Page 53 of Tough Score

And I want what Sarah has.

Maybe I need to start putting myself out there more.

I pull off my jacket and pull on the jersey over the t-shirt I have underneath. Sarah gives me an approving nod that the jersey looks good, and then I follow her back out onto the field.

As we rejoin the team, Jaxson's eyes find me again and his eyes sweep down over the jersey I have on.

A soft smile plays on his lips. "Looks good on you. How do you feel?"

Excited, confused, hopeful, anxious… also, wondering if you invited me here for more than because my uncle has been hounding you to get me to play.

"A little nervous but excited. It's been a while since I played. I only came to watch so I wasn't expecting to get thrown into the game."

Jaxson placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. His touch feels natural—something I wasn't expecting.

"You'll do great. Just have fun out there," he says.

I can feel my nerves kick in, the adrenaline surges and starts to course through my body as I walk onto the field with the team to take our positions. As soon as the referee's whistle pierces through the air, signaling the start of the game, everything else is a blur, and my body takes over like it remembers everything it has to do without me thinking too hard.

It takes a second to find my rhythm with the team, but over the next hour, I lose myself in the match – the thud of the ball, the shouts of the players around me, the rush of sprinting down the field. But most of all… I lose myself in being a part of a team again.

By the time the final whistle blows, I'm breathless and exhilarated. The Tornados won 3-2, with me managing to assist on one of the goals. Jaxson catches my eye as the team gathers to shake hands with our opponents and grins.

"So, what did you think? Ready to join the league for real?"

I laugh, wiping sweat from my brow. "You know what? I just might be."

Chapter Eighteen

Reeve

It feels fucking good to be back sitting in the player's box, even though I'm still sidelined.

And walking back into the stadium without crutches like I had the last time I was here feels like a small victory, though the brace around my knee is still a reminder to everyone I see that I'm not here to play

The cool air from the ice sends a familiar chill down my throat and nips at any exposed skin as I watch my teammates glide across the rink. The rhythmic scraping of blades on ice fills my ears, and the sharp crack of sticks hitting pucks as my feet itch to get into the action.

I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling the crisp scent of the freshly cleaned ice in the stadium that I've called home for the last three years and that I hope to continue playing in for years to come. A sense of relief hits when I hear Coach Bex's whistle screech to stop a play that the team is practicing through.

I'm here.

I still have a shot at coming back.

They could have benched me—they could have traded me—but they still see the potential in me that I know I still have. In only a few more weeks, I'll prove I'm ready to get back out on the ice.

I hear a ding on my phone as a text comes through from Keely.

A smile tugs at my lips at her name across my phone.

She left this morning to do inventory at Oakley's after we made breakfast together and worked through my stretches. I'm more sore than usual, but I told her I wanted to kick things up a notch. I can handle the pain of rehab. What I can't handle is not making it to my self-imposed goal.

Keke: Taking your advice. Heading to soccer practice after inventory at Oakley's. Wish me luck!

My thumbs hover over the keyboard, quickly typing up a reply.

I'm happy to see her deciding to go for it and get back out there. And maybe there's a swell of pride in my chest that she credits me for giving her the advice she needs to take the plunge finally.

We're good for each other. I wish she'd see that, but she has to do what's right for her and I'd never push her into anything more. She has to come to her own conclusions about us.

---