Page 47 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Drew

The buzzer blares, but I’m already gone. We win, three-one, but the tunnel is the only replay in my head. Her hands in mine. Her voice saying we’re good. For real.

I strip gear like I’m shedding skin that doesn’t fit. No stat or scout matters more than getting to Jade.

“Klaas!” Ryan slaps my shoulder pads as we file in. “Way to keep it low-key. Nothing says ‘I’m focused on hockey’ like second intermission declarations.”

Easton snorts. “The girl I love,” he mimics, voice all high and ridiculous. “Bro, I thought I was witnessing some sappy-ass Hallmark shit.”

I don’t answer. Can’t. My body moves on autopilot. Jersey over the head. Shoulder pads off. Skates untied. The routine now feels like wading through quicksand.

“Leave him alone,” Blake says, grinning anyway. “At least someone’s got balls bigger than pucks.”

Coach Howell steps in with the clipboard in hand. His gaze locks on me. Not pissed exactly. Something messier.

“Good win,” he begins, voice echoing. “Albany kept us honest, but we controlled the tempo. Positioning in the third. Second power play still clunky.”

I nod like I’m listening. Really, I’m counting how fast I can shower and get out.

Coach continues with his usual post-game analysis. I catch maybe every third word. Something about forechecking. Something about the penalty kill. Then:

“Klaas.”

My head snaps up.

“Next time you want to turn my hockey arena into your personal dating show, give me a heads-up.” The edge in his tone softens a hair. Not approval exactly. But not a full-on smackdown either.

“Yes, sir.”

He moves on with the debrief, but his stare lingers even when he looks away.

I shower in record time. Cold water. Quicker rinse. Jeans. T-shirt. Hoodie. I’m halfway to the door when Coach calls my name again.

“Post-game stats review in fifteen.”

“I’ll be there,” I lie, not breaking stride.

“No, you won’t.” He sighs. “Go. And remember what I said.”

I pause, hand on the door. “About hockey?”

“About her.”

What he said back in his office resurfaces: You don’t get to run when it gets hard. You don’t get to decide what’s best for her without asking.

“I remember.”

I push through the corridor to a blur of congratulations, reporters, and a wall of sound. None of this matters.

The metal exit door is cool against my palm as I shove it open. I scan the half-empty parking lot and come up empty. Where is she?

Movement by the line of trees catches my attention, and my shoulders relax for the first time all night. Jade stands off to the side, with her hands tucked in her pockets, and head tilted up like she’s counting stars.

My feet move before my brain catches up.

She turns at my steps, and that smile breaking across her face wrecks me. “Thought you’d be signing jerseys.”

“I had somewhere else to be.”

And then she’s in my arms, or I’m in hers.

I can’t tell who moved first. Just that we’re pressed together, her face buried against my neck, my arms locked around her waist like she might disappear if I loosen my grip.

She smells like vanilla and cocoa and something uniquely her that I’ve missed so much it physically hurts.

I breathe her in, nose buried in her hair, eyes squeezed shut against the wave of emotion threatening to drown me. This is real. She’s real. We’re real.

“Your heart’s racing,” she murmurs against my skin.

“Yours too.”

She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, not breaking our embrace. Her gaze searches mine, asking questions she doesn’t voice.

“You didn’t have to do the announcement.”

“I did.” My voice is rough. “For me as much as for you.”

Her fingers brush the nape of my neck, and Jesus, that does things to me. “You’re not big on public displays.”

“I’m big on not losing you.”

Her forehead meets mine in a quiet yes.

“Jade?”

“Hmm?”

I pull back, just enough that she can see I’m not screwing around. I’m shaking, but I try to hide it. “I meant every word. I love you.”

Her eyes flicker, stormy blue, then soften. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It’s like I finally let myself breathe. “And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

A smile blooms, slow and dangerous, and I want to drown in it. “Good. Because if you ever try to ghost me again, I’ll haunt you.”

“Deal.” I grip the back of her coat, grounding myself. “But you gotta know, I’m not fixed. There are days I’m all splinters. I’m trying, but I don’t know how to be the guy who never screws up.”

She tilts her head, studying me like she’s memorizing every flaw. “I don’t want the version of you with the sharp edges sanded off. I want you.” She pauses. “I love you, too.”

My chest swells. I close the gap and kiss her, hard, like there’s no one left watching, not even the ghosts. It’s wild, soft, and urgent all at once. She tastes like hope and everything I nearly lost. She melts into me, hands clutching my shoulders, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

Not happening. Not this time.

When we break, both of us are breathless.

“Where to now?” I ask. “Food? Talk? Barton’s?”

Jade doesn’t hesitate. “I need to get drunk, but not off alcohol.” Her hand slides down, palm pressing against my crotch. My dick twitches, eager as hell.

“I like the way you think, Trouble.

“Yeah, then decide. Yours or mine?”

My lips twitch. “Somebody’s not in the mood to wait.”

“Someone’s been missing her man, something fierce.”

Heat flares, but it’s more than that. “Mine’s closer. Your call.”

“Yours, then.” She steps back, threading our fingers. “Lead the way, Klaas.”

The Jeep’s engine hums. The radio plays low, some on-the-nose song about second chances we don’t change. Our hands find each other on the console, pinky to pinky, then full palm to palm.

“You played well,” she says. “Scouts looked impressed.”

“Wasn’t thinking about scouts.”

Her mouth quirks. “Arena announcements aren’t standard recruiting.”

“Maybe they should be.” My thumb traces circles on her palm. “It worked.”

She arches a brow. “Worked how?”

“A chance to prove I mean it.”

Streetlights flicker across her high cheekbones. Doubt nips at me. Do I deserve her being with me after I ghosted her? Absolutely not, but I promised her the truth. So I give it.

“I talked to my dad.”

Her head turns, surprised. “The dad you don’t talk about?”

“I only have one.”

Smack.

“Stop it,” she laughs after that pathetic attempt at swatting my arm. “You know what I mean.”

I chuckle at her flustered face. “Yeah, Trouble. I talked to him after our skate.”

“And?”

“And he laughed.” The memory still burns. “Said it was only a matter of time before I snapped. That I’m his son, after all.”

She doesn’t fill the silence. Just traces circles on my wrist with her thumb.

“I drove for hours,” I say. “Ended up at the playground where Jake used to take me when my dad was … gone. And I realized I’ve been letting fear drive every decision about control so I don’t become him.”

I pull into the parking lot for jock housing. The entire block is quiet.

“I’m done letting him win.” I stare out the windshield. “Done running from hard things. Done letting fear decide.”

I kill the engine. For a second, we just breathe.

“Thanks for telling me.” Her soft voice fills my chest with warmth. I get a feeling she means for letting her in more so than telling her what I did. But I was serious when I vowed to include her in everything.

Once inside, Jade follows me up the narrow staircase to my room. I’m in no hurry. As much as I can’t wait to bury myself deep inside her, I want to take my time. I want to savor every precious moment with her. I’ve wasted too much time already.

My bedroom door is shut, just as I left it, but I hesitate before turning the knob. It’s not the first time she’s been in my room, but it feels different now. More significant.

The door swings open to reveal the sparse, ordered space that reflects everything about me.

The twin bed pushed against one wall, neatly made with dark blue bedding.

Desk in the corner with textbooks stacked by size.

Hockey gear arranged precisely on dedicated hooks—sticks, extra gloves, practice jersey.

A single framed photo of Jake and me from before things fell apart.

Everything in its place. Everything controlled.

Jade steps inside, and the room changes. Or I do.

“I’ve never brought anyone here who mattered,” I say.

Jade’s expression shifts, softens into something that makes my chest ache. She reaches for my hand, tugging me further into the room. Into my space. Into what comes next.

“Well,” she says, voice low. “I’m here now.”

We stand close enough that the air between us is the only thing left to cross.

This moment feels balanced on a knife’s edge.

One wrong move, one misspoken word could shatter everything.

I need her to understand this isn’t just about getting her back in my bed.

It’s about something deeper, something I can’t name without terrifying us both.

“This isn’t just about sex.” The words emerge more abruptly than intended, falling into the quiet space between us. “You don’t owe me because I went public tonight.”

Jade smiles. It’s teasing, sure, but steady underneath. Her palms frame my face, thumbs brushing against my jawline. “You told three thousand people you love me. And now you’re shy?” A beat passes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

She kisses me then, slowly and deliberately. It’s not the frantic, desperate kisses from before. It’s something else. Something that tastes like certainty.

My hands find her waist, drawing her closer until our bodies press together, heat building between layers of clothes.

We move toward the bed without breaking contact, a dance we’ve done before but somehow feels entirely new.

The back of my knees hit the mattress edge.

I sit, pulling her with me. When her weight settles across my lap, my chest unclenches.