Page 10

CHAPTER 10

DIXON

I pull into the arena parking lot, coffee in one hand, phone on speaker in the other. It’s early, the sun just starting to creep over the buildings, and the lot’s still mostly empty. I’m mid-conversation with Mia Decker, older sister of my teammate and former roomie Ollie. As usual, she’s talking a mile a minute.

“I’m telling you, Dixon, Nan is next-level,” Mia says, a laugh bubbling through her words. “Yesterday, she had me driving all over town for lunch. First, it was that little café on Maple. We get there, and she doesn’t want to go in. Says the vibe’s off.”

Mia is also an angel. Anyone who volunteers to help with Nan surely earns their wings, right? I chuckle as I throw the car into Park. “The vibe’s off? That’s a new one.”

“Right?” Mia sighs dramatically. “So, we go to another place. Same thing. She doesn’t like the chairs. Then another. Too crowded. Finally, I’m like, ‘Okay, Nan, you pick.’ And guess what?”

“She picked the first one,” I say, already grinning.

“She picked the first one!” Mia confirms, her voice incredulous. “And when we’re sitting there, she looks at me like I’m the crazy one.”

I can’t help but laugh. “She did that on purpose, you know. Nan loves keeping everyone on their toes these days. Plus the one on Maple is always her go-to.”

Mia laughs, a quick burst of sound that eases the tension I didn’t realize I was carrying. “She wants to keep me on my toes? Yeah, well, mission accomplished. She’s got me questioning all my life choices now.”

“She’s a master manipulator,” I say, grinning. “And I owe you one for putting up with her.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mia says, her tone softening. “I’m happy to help. She’s, well, she’s a handful, but I adore her.”

I feel a pang of gratitude. The team is my family, that’s something I love about being a Renegade. My dad is gone and my mother lives in Alaska, which according to Nan is “a horrific icy land that should hand out giant warm jackets when you cross its borders.” Nan refuses to visit and has also declared she’ll never live there, thus her living with me—so I don’t get to see my mom as often as I’d like. But Ollie is one of the players on the team who is from River City originally, so he’s got his mom here and Mia, too. He’s got two other sisters, who I met briefly in the past, but they live out of state. All I know is I got lucky when they wrapped their arms around me and included me as part of their pack.

“Seriously, though. Thank you. My mom offered to fly out, but I don’t want to drag her all the way here unless it’s absolutely necessary. This is my job now. Taking care of Nan.”

Mia’s quiet for a beat. “You’re doing great, Dixon. Don’t let her antics convince you otherwise. But just so you remember, I’m heading to Hawaii on Sunday. So after this weekend, you’re on your own.”

“Right,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll figure it out.”

“You always do,” she says confidently. “Now go hit some pucks with my brother or whatever it is you guys do at practice. Talk later.”

“Later,” I reply, chuckling, and the line clicks off.

I set the phone down and let out a breath, the quiet of the car settling around me. My thoughts drift to last night’s game and to how close we came to losing, how I nearly cost us with those mistakes. And then, inevitably, to Elle.

She was right to call me out. I hated it, but she was right. That moment when I stopped the puck and looked her way, it was like we were in sync, even if we don’t always see eye to eye.

I glance up, my train of thought derailing when I spot her car pulling into the lot. She parks a few spaces down, and I watch as she gets out, looking focused even in her casual arena gear. Her hair’s pulled back, and she’s juggling a gym bag and a coffee like it’s second nature. But there’s also something that tugs at me. The confidence. Her unapologetic nature and how she’s able to marry it with a softness I can’t explain.

For a moment, I can’t look away. There’s something about her—something sharp and determined that’s impossible to ignore. She’s all fire and confidence, the kind of woman who commands a room without trying. The curve of her mouth, the flash of her blue eyes, even the way she stands. It’s like she belongs anywhere she chooses to be and it’s magnetic. She’s not just hot—she’s formidable. And that makes her even more irresistible.

But she doesn’t see me. She heads toward the entrance with that same stride she always has, like she’s got the weight of the team on her shoulders and won’t let it slow her down.

I shake my head and grab my bag. Time to focus. Whatever’s stirring in my chest when I see her, I’ll have to figure it out later. Practice won’t wait.

The air is crisp, a bite of winter hanging on despite the promise of spring just around the corner. I sling my bag over my shoulder and climb out of the car, locking it with a beep as I follow Elle toward the arena entrance and make it a game in my mind to try to not stare at her rear as I trail her.

Other cars are pulling into the lot now, headlights cutting through the lingering morning fog. The crunch of boots on the asphalt mingles with the hum of engines and the distant squeal of brakes. I can hear the scrape of sand spread across the lot for traction, but the slick gleam of black ice is unmistakable. It’s one of those mornings where the ground looks dry, but it’s a trap waiting to take someone down.

Elle doesn’t seem to notice. She’s ahead of me, her strides purposeful, her breath visible in the chilly air. This is the woman who wears heels on the ice, after all, and is a badass for doing it. As she glances to her right, her hair moves in the wind, and I can see the telltale sign of a cordless earbud. She’s probably listening to Mel Robbins or some other transformational podcast. That’s the Elle I remember from skills camp: the one who had a playlist of positivity a mile long.

I stay a few paces behind, not wanting to invade during her time of input. Instead I’m watching the way she moves and wondering if the same Elle I met in the before times is still in there. I catch myself here, because I don’t think I’m the same person she knew before either. It could be that we’re on the same page, but I’m so busy wanting to fight with her I don’t see it. Shaking my head, I swear at myself under my breath as my gaze drifts past her to the delivery truck turning into the lot, its bright white paint standing out against the dull gray of the morning.

At first, I don’t think much of it. Just another vehicle rolling in with morning deliveries. But then I notice it. A way the vehicle shakes, as if the truck’s moving too fast.

As the driver takes a turn, the tires hit the slick patch near the service entrance, and the back end fishtails—wild and sudden. The driver jerks the wheel, trying to correct the giant vehicle, but it only makes it worse. I watch in horror as the truck lurches sideways, then straightens with a violent jolt, and is now pointed directly at Elle.

I stop breathing as time seems to snap in half.

“Elle!” I shout, already dropping my bag and breaking into a sprint. When she doesn’t react, I remember her earbuds and it presses me to go faster. I keep yelling her name as I go, getting louder with each breath. “Elle, ELLE!”

After what feels like an eternity, she turns, her eyes widening as she sees the truck bearing down on her. I’m close enough to see the fear in her eyes as she connects what’s happening. She freezes for a second, and it’s a split second too long.

I’m not thinking as my boots slip on the icy ground as I close the distance, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of the way. We stumble together, her coffee spilling, gym bags thudding to the ground. I twist us as we fall, making sure I hit the pavement first.

The truck skids past, missing us by inches, and slams into a snowbank at the edge of the lot with a crunch of metal and snow.

Elle and I collapse to the ground, her weight on top of me, my arms still wrapped around her. My heart’s pounding in my chest, my breath coming in sharp bursts.

“You okay?” I manage, looking down at her.

She blinks up at me, her face pale, her coffee-stained hand clutching my jacket. “I—yeah, I think so.”

Her voice shakes, and I realize mine probably would too if I wasn’t too busy trying to process what just happened.

The driver of the truck is climbing out, shouting apologies and something about the ice. I barely register it. All I can focus on is Elle. Her wide eyes, the way her hair’s come loose from her ponytail, her hands trembling just slightly as she tries to sit up.

“You’re okay,” I say again, like repeating it will make it true. I keep my grip on her waist, as if trying to convince myself as well.

She nods, her breathing starting to steady. “Thanks to you,” she mutters, her voice quieter this time.

My arms feel frozen in place, like I don’t want to let go just yet. But eventually, I let her out of my clutches and help her up, brushing some of the slush off her coat. The world around us slowly starts to come back into focus: the murmurs of people who saw what happened, the crunch of boots as a few of them come closer to check on us.

Elle looks at me, her expression a mix of gratitude and something else I can’t quite place, and there’s a rush of heat that swells inside of me. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well,” I mutter, glancing away. “Didn’t really think about it.”

She laughs softly, a nervous edge to it. “You might’ve saved my life.”

“Maybe.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes. “Guess you owe me one now.”

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, and for a moment, everything else fades. “Guess so.”

Elle winces as she tries to shift, her hand pressed against her side, and I step closer, instinctively reaching out to steady her.

“You okay?”

She shrugs as her hand touches the top of her head. “My side is sore, but there’s a bump on my head.”

I look where she’s touching, seeing the lump as it forms. “I thought you might have hit it when we fell.”

“It’s like my life flashed in front of me,” she recounts, her voice incredulous, “but I can’t remember a thing.”

Before I can say anything, someone shouts for an ambulance. The weight of the moment settles over us, heavy and unspoken.

“You’re not walking this off,” I say, my voice low but firm. “We’ll let the EMTs do their job. Let them take a look.”

Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp but softening almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Elle, stop being stubborn.” My tone carries just enough bite to make her pause. “Let them do their job.”

The medics arrive faster than I expect, bustling around her with efficiency. I stand back, watching as they assess her. She glances at me, and I can see the discomfort. Not just from the injury, but from being the center of attention. Her vulnerability tugs at something in me I don’t entirely understand.

When they lift her onto the stretcher, her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric, her knuckles white. Her eyes find mine again, wide and uncertain. I step closer, close enough to see the flicker of unease she’s trying to hide.

“You’ll be fine,” I say, my voice quieter now, meant just for her. “They’ll take care of you.”

“Hayden?” She says her name almost like it’s a question.

“Let me know if you get held up at the hospital. If you do, I’ll make sure Hayden knows what’s going on.” I look down where she’s white-knuckling the stretcher and take her hand, holding it in mine. “Trust me. Okay?”

She exhales slowly, her grip relaxing slightly as she nods. “Thanks for sticking around,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

As they start to wheel her toward the ambulance, I fall into step beside her, not ready to let her go just yet. She keeps her eyes on me, something unspoken passing between us—a connection that feels deeper than it should. When they reach the ambulance and lift her inside, I hesitate, unsure if I should follow.

Instead, I stay rooted to the spot, watching as she’s settled in. Before the doors close, her gaze locks with mine one last time. There’s a softness there now, an unguarded warmth that makes my chest tighten.

The ambulance pulls away, its lights painting the street in rhythmic flashes of red and white, but I don’t move until it’s out of sight. As I watch the lights fade away, it hits me that for the first time in years, I feel completely untethered. Unbalanced, and as if the ground has shifted beneath me. I look around the parking lot feeling unsettled. What am I doing? I can’t stay here, not after that.

There’s a knowing that springs to life deep inside as I race back to my car, fling my bag onto the passenger seat, and jump behind the wheel.

* * *

Even in its still moments, a hospital is never quiet. It’s full of subtle noise, of life being held together by machines, movement, and thin hope.

Today, River City Memorial hums with hushed intensity. Overhead, the fluorescent lights buzz, a constant electric whine that seeps into your bones. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeps in steady rhythm—reassuring, until it skips or speeds up.

Beside me sits a young woman, I’m guessing she’s in her early twenties. She’s been scrolling her phone since I was ushered into the waiting room an hour ago. The room has been silent except for the occasional sounds of a video on Instagram or some other social media platform she’s probably zeroed in on. Not that we need to talk, but it’s nice having someone else in the room who is probably in the same head space I am at this very moment, because what other head space can you be in when you’re in a hospital waiting room?

Honestly, I don’t know why I hopped in my car and chose to drive like a maniac, catching up to and following the ambulance all the way to the hospital. It’s not like I could do anything to help at this point, only doctors will be able to make sure she’s okay.

What I do know is that the moment they shut the doors to the ambulance, everything inside of me was suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, and I knew I had to come too.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Are you with Miss Carter?”

I glance up to find one of the nurses standing in front of me holding a bag and a cell phone.

“I’m with her. But not with her. We know each other.” Obviously, I’m feeling the need to explain myself, but it’s not like this poor nurse needs to also act as my therapist right now. I stop talking and clear my throat, taking a moment before starting over, and sitting up a little taller. “What I mean to say is yes. I am with Miss Carter because I work with Miss Carter.”

“Great.” Her brow may be furrowed but she’s smiling as she holds the items in her hands out for me to take. “We’ve notified her next of kin, and they’ll be here soon. In the meantime do you mind holding on to her things? She’s getting x-rays and we don’t want her things lost in the shuffle back there.”

“Sure.” I take the bag and drop it on the empty seat beside me and put her phone on my lap.

The nurse then turns to the young woman on the other side of me. “Are you ready to go back now?”

My silent waiting room partner jumps up and trails behind the nurse. The two of them disappear behind the automatic doors, leaving me all alone in the now empty room with nothing but my thoughts and the occasional chirp of hospital machinery to keep me company.

Now that I am alone, I go down a list in my head of things I could do to help Elle. I would call Hayden, but it would seem that the hospital has done that. I could ask to go back and sit with her, but that would come out of nowhere. Seeing how my attitude hasn’t been the best, I’m sure it would be a bit of a shock if I suddenly appeared in Elle’s hospital room while she waits for the doctor to see her.

The look on her face when she came to grips with what had happened will stay etched in my mind forever. She’d been so pale, shaking in my arms, and all I wanted to do was hold her closer to me and not let anyone else touch her. I’ve had moments where I’ve felt protective over those I love; my mother, Nan, even some of the guys on the team. But this was different. The sensation was fierce and instant, and wasn’t a feeling I could ignore.

The sound of a rooster crowing makes me look down at my lap where Elle’s phone flashes. The name Eric intermittently appears on the screen before the crowing stops. I pick up the phone as it dings––does this woman have an alert on here for everything?––and see she missed five calls from this Eric plus a couple of texts…all showing that the caller an Eric as well. Oddly enough, I think Elle used to date someone that went by that name, and I wonder if this is him.

“Trying to break into Aunt Elle’s phone?” The sound of Hayden’s cheerful tone snaps me to attention.

“Hey there,” I say, handing the phone to her. “She got a message just now. In fact she’s got a lot of them and all from someone named Eric.”

“Ew.” Hayden rolls her eyes as she takes the phone from me. “He’s an ex who doesn’t deserve our energy.”

“Gotcha.” I like the way she thinks. “How is she?”

She shakes her head. “Not sure yet, but I’m going back now. The nurse at the front desk said you may still be here so I wanted to relieve you of purse-babysitting duties.”

“Oh yeah, got that too,” I say, swiping it off the seat beside me and passing it over to Hayden. “Do you two need anything? Car ride home or I can go pick up some food for you both?”

“Thanks, but we should be good,” Hayden says as she throws Elle’s purse over her shoulder. “The nurse did tell me that Aunt Elle is sitting up and asking if she can go home already, and the doctors think she’s fine. They just need to be certain there isn’t a concussion before I take her out of here.”

I nod, feeling some relief with this news. “She’s probably already planning her escape route.”

Hayden chuckles. “That sounds about right.”

She hesitates for a second before turning toward the door, glancing back at me. “You coming back to see her?”

I give her a half-smile, trying to keep it casual. “If she’s already asking about leaving, I think I’ll let you handle the rest. You’ve got this.”

Hayden smirks as she crosses fingers, holding them in the air for me to see. “Here’s hoping.”

I stand up and grab my jacket. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Food, rides...whatever. I’m here.”

“Thanks, Dixon.” She offers a playful grin before turning to go.

“Take care of her,” I call after her, my voice a little softer than I meant it to be.

She gives a quick wave before disappearing down the hall, and I stand there for a second, staring at the empty hallway. There’s a part of me that is wishing I’d run after that kid and offer her money to not tell Elle I was even here. Yet, there’s another part of me that wants to go with her, to make sure Elle’s okay, but I’m not going to. Not now.

I turn on my heel and head toward the parking lot, my thoughts all pointed toward Elle, as if she was the North Star. The arguing, our history, the times we sat up too late talking and sharing what our truest fears were about our careers, and the absolute shock it’s been to my system to see her almost get taken away from me today.

The hospital’s automatic doors slide open with a high-pitched squeak, and the night air hits my face, making me pull my collar tighter around my neck out of habit. Funny thing is, I’m not even cold right now. I’m warm but it’s an unsettled heat. It’s the kind of warmth that gets under your skin, makes you second-guess what you thought you knew, and leaves you wondering why you’re suddenly more aware of the world around you. The chill doesn’t even register, because there’s something else. Something in my chest, a little fluttering, like a nudge I can’t quite ignore.

I stop walking for a second, standing still in the middle of the parking lot as if I’ve been hit with a bolt of educational lightning. I’m starting to understand why my antennae goes up when I hear her name, the reason why I can go toe to toe with her all day if I need to, and why it is that my heartbeat goes off the charts when she’s near me, and it has done for years.

History be damned, it is safe to say that without a doubt, I am falling head over heels into some kind of wonderful with Elle Carter.