do you tape yours?"

"Yeah, pretty much every player does. It's just Jon is obsessive. It's more about routine than anything. Hockey players have superstitions."

"Did you speak to him? You know, about how you're feeling."

I watch the top of his head as he nods. "Yep, spoke to both him and Coach."

"And?"

"Jon got it. Said he would always have my back and that he'd help me work through it."

"And Coach?"

He laughs. "He was more concerned, thinking it hadn't affected me at all. He said players don't take hits like that and just bounce back. It'll take time to build my confidence. He's going to build a plan with our team psychologist to help with visualization and flashbacks."

"That sounds great. It's awesome you have so many supportive people behind you."

He comes to a stand and holds out his hand for me to take. "Yeah, it really is. Thank you for pushing me to speak up."

We walk toward the rink, and chills run down my spine—I'm not sure if it's the ice or his proximity. "I'm just another person in your corner, Zach."

He steps onto the ice and turns to face me, holding out both hands. "You'll never be ‘just' anything in my life, Luna."

Tentatively, I step onto the slippery freezing surface, and my shoulders lock as I feel my left skate slowly slipping underneath me.

"Keep your knees soft and your body relaxed; I got you. You aren't going to fall."

I think it might be too late for that.

Zach takes complete control, gliding us into the middle of the ice. I keep a tight grip on his hands as he continues to skate backwards. In his thick black hoodie and gray sweatpants, he looks glorious, navigating the ice like it's his second home. "You belong out here."

A brief smile pulls at his lips. "Have you ever been somewhere where you can clear your mind of everything?"

I think about my home and Cocoa Beach at night under a clear night sky. "Yes."

"Well, this is where I do my best thinking. There could be twenty thousand people in this arena, but I only hear one voice. My own." He continues to circle the rink with me in tow, my wobbly legs like Bambi. "Would it be weird to say it's calming, even during games?"

"No. I think wherever you're most comfortable is where you're grounded." My voice quakes, and I shiver. Wow, this place is colder than I expected; I should've worn more layers.

Pulling his black Scorpions beanie from his head, he keeps one arm looped around my waist as he tugs the hat onto my head, almost covering my eyes in the process. "Is that better?"

"Yeah, thank you." Just as the final word leaves my mouth, my right leg slips to the side. In slow motion, but with exactly zero grace, I tumble to the ice.

Zach wraps a strong arm around my waist and breaks my fall before I hit the surface. "Soft knees, remember." We come to a stop right in the middle of the rink. His arm is still looped around me, and my body is pressed against his. "You look cute in my hat."

All I can smell is him. He wraps around me like a hot summer night. It's hard to remain upright when I'm this overwhelmed. "Yeah? Black is my new color."

"Black? You've never worn anything black before."

I smile cheekily. "Well, Saturday night I will be."

Zach's hand tightens slightly around my waist. "That's the color of your dress?"

I nod slowly. "Kate picked it out."

Biting down on his lip, he holds my gaze for a moment too long. Too long for me to resist, and automatically I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip.

His eyes immediately fall to my mouth, a look of pure need in them. "If I kiss you, will you pull back?"

My heart thunders against my ribcage. "I should."

"Should is different from want."

"What we want and what we should do are two very different things, Zach."

He drops his forehead to mine as both his hands come to rest on my hips. "After you fly home on Sunday, when will I get to see you again?"

School starts the next day, and then his hockey season starts in October. "Not for a while."

He blows out a long breath. "Let me kiss you."

"For what reason? So we can head back to your place and sleep together again, only for me to leave two days later? I can't be friends with benefits."

He balks at my terminology. "You'd never be just that to me."

"By definition, that's exactly what we'd be. We need to move on from this summer."

His face contorts, still resting against mine. "I don't know if I can, Rocket."

"What choice do we have? You have your life here in Seattle, and I have mine across the country."

Our lips are centimeters apart, and I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheeks. "Will you date other people?"

I want the ice to melt from underneath my feet and swallow me whole. "Do you want the honest answer or the one I think you want to hear?"

He reaches up and brushes a calloused thumb over my cheek, looking me straight in the eye. "I always want your honesty, and you'll always have mine."

I swallow hard in a desperate attempt to push down the lump forming in my throat. "Right now, I can't see past what we shared. But one day, maybe. What about you?" I ask the question, but I really don't want to hear the answer.

Like a lead balloon, I watch the column of his throat work hard to digest my response. "I can't see past you and what we have. I know I made a lot of promises to myself three months ago. But if you were here in Seattle, and if you thought the hockey lifestyle was something you wanted, then I'd be standing here asking you to be my girlfriend."

My legs almost give out from underneath me, but this time, it has nothing to do with my balance on the ice. "Y-you want me to be your girlfriend?"

He moves his hand to the nape of my neck, and I tip my head up to look him in the eyes. "If the stars were aligned, then yes. I feel a lot of things for you. Things that scare the shit out of me, but I can't keep ignoring them. They're here to stay, and I'm tired of pushing them down."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say a thing. If things ever change for you, and you think you could live your life here with me, then know that I'll be waiting."

My hands shoot up, and I run my fingers through his soft brown hair. "I need time. I know I'd need to move my life, but I need time to think everything through. It's all happening so fast, and I?—"

"I'm not asking for an answer, Rocket. I'm just showing you my cards. And your name is written all over each one."

My heart thunders, beating so hard I can hear it in my ears. "Do you still want to kiss me?"

He brings his lips closer to mine once more. They were so close before, but they're millimeters now. "I want you to be my girlfriend, so for me, kissing you is the equivalent of breathing."

"Then kiss me."

I expect his lips to crash to mine, but they don't. Instead, his palms come under my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping my hands planted at the back of his head. Slowly, and with his lips moving languidly over mine, he skates us to the edge of the rink and sets me down on top of the boards in front of the player's bench.

Pushing my legs apart, he slides between them. "How about this? From now until the day I hope to call you mine, I'll only kiss and hold you. I won't go any further until you tell me you're ready."

"But won't that be torturous for you?"

He laughs and kisses the corner of my mouth in that same spot he always does. "Yes, but we go at your pace."

"Okay."

"Okay, Rocket." He kisses that spot once more.

"What's so special about there?" I point to where he kissed.

His eyes shine with warmth. "I know I shouldn't have one and don't tell the others, but it's my favorite freckle."