Page 39 of Offside for Christmas
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Ellie whispered.
"Yeah, well." Cole lay back down, staring at the ceiling again. "Welcome to my life."
The wind howled outside, rattling the windows. Snow was still falling—he could hear it hitting the glass in soft, steady rhythms. Inside the cabin, someone laughed in another room, and Christmas music was still playing faintly from somewhere.
It should have felt lonely. But with Ellie beside him, it didn't.
Silence stretched between them. Cole waited for her to ask about it—about the bar fight, about Chicago, about why he'd really ended up here. Everyone always asked. Everyone always wanted the story.
But Ellie just lay there, not pushing, not demanding. Just... present.
And that, somehow, was more annoying than if she'd just asked. Because now hewantedto tell her.
"You want to know about the bar fight?" The words came out rougher than he intended, almost challenging.
He felt rather than saw Ellie shift, turning toward him. Her voice was careful. "Only if you want to tell me."
"I don't want to," Cole said flatly. Then, after a beat: "But I'm going to anyway."
He could practically hear her smile in the darkness.
Cole took a breath. He'd never told anyone this. Not his agent, not the team lawyers, not even Mac when he'd asked.
"There was a reporter," he started. "Young, maybe twenty-three. She'd done an interview with a few of us after the game. Tough questions, but fair. Smart. I remember thinking she was good at her job."
"What happened?"
"I was the last one to leave the locker room. Everyone else had already gone. When I got to the parking lot, I saw her by her car with these three guys. Drunk, probably from the nearby bar. They were..." He paused, jaw tightening. "They were saying things. Things no one should say to anyone, let alone someone just trying to do their job."
Ellie was quiet, listening.
"I told them to back off. They didn't. One of them grabbed her arm, and she looked scared, and I just..." Cole closed his eyes, remembering the surge of rage, the clarity of purpose. "I got physical. Put myself between her and them. Things escalated. Punches were thrown."
"And someone filmed it."
"Yeah. But only the part where I was the one throwing punches went public. Not the context. Not the part where I was defending her." He laughed bitterly. "The video went viral. 'Volatile NHL Player in Parking Lot Bar Brawl.' My agent wanted to release a statement, explain what really happened. But I said no."
"Why?" Ellie's hand found his in the darkness, squeezing gently. The touch was grounding.
"Because then she becomes the story," Cole said simply. "Then it's 'NHL Player Defends Reporter from Assault' and she has to relive it, talk about it, become a headline. Everyone would want her side of the story. She'd have to deal with social media,think pieces, all of it. I'd rather be the villain than put her through that."
She held his gaze. "So you let everyone think you were something you're not."
"I've been letting people down my whole life," Cole said. "Figured I might as well do it for a good reason this time."
"Cole." Ellie squeezed his hand tighter. "That's not letting people down. That's actually kind of heroic."
He laughed, the sound harsh. "There's nothing heroic about me. I'm a washed-up hockey player with a bad shoulder and no future."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He turned to face her, and in the darkness, he let himself be honest in a way he'd never been before. "My career's hanging by a thread. I've got no family, no real friends, just teammates who'll forget about me the second I'm traded to a different team. I'm twenty-eight years old and I have nothing permanent in my life. Nothing that matters."
Ellie shifted closer, and suddenly their faces were inches apart. "You matter."
"Ellie—"
"I mean it." Her hand was still holding his, their fingers interlaced. "You matter to Mac—he talks about you constantly, asks how your PT is going, wants to make sure you're okay. You matter to Coach—he sees potential in you, not just as a player but as a person. And you matter to..." She paused, took a breath. "To me."
