Page 237 of Skating the Pucking Line

Eventually, he turns about, but not before Wayne Nash notices his youngest son facing the wrong way. He glances up, but when he doesn’t find anyone obvious who’s stolen his son’s attention, he focuses back on the game.

“Fuck,” I hiss, slumping back in my seat.

Cooper is back there right now suffering. He just got ejected from a game for fighting right in front of the man he can never please and his brothers, who look at him like he’s a god. He’s going to hate himself for every moment of what just happened. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I could try and get to him. I’m sure Calvin could call in another favor to get me back there. But what if that makes it worse?

I drag my hand down my face right as Detroit scores again.

Fucking hell. Tonight is a disaster of epic proportions.

I almost leave in the next break, unable to witness what’s happening before me without Cooper being there. But I’m a better fan than that. I don’t bail when shit gets hard. So I force myself to endure the rest of what the game has to offer.

Spoiler: it’s not good.

We lose five to three, and it hurts. It hurts the fans, but most importantly, it hurts our team. Because they’re incredible sportsmen, they all hold their heads high and shake their opponents’ hands when it’s over, but defeat oozes from them.

I remain sitting in my seat as everyone around me begins to move. I should follow, but I can’t force my legs into action. And I’m glad I don’t, because when Huxley and Ryker walk past my row, they both wave at me.

I’ve seen them once through a screen, and yet, not only have they remembered, but they’re willing to acknowledge me.

Wayne looks between them and me with a deep frown marring his brow. Huxley turns back to say something, maybe to explain who I am—fuck knows; it’s too loud in here to hear a single word—but whatever he says doesn’t soften his father’s expression.

When Wayne’s eyes lock on mine, my stomach knots and my fists clench at my sides. I’ve seen his face a million times over the years, but it’s always been on the TV or on a billboard advertising God knows what. But right now, standing before me, he looks entirely different. His eyes are dark, his features hard. Having heard what kind of man and father he is, any admiration I might once have had for him firmly withers and dies.

That man standing before me isn’t an NHL legend; he’s an abusive asshole, and all I want to do is gather those two boys in my arms and take them away. I want to banish all of Cooper’s awful experiences and stop him from continually trying to impress a man who doesn’t deserve it.

Our eyes hold for a beat longer before he’s forced to continue walking. The second he looks away, I take a deep breath and finally release my clenched fists.

Muttering beside me finally gets me moving, and after picking up my trash, I follow the steady stream of fans out of the arena.

Walking away feels all kinds of wrong.

Is he in there expecting me to fight my way back to the locker room? Or will he be relieved that I haven’t chased him down?

Fucking hell, all of these what-ifs are one of the reasons why relationships never interested me. I watched friends at college go through it all, and from the outside, all I could see was the stress it put on them. What I failed to see was the connection they’d formed with that person. I had no idea that just one night with them, one kiss, one hug—hell, even a couple of seconds’ worth of eye contact—makes all the worries and not knowing totally worth it.

I’d do all of these a million times over if it meant I got more time with Cooper.

Reluctantly, I make my way back to the hotel. It’s a pretty long walk, but there’s no point trying to get a ride when thousands upon thousands of people are trying to get home from the game.

I figure that the cool evening air might help to clear my head.

It doesn’t. It does fuck all. And by the time I get back to the hotel, I’m just as lost as ever.

I flop back on my bed and close my eyes, exhaustion hitting me. But I can’t give up now. I didn’t come all this way to share some eye contact and then run back home with my tail between my legs.

I came to make a point. To show Cooper how I feel about him, to prove to him I’m serious about us.

I came here to support him, and I can only do so much of that from a distance.

64

COOPER

I’m fucking done.

Tonight has been awful. I hit my breaking point, and the whole fucking world saw.