Page 60 of Soulmates and Slapshots
“I don’t want you to leave Maple Falls,” I blurt out, the words flowing faster than I intended. “I know it’s selfish,and I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to make your decision harder. But I had to at least tell you how I feel.”
“I don’t want to leave either…” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallow hard. “But you have to, and I know that.”
She clears her throat. “Yes, I’ve been working toward an opportunity like this for years. I can’t just walk away now, even if part of me wants to.”
“I get it,” I assure her. “I really do. Every time I put on my skates, I feel like I’m still proving I deserve to be out there. I understand what it means to chase something. More than you’ll ever know.”
There’s a long pause.
“But I was thinking,” she says finally, “I could come back to visit in a few months?”
“I was hoping you would,” I say softly. “And I love New York—so I’d like to visit you, too.”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear her sniffling. This sound makes my stomach churn.
“Fiona…it’s okay.”
“I know,” she wails. “I’m just really going to miss everything about Maple Falls. But especially you.”
This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
“I’m so glad you came here,” I say. “And we still have one last date to go on before you leave. You did win me in an auction.”
She laughs. “Yes, I did. And I want to catch a few more Ice Breakers games before I leave.”
“Yes, please. I seem to play better when you’re there…” I trail off.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” she says. “Go out there andshow everyone, including yourself, how amazing you are. You don’t need me to prove that.”
Hearing her say those words means everything to me. Fiona Hale has made such a lasting impression on me, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.
“Smith, you look tired,” Coach Hauser calls out the second I show up for morning drills.
“Yeah, I didn’t get the best night’s sleep, but I’m fine,” I reply, trying my best to assure him. I leave out the part about staying up late talking to Fiona or how I couldn’t stop thinking about her once the call ended.
Coach frowns. “Well, snap out of it. We need you at your best tonight.”
“Of course,” I say with more conviction than I feel. I go through the motions of getting ready, tying my skates, stretching, strapping on my helmet. But it feels like I’m moving in slow motion.
“Hey, Weston—are you okay?” Carson asks, patting me on the shoulder as he passes. I guess it’s more obvious than I thought.
“Yeah,” I lie, forcing a weak smile. I don’t have the energy to explain how bad I feel or the way my thoughts keep circling back to Fiona. She’s leaving. And I’m trying to figure out how to deal with it.
I skate out onto the ice in a daze, going through drills like a robot. I follow every one of Coach’s instructions, but my mind is a million miles away—specifically in the direction ofa woman who’s made more of an impact than I ever saw coming.
Before I know it, it’s game time. “Ice Ice Baby” blasts from the loudspeakers, and the energy in the arena shifts instantly. We head out onto the ice, and for the first time all day, I feel present.
I glance up into the stands and spot Fiona right away sitting next to her aunt. Seeing her instantly makes me feel better. She raises her hand, giving a wave.
She’s still here. For now. And I’m going to make every second count.
She gives me a thumbs-up, like she believes in me more than I believe in myself. And this brings a feeling of urgency—not to win the game, but to show her what I can do. She might not care about hockey, but I care what she thinks.
The puck drops, and we’re ready.
The Ice Breakers take control early, moving together like we’ve been a team longer than we have. I’m sharper than I’ve felt in weeks. A couple of solid assists and a near goal later, I finally feel like I’m doing what I was meant to do. After three long periods, we run away with a 4–0 win.
