Page 4 of Hockey Halloween
Ford
Completely frozen in the same spot for what feels like hours, but is less than a few minutes, I watch her run away from me. I don’t call after her or stop her. I just stand there, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.
Because that haunted look on her face—a mix of hesitation, fear, and something else I couldn’t quite read—hit harder than any body check I’ve taken on the ice. Still, I didn’t say a damn thing to reassure her that I’m nothing like her piece of shit ex.
I’ve never claimed to be good at relationships or matters of the heart in general. Hell, most days I can barely sort through my own mess of emotions, let alone someone else’s.
Who knows what would happen if we even took the shot.
There’s no guarantee of this being more than one night thing.
Yet, even if we barely know each other, I want to see where this new, fragile thing could go.
With her, every interaction felt easy in a way nothing else has been in a long time.
Willa snuck under my skin so fast I didn’t even realize she’d left a mark until she was already running away.
Once the realization hits and I clearly see where I went wrong, I bolt for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I almost trip over my own damn feet.
Muttering a curse under my breath as I round the landing, I shove past a guy in a glow-in-the-dark skeleton suit. The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, yet all I can hear is the pounding of my heart.
By the time I hit the main floor, my chest is tight. Not from the sprint, but from the sinking feeling that I might’ve lost her without getting to know her better.
I keep moving, pushing through the crowd, scanning faces and costumes. No sexy mummy in sight. No familiar crinkle of her beaming smile. Only flashing lights, heat, and strangers. All of them blur together in a way that makes my stomach churn.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter under my breath.
“Ford?” I glance sideways and spot my linemate Beck near the main bar, a drink in one hand and his free arm slung around a cute brunette. “You alright, man? You look like you’ve lost something.”
If he only knew…
“I screwed something up big time,” I admit.
He lifts a brow. “That curvy woman in a mummy costume we saw with you earlier?”
“Yeah. I can’t find her.”
“She tore through here about a minute or two ago, looking ready to cry.” Beck winces. “Shit. Sorry, man. Go after her, you idiot. She can’t be far.”
“Thanks,” I call out his way, already moving.
The street outside the club is buzzing with partygoers, vehicles, and music spilling from other places nearby. It’s close to impossible to find her in this chaos. I spin in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of white gauze or a familiar sway of those wide hips.
About to give up, I turn back toward the street I’d written off and spot a familiar figure nearly a block away.
She strides further, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she’s trying to hold everything in.
The streetlight catches in her hair, casting a halo over the woman I should’ve stopped the second she turned away from me.
I don’t think, I just move .
“Willa!” I yell, dodging a group of drunk pirates spilling out of a cab. “Wait!”
She doesn’t turn or stop. So I sprint faster. “Willa, please!”
Her pace falters and that’s all I need. I catch up to her before she reaches the end of the block.
“Please, don’t walk away. We need to talk this through, because if I let you go, I won’t forgive myself. I have a feeling we met for a reason. It might seem crazy, but I truly do.”
When she turns to face me, the sight of her hits me like a puck to the face. Her makeup is smudged, mascara streaked beneath red, puffy eyes. No matter what, she’s still the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you who I was.
You’re right about that. But tonight with you was the first time in years I could be me .
The slightly awkward nerd who loves The Mummy , history and dorky jokes.
Not a hockey player on one of the best teams in the League.
” Her expression softens, shoulders relaxing, so I continue.
“I didn’t mean to lie or keep the truth from you.
I just got lost in the way you looked at me.
Like I was a person. Not a name on a roster or some guy in a jersey. ”
“You still should’ve told me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “At least before she did. I’m not mad you’re famous or play a sport for living. I’m mad you weren’t the one to tell me.”
“I know,” I admit. “Trust me, everything I said tonight—that was all real. I wasn’t lying or trying to be someone else. You got the entire Nolan Benedict Ford experience.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb. She leans into the touch, enough to break something open in my chest.
“You made me feel,” she murmurs, “like maybe I wasn’t crazy for wanting something real. Something that lasts.”
“You’re not. If you let me, I’ll try my damndest to prove it to you.
Knowing my issues with dating and trusting new people, I most likely will fuck up along the way, but please give me a chance to show you how good it could be between us.
All I’m asking is that you don’t walk away. Not from this. Not from us. ”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, I’m afraid she might step back. Instead, she leans forward. It’s barely a shift in space, but it sends everything inside me into motion. It’s all the invitation I need.
I close the gap between us, my hands lifting to cup her face. My thumbs sweep gently across her cheeks, catching the remnants of her smeared mascara. Her skin is warm beneath my touch and familiar in a way that makes my chest ache even more.
Pausing, I hover close, letting our breaths mingle while giving her one last chance to change her mind. She doesn’t.
So I kiss her.
A brush of our lips is tentative at first. As if we’re both holding our breath, testing the waters of something neither of us is quite ready to name.
Her hand finds the front of my shirt, fingers curling into the fabric.
Her mouth starts moving against mine with urgency, and suddenly, we’re not being careful anymore.
The kiss deepens, our mouths meeting in a way that feels both a question and an answer all at once. Her lips part beneath mine and I take the opening, sliding my tongue over hers, the kiss turning hungrier. She tastes like oranges and something uniquely her.
My palms slide back into her hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as she presses closer like she can’t get enough. God, neither can I. The way she kisses me shows me exactly how much she wants me.
When we finally pull apart, it’s not because we want to. It’s because we have to breathe. She stays close, her forehead resting on mine as our chests rise and fall in sync. Her eyes are closed, and when she speaks, her voice is a whisper.
“I’ll stay if you promise to always be honest with me.”
Her words land with their honesty and everything shifts with them. I nod, brushing my thumb along her lower lip. “I promise: no games.”
She opens her eyes, and in them, I see everything I didn’t know I’d been waiting for: admiration and hope.
Leaning in, I kiss her again. This time it’s less frantic and more certain, sealing the building connection between us. Her hands slide up to cradle my jaw and I swear I could live inside this moment forever if I had a chance.