19. Brooks

Chapter nineteen

Brooks

I skated backward, watching all the kids gathered in the new rink at the Whistleport Ice Arena. The familiar scrape of skates on ice filled the air. It was the sweetest music to my ears.

The energy was off the charts. I saw a kaleidoscope of jerseys and sweaters in all sizes and colors. It wasn't just any practice session. It was our weekly open session, where hockey enthusiasts of all ages and skill levels could join in.

I spotted Ziggy near center ice. A group of wide-eyed twelve-year-olds gathered around him while he demonstrated a stick-handling drill. I stopped for a moment to watch his fluid and confident movements. He was now a young man, a sharp change from the uncertain teen I first met several months ago.

Ziggy looked from one face to the next. "Remember, it's all about soft hands and quick wrists. You want to feel the puck, not fight it."

He had all the talent to be the next hockey hero produced by Whistleport. He took his role as a junior coach seriously, and his natural leadership talents blossomed as he worked with the younger kids.

"You're looking sharp over there, Coach Knickerbocker," I called out as I glided past. He looked up, and a massive grin spread across his face.

"Thanks, Coach Bennett." He only let me interrupt him for a few seconds before he returned his attention to his group. "Okay, guys, let's pair up, and you can show me what you can do. Think back over everything we talked about."

I clapped Ziggy on the shoulder while the players gathered into their pairs. "Great work. You've got a knack for explaining complex plays and drills. That's a gift."

"I don't know about that. I've had a great teacher in Coach Blake, too." He nodded toward the far end of the week. "Could you check on Maddie? She's been struggling with some of her shots, but she won't talk to me. Maybe you can help out."

I nodded, impressed by Ziggy's attentiveness. Maddie was a fierce fourteen-year-old who had dreams of playing college hockey. She told Rory she wanted to win an Olympic gold medal in hockey someday. I skated up close and watched her repeatedly slap pucks at the net.

"Mind if I join you, Maddie?"

She turned toward me and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her glove. "Oh, hey, Coach. Sure, I guess that'd be alright."

I mirrored her stance. "Why don't we take a few shots together? I'll check out your form and see if I can give a few pointers."

We lined up our shots, and I observed as Maddie wound up and connected with the puck. The shot went wide, ricocheting off the post.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey, it wasn't that bad. You've got the power, but you need to straighten it out a bit. Watch me for a minute."

I demonstrated a shot, trying to emphasize my weight shift as I followed through. "See how the swing isn't only in my arms? It involves the whole body. You want to get your core and your legs into it, too—like a well-oiled machine with all the gears working together."

Maddie nodded. Her forehead creased as she lined up the next shot. This time, she delivered a smoother motion. The puck sailed into the top corner of the net, right where she wanted it.

"Hey, Coach, I did it!"

"You did! The goalie's got nothing on you. Keep practicing your motion. You might feel like you can't hit the puck as hard initially, but that's okay. That power will come with time."

As Maddie continued practicing, I skated back toward the rink's center. A group of adult learners were there practicing crossovers.

"Looking good, everybody," I called out. "Remember, the key is to push with your outside edge. Don't worry about speed until you have the form down. Then you'll naturally speed up with practice."

I demonstrated a few crossovers and exaggerated pushing with my outside skate. "You should feel that burn! It's great for firming up those… ahem… flabby spots. When it burns there, you know you're on the right track."

The adults laughed. "Thanks, Coach," one of the women called out.

Next, I skated up to the youngest group on the ice. It was a handful of six and seven-year-olds. Some were using stabilizers. Ziggy was with them, crouching down to look them in the eye.

"That's it, Emma." He was helping a little girl keep her balance. "Pretend you're a superhero. Superheroes always stay balanced, right?"

Emma nodded with a firm, serious expression on her face. Her forehead wrinkled as she concentrated hard when she took a shaky step forward.

"How's it going, Coach Ziggy?"

He stood. "We're making progress. Emma is about to skate on her own for the first time. Right?"

Emma nodded. I crouched beside her. "I want to help you celebrate your first time. How about you show us your superhero skating?"

She took a deep breath and then moved forward. I watched as she wobbled and started reaching out, but she found her balance. With small, hesitant steps, Emma moved forward under her own power."

"You're doing it!" Ziggy cheered. He skated backward in front of her. "Look at you go!"

A huge grin appeared on Emma's face. I could never get enough of seeing the expression of pure joy when novice skaters first hit their groove on the ice.

As Emma and Ziggy completed a lap around the practice era, I complimented Ziggy. "You've got a real gift. Your connection with the kids is impressive."

He lowered his head. "I just remember what it was like for me. I got thrown in with older kids, and I wanted so badly to be a good skater. I'm trying to make it easier for these kids."

When practice ended, I packed up my gear. I was only a few hours from setting out north for a weekend cabin getaway with Rory. It would be our first time to spend extended time together alone, without our parents or fellow Whistleport residents steps away.

When I arrived home, Rory was waiting for me on his porch. He was the picture of casual elegance in faded jeans and a soft flannel shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. "Ready for an adventure, Coach Hardass?" he smirked.

I pulled him in for a quick kiss, savoring the warmth of his lips. "An adventure with you? I'm up for that anytime."

We chatted and laughed nonstop on our drive to our secluded cabin. As we wound through dense forests, pine trees lined the sides of the road.

I sneaked frequent glances at Rory. The strong outline of his jaw and the curve of his lips mesmerized me. How did I ever leave that behind?

"What are you thinking about?" Rory asked when he caught me staring.

I chuckled softly. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here, with you. This second chance is a dream come true."

Rory's hand found mine. "We're both lucky. We get to rewrite our story."

The cabin was a rustic haven nestled in a clearing, all weathered wood and charm. The scent of pine and woodsmoke enveloped us as we stepped onto the porch. Inside, a plush couch faced a stone fireplace, and large windows offered views of the surrounding forest.

"Race you to the waterfall?" Rory challenged, already heading for the nearby trailhead.

The hike was invigorating. The forest canopy came alive with the chatter of birds and the whisper of leaves. When the trail turned out to be longer than expected, we slowed and caught our breath.

As we walked, we talked about everything and nothing—my new coaching role, Rory's latest literary inspirations, and Dottie's most recent gossip.

We emerged from the treeline to a breathtaking vista—a cascading waterfall shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Every droplet looked like liquid gold.

"Holy shit," I breathed, momentarily forgetting my manners.

Beside me, Rory chuckled. "Eloquent as always, Brooks."

I turned my head to respond, but the words died in my throat. Rory stood there, backlit by the falls. His blue eyes met mine, and I couldn't stop staring.

"What?" Rory asked. "The way you're looking at me, I must have trail mix stuck in my teeth or something."

I shook my head, stepping closer. "No, I just..." I paused and searched for the right words. "Sometimes I can't believe this is real. Us, here, together. I thought it was over when I joined the NHL."

Rory reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Better believe it, hockey star. You're stuck with me now."

I tugged him closer, one hand finding the small of his back. "Is that a promise?"

"It's a promise, a guarantee," Rory murmured, his face only inches from mine.

Our lips met. Intimate kisses were no longer a novelty, but I couldn't get enough of them.

Rory tasted of the tart and sweet cherries he'd been snacking on during our hike. His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my stubble in a gesture so achingly tender, it aroused me.

We'd shared countless kisses since getting back together, from quick pecks goodbye to heated makeout sessions. This one was different. Maybe it was the majestic setting or the fact that we were miles away from anyone else. Whatever it was, I poured all of my emotion into that kiss—my love, gratitude, and commitment.

When we parted, I kept Rory close. Our muscular chests brushed, and I considered taking him right there in the woods.

"I love you," I said, the words carrying through the air despite the roar of the falls. "God, Rory, I love you so much."

His fingers tightened on the back of my neck. "I love you too, Brooks. Always have, always will."

We stood there for a long moment, trading soft kisses and long looks. The mist from the waterfall cooled our skin, moderating the heat growing between us. I marveled at how right it all felt and how perfectly we fit together. It was as if all the years apart were necessary to lead us back to a more mature, wiser relationship.

Rory tapped my chin with a fingertip. "You know, when you suggested a hike to see something beautiful, I thought you were talking about the waterfall. You just wanted to get me alone in the woods, right?"

I laughed, and the sound echoed off the rocks. "Damn, foiled again. You figured out my master plan. Whatever shall I do now?"

"Well, you could kiss me again. That's probably a solid Plan B."

"Plan B, huh?" I grinned, already leaning in. "I'd say it's a pretty good Plan A, B, C, or D."

Our lips had barely touched when a voice shattered our private world.

"Oh my God, you're Brooks Bennett!"

We sprang apart, startled by the intrusion. A hiker stood a few feet away, eyes wide. After a flash of brief irritation, I smiled. Being recognized in the most unusual places was the price of fame.

"I, uh, yes, you're right. That's me."

The fan was excited. He rattled off statistics from my years in the NHL. Rory, ever gracious, engaged him in conversation, allowing me to collect myself.

When we returned to our cabin, hand in hand, Rory chuckled. "Well, that's one way to keep things interesting. Are you okay?"

I squeezed his hand. "More than okay. Sorry about the interruption, though."

Rory shook his head and smiled. "Don't be. It's part of who you are. With the good comes the occasionally inconvenient—I love all of it."

Our evening unfolded in a haze of contentment. We cooked dinner together, and over a bottle of wine, our conversation meandered from shared memories to dreams about the future.

"I could get used to this," Rory mused, his foot nudging mine under the table.

"Me too. Rory, I... I want you to know how serious I am about us and our future."

"I know. I feel it, too. We've been given a rare gift—a chance to rewrite our ending. Actually, it's not that; it's really our beginning."

We spent the rest of the evening by the fireplace, talking, laughing, and simply being together. As Rory dozed off against my shoulder, I thought about home—not the place, but the feeling. And I realized, with a clarity that took my breath away, that home wasn't Whistleport, the NHL, or any physical location. Home was with Rory.

The next day, back in Whistleport, I visited Tidal Grounds and recounted the weekend to an amused Silas over a hot mug of black coffee.

"So, how was your little sojourn in the great outdoors?"

I slid onto a stool, unable to keep the grin off my face. "It was... pretty incredible."

"I can see that when I look at you. You're fairly glowing like a lightning bug in July. This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain English teacher, would it?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Brooks, my friend, in this town, you can't scratch your nose without the guy three streets wondering if you need a tissue," Silas chuckled, leaning against the counter. His eyes, warm and wise, studied me for a moment. "But I reckon there's more on your mind than a nice weekend away. Want to talk about it?"

I took a deep breath. "I've been thinking... what if I ask Rory to move in together?"

Silas's eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained thoughtful. He was quiet for a moment, considering, before he spoke. "That's a big step. You feel ready for that?"

"I think I am," I said, surprising myself with my certainty. "Being away this weekend, just the two of us... It made me realize how much I wanted that all the time. I want to build a life with him."

Silas nodded slowly, refilling my mug without me having to ask. "It's good to hear you talking about putting down roots. This community needs you, but have you thought about the how of it all? Where you'd live and such?"

I ran my fingers through my hair. "That's the tricky part. I thought maybe we could move into my place. It's a bit bigger, and..."

"And it'd leave Rory's place free for your dad and Margot?" Silas finished, followed by a knowing nod.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"You've got a face like an open book. Always have," Silas said, his tone fond. "It's not a bad idea, mind. Bit like one of those house swap programs, just keeping it all in the family."

"You don't think it's too much?" I asked, suddenly uncertain.

Silas was quiet for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. When he spoke, it was with measured words. "I think it's great that you're thinking about the future. But have you talked to Rory about any of this?"

I shook my head, feeling a bit foolish. "Not yet. I wanted to sort out my thoughts first."

"Well, there's your first step. You know Rory. He's got a practical streak a mile wide. He'll want to hash out all the details."

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed. "I just... I don't want him to think I'm rushing things. Or that I'm trying to push him into something he's not ready for."

Silas smiles. "Brooks, that man looks at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him. Say it straight. Tell him what you told me about wanting to build a life together."

I nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling up inside me. "You're right. I'll talk to him tonight."

"That's the ticket," Silas smiled and patted my arm. "Now, onto more pressing matters. Have you thought about how our dear Dottie will take this news? The woman's liable to pop a gasket from the excitement."

I laughed at the mental image. "Oh God, I hadn't even considered that. The gossip mill will go into overdrive."

"That it will," Silas chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Might be worth mentioning it to her yourself. It would give you a better chance at controlling the narrative. Otherwise, who knows what tall tales she'll spin."