Page 13

Chapter thirteen

Nate

" Y ou look like crap, Jones. Late night?"

James claps a hand on my shoulder as I lace up for practice.

I grunt. "Just tired."

"Tired or twisted up over your hot neighbor?" Ethan smirks from the bench, balancing his stick on one knee.

I shoot him a look and drop my bag. "You wish."

But they’re not wrong.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Mandy since I walked out of that room last night.

Not just the kiss. Not just her body pressed under mine. Not just the way she whispered my name like she didn’t know whether to pull me closer or push me away.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her, period.

Coach Stephens blows the whistle and barks out drills.

We hit the ice, running suicides and cross-rink passes until my legs burn.

Still, I can’t focus. Every time I try to dial in, my brain short-circuits with images of her lips, her laugh, the way her eyes went wide when my hand slid up her shirt and found those soft, perfect tits.

And, how she arched into my palm even as her breath caught somewhere between wanting and not knowing if she should.

Fuck.

I adjust my helmet and push harder. Nina's watching from the boards.

She tracks every movement like a hawk with a psychology degree. I mess up a pass, and she doesn’t even flinch. Just writes something on her clipboard. Probably: Nate is spiraling. See page 5 for coping tools.

After practice, Coach tells us to hit the showers and meet in the conference room for a group session with Dr. Nina.

Great.

Nothing like team therapy to cap off a mediocre skate.

We file in. Nina waits at the front of the room with her calm smile and intimidating posture. I grab a chair in the back, arms stretching out.

"Today," she begins, "we’re talking about commitment."

A few groans. One dramatic gasp from James, who clutches his chest and shouts, "Did someone say commitment? I thought this was hockey, not a lifetime supply of couple’s counseling!"

Ethan snorts. "Relax, James. No one's asking you to give up your dating app rotation."

Mikey adds, "Yet."

Laughter ripples through the room, and even Nina cracks a smile.

"Not that kind of commitment," she says dryly, flipping her marker open. "I mean showing up. On the ice. For your team. For the game plan. For the moments that matter. Even when it's hard. Especially then."

I shift in my seat, her words needling a little too close to home.

"Commitment means trust," she continues. "It means consistency. It means deciding that your job isn’t just about you. It’s about the guy next to you."

Connor raises a hand. "Even when the guy next to you smells like a foot?"

Laughter. Nina smiles. "Especially then."

She keeps going, but I zone out. Not because I don’t care. Because suddenly I do.

The thing is, I get what she’s saying. About trust. About consistency. About being someone others can count on.

Hell, I live it on the ice. But off the ice? When was the last time I really showed up for something or someone?

Mandy shows up for herself every damn day. Studying for the bar. Working long hours. Carrying the pressure like it owes her rent.

And I offered her my spare room to study. Told myself it was the nice thing to do. But if I'm being honest, it was selfish. I want her. I want under that perfect control of hers. And yeah, I want into her pants. Coward.

"Questions?" Nina asks, looking around.

No one speaks. Most of the guys shift uncomfortably.

James raises a hand. "Yeah, I’ve got one. Are we allowed to commit to post-practice wings? Because I’m really good at that."

More laughter. Nina nods like she’s amused, but she doesn’t let the moment escape.

"Commitment shows up in the little things like blocking a shot, finishing your shift, or taking a hit to make a play. It starts there. So, what moments on the ice have you held back? When did you hesitate to trust the guy next to you, or yourself? And why?"

There’s a beat of silence before Mikey speaks up. “I pulled up early last week on a backcheck. I thought Ethan was going to cover, but I should’ve finished it.”

Ethan lifts a brow. “I would’ve had it.”

“Would you?” Mikey shoots back, grinning.

“Point is,” Nina says, holding up her hand, “Mikey noticed. That’s awareness. What else?”

Connor leans forward. “I’ve been overcommitting on my first shift and losing gas by the third. Trying to prove I’m still in first-line shape.”

James chimes in, unusually sincere. “I’ve hesitated to drop the puck in tight. I’m thinking too much instead of trusting the system.”

She nods. “That’s real. Anyone else?”

I shift in my seat. “I second-guess reads when the pressure’s on. Especially since the trade. Still feels like I’ve got something to prove.”

Nina meets my eye and gives a small nod. “Awareness is the first step. The next is showing up, anyway.”

She straightens and clicks her marker. “So let’s lay it out. How can we adjust?”

Connor leans forward. “Maybe we rotate the second D-man up quicker on the pinch. Last game we hesitated and lost the zone.”

Ethan nods. “Yeah, or stagger the forecheck and give more room for read-and-react on the second wave.”

James, ever the jokester, actually sounds serious for once. “We also need to call switches earlier. That’s on me last game when Dillon and I both went puck-side.”

Nina gestures toward the whiteboard. “Let’s sketch it out.”

For the next few minutes, the room fills with markers squeaking and guys tossing out adjustments. Mikey diagrams a new look on the breakout. Parker suggests a tighter gap for closing space on the rush.

Coach Stephens remarks, “I like what I’m seeing here, men. Very impressive.”

I add my own thought. “If we tweak the weak side communication with just one word cues, it could tighten our recovery lanes.”

Nina beams. “Exactly. Commitment isn’t static. You adapt. You speak up. You trust.”

And somehow, those words stay with me even as the session ends and we all file out."

She looks right at me as she says it. Or maybe I imagine that part.

Either way, it lands.

***

Back at my place, I drop onto the couch with a groan. My shoulder’s screaming, so I grab an ice pack and slap it on.

The group chat lights up.

Connor: Engagement party at my place. Saturday.

7pm. RSVP or be shunned. Singles, bring dates.

Parker: Can I wear my tux t-shirt again?

Haley: Only if I get to pick the bowtie.

Connor: Nate, bring a plus-one. Or James is assigning you one.

James: I have a spreadsheet of candidates.

Me: Hard pass. James: Too late. The algorithm has spoken.

I set the phone down and close my eyes for a second.

A plus-one.

Nina’s words are still echoing in my head. So is Mandy’s laugh. Her voice. The way she always shows up for herself, no matter what kind of day she’s had.

I know who my plus-one is, and it sure as hell won’t be some puck bunny from James’s roster.

I toss the ice pack into the sink, grab a snack and walk out of my place, heart hammering for no good reason.

I walk down the hall and knock.

Mandy opens the door in leggings and a t-shirt. Hair up. Reading glasses on.

"Did I just break some sacred tort law by knocking during bar prep hours?" I ask, leaning against her doorframe.

She smirks. "Only if you don’t come bearing snacks."

I hold up a bag of M&Ms. "I know my audience."

She laughs and steps aside to let me in. "You’re lucky that’s my weakness and I like surprises. What’s up?"

I glance around, then back at her. "Connor and Haley’s engagement party is next weekend."

"Oh, that’s exciting."

"Yeah." I rub the back of my neck. "I want you to come. With me."

Her smile falters for a second. "As your neighbor?"

I step closer. "No. Not as my neighbor. As my date."

Her eyes search mine, wary but curious. "As your date, huh? That some kind of team hazing ritual?"

I grin. "If it is, I’m the one volunteering. No puck bunnies, no blind picks off James’s spreadsheet. I want you."

She lifts a brow. "I don’t know if that’s brave or stupid. My sister would kill us both." She folds her arms, still half in the doorway. "And honestly, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. You’ve got a reputation. I’m studying for the bar. We live next door. A lot could go wrong."

I keep my tone easy, but I don’t miss the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "Or it could go right. You’ll never know unless you say yes. It’s just a party, not a federal deposition."

She stares at me for a beat, then changes the subject. "Hey, by the way, Kira’s out on a blind date tonight. Her coworker set her up. Total ambush."

"Kira agreed to a blind date? That’s bold."

Mandy laughs. "She’s probably already texting me SOS but my phone is in the other room."

I chuckle. "Think she’ll bail halfway through?"

"Only if the guy orders a well-done steak and drinks milk with dinner."

I groan. "Yikes. Yeah, she’s ghosting that man by the appetizer."

We share a smile, the ease between us settling in again.

Then I clear my throat and meet her gaze. "So… you’ll go on Saturday?"

Mandy hesitates again, searching my face for something I’m not saying out loud. But whatever she sees there must work, because she finally nods.

"Alright, Jones. You’ve got yourself a date."

I grin, cocky but steady. "Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven. Go back to studying."

As I leave, my head's already spinning with what the hell I just did.

And how it feels like the boldest move I’ve made in a long damn time!