Page 79 of Fated Shot

“I just thought, um, maybe it’d make you happy.”

“You leased the space for me?” Disbelief still painting her stunning face.

“Yeahhh,” I pause for a moment. “I’m sorry, this was weird, right? I just remember how much you wanted it, and—God, I don’t know how to do this kind of thing. You don’t have to use it, I can just—”

Her rib-crushing hug cuts the words off before I can finish. I’ll never say no to wrapping my arms around her as I run myhands through her hair, pulling her closer to my chest. I’m sure she can feel my heart beating, it’s becoming more and more clear she’s the only one it may ever beat like this for.

“I don’t deserve you,” comes out broken, a whisper on my chest from my beautiful girl. Her eyes lift to meet mine, deep green beneath the tears pooling, on the brink of slipping down her cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.” My thumb catches a single drop, swiping it away under her eye.

“Why did you do this?”

“I don’t know, Mia. I know you weren’t ready to believe in yourself, but I believe in you. I know you can continue to grow Cookie and Co. and I want you to.”

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She sniffles, turning back to admire her soon-to-be space. “I’m not going to let you pay the rent though, you know.”

I can’t say I’m surprised, she wants to do this on her own. She’s so capable, she just needed a little push in the right direction.

I smile and shake my head. “I know.”

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

I catch a glimpse of us from the window reflection. It’s so surreal to be standing next to each other, hand in hand. I want to freeze this moment.

I know damn well why I did it.

I love her.

***

There are eight minutes left in the third period, and we’re narrowly hanging onto our 2-1 lead against the Boston Blades.

It’s been a fucking shit show, and both of our teams are getting sloppier. We’re more evenly matched this year. Same levelof talent, same drive, same grit. It’s always weird playing your old team, but you’d be surprised how fast you move on. Sure, I miss some of my buddies, but we all have a job to do, and the moment we step on the ice, none of that matters. You’re laser-focused on the win and the team on your back. I’m on the Tundra now and I’ll go down fighting for my team.

The Blades have been getting more aggressive. After a stopped breakaway from Kyle Durant, one of their new centers, the puck has been stuck in our zone. We’re scrambling, I can feel it. The moment John Daley intercepts a messy pass and gets it out of our zone, I take my opportunity for a change, bolting over to the bench. I got caught out there for less than a minute, but I’m already so gassed.

The moment I slunk down on the bench, joined shortly after by Max, I could feel the energy shift in the arena. I feel like I say this every year, but the fans are more amped than usual. Our powerhouse trio is on the offense, and everyone in the crowd perks up, ready for the big moves they’ve come to expect this season from the boys.

Penn had already made a beauty of an assist in the first period, but I know he’s dying for a goal. I watch as they surge forward, applying steady pressure in the offensive zone. The Blades’ defense is typically strong, but they didn’t have time for a change, and they’re scrambling to keep up with the relentless pace.

I watch as Theo weaves through defenders, setting up a perfect opportunity for a clean pass to Penn. One of their defensemen, growing increasingly physical, plows into him, causing Theo to circle back instead. He sends it down the ice toward the boards to avoid the Blades taking possession of the puck.

Penn skates after it, chasing it down just as he reaches the corner behind the Blades’ net. He’s looking down, eyes locked onthe puck at his feet, without even noticing he’s about to be met by Brett Maddox, the Blades’ bruising defenseman known for his aggressive style.

It’s like the play is moving in slow motion, I can’t help but feel the extra bit of tension as I watch on. Maddox has been shadowing Penn all night, and this time he sees an opportunity. I’m hyper-focused, seeing this second by second, trying to do something to will Penn to look fucking up. He’s gonna get killed out there.

The only one seemingly not inching forward is Maddox, who instead is barreling like a bull. He comes in hard, delivering a crushing hit that sends Penn’s head ricocheting into the glass before he drops to the ice.

The sound of the collision echoes through the arena, followed by a moment of eerie silence as Penn’s body falls. He lands at such a freak angle that his helmet flies off, head smacking to the ice with a sickening thud as his body slides into the boards.

Get up, Penn.

The nausea hits me before the panic.

Why the fuck isn’t he getting up?

Two officials rush over, frantically blowing their whistles to stop the play.

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