Page 19

19

Stellan

The locker room is still buzzing with the high of the win, the energy of the game still lingering in the air as I pull off my gear and shove it into my bag. My muscles ache from the game, but I don’t care. I’m running on adrenaline, on something else. The crowd’s still loud in the background, and the guys are celebrating, but my mind is miles away. I’ve barely thought about anything else since the game ended: her . Fiona.

I know I’m supposed to keep my distance. I know what my coach and her father have said, that this has to end, that I can’t be near her anymore. But what they don’t get is that I’m not just playing a part anymore. I’m not pretending. I can’t let her go. I can’t walk away from someone I love.

As I head toward the exit, I see her.

Fiona.

My heart skips a beat, and then everything else seems to disappear. She’s standing with Grant. Her ex. Her ex —and from the way Grant is standing there with his hand on her back, it’s clear he’s still trying to worm his way in. I can’t stop the rush of anger that flares up in me, flooding through my chest. I don’t know what it is—maybe it’s the way he’s standing so close to her, or the way she doesn’t seem to be pulling away. Maybe it’s just the fact that I want her, and the thought of him being anywhere near her is enough to make my blood boil.

I walk toward them, every step a little more charged with that raw, burning emotion. My eyes don’t leave Fiona, even though I can feel my body tensing, the anger building in my chest. She’s laughing at something he said, but when she looks over and sees me approaching, her smile falters.

Grant looks at me, the arrogance still there, even though I can see the flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe discomfort—cross his face. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop myself now.

I stop a few feet away, my voice coming out sharp, laced with all the emotion I’m trying to control. “Grant,” I say, my tone low but firm, “can you back off?”

His hand is still resting on the small of Fiona’s back, and I feel the fury inside me rise another notch. I know I’m not supposed to be doing this—confronting him in front of everyone—but I can’t help it. She’s mine. She’s always been mine, and I’m not going to let him think for even a second that he can just pick up where he left off.

Grant stands up straighter, his expression shifting from mild surprise to a defensive sneer. “What’s the problem, Stephenson?” he asks, his voice dripping with that same old superiority. “Fiona and I are just catching up.”

Fiona looks at me, her eyes wide, her hand moving slightly, like she’s about to say something, but I don’t care about any of that right now. I’m focused on one thing only: her.

“Stay away from her,” I say, stepping closer, my chest tight with everything I’m feeling.

Before Grant can say anything else, I turn to Fiona. My eyes lock onto hers, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t care about the cameras, or her father, or any of the people around us. All that matters is this moment, her.

“I love you, Fiona,” I say, my voice strong, and I don’t care who hears it, because it’s the truth. “I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’m not staying away. If your father wants to kick me off the team for it, then so be it. I don’t care. I love you more than I care about hockey. More than anything.”

There’s a long pause, and I can see her eyes searching my face, her expression torn. I know this isn’t easy for her. I know she’s been told to stay away from me, just like I have. But this is it. I’m done pretending. Done staying quiet.

The press is there, snapping pictures, capturing every word, every moment. I hear the murmurs of surprise around us, but it doesn’t matter. This is my truth, and I’m not going to keep it hidden any longer.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” I continue, looking straight at her father, who is standing a few feet away, eyes hard as stone. “I’m not letting you go. Not for anyone. Not for your father. Not for the team. I’m not going to apologize for loving her.”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the small crowd that’s gathered around, the press in the background already starting to shout questions, but I don’t care. All I can see is Fiona. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Her father steps forward, his jaw tight, his face red with anger. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to let this continue, Stellan,” he says, his voice low but filled with authority. “I told you to stay away from my daughter. You’ve already caused enough trouble. You’ll never be with her again. Not while I’m still in charge of this team.”

I stand my ground, never breaking eye contact with Fiona. “Then kick me off the team. I don’t care. I love her, and I’m not walking away.”

Her father’s eyes narrow, and I can see the conflict in his face. He doesn’t want to lose control of the situation, but I can see the way he’s looking at Fiona, at me. I know what this means for me, for us, but I don’t care. I can’t pretend anymore.

Fiona stands there, silent, her eyes flicking between me and her father. She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the way her hand trembles just slightly, the way she’s holding back from reaching out.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the weight of everything between us. “I don’t know if this is the right time, Stellan,” she says, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after this.”

“Then let me prove it to you,” I say, stepping closer, wanting to close the space between us. “Let me show you that I’m not just saying it. I’ll fight for you. Always.”

She hesitates for a moment longer, and then, with a deep breath, she reaches out, her fingers brushing mine. It’s small, barely noticeable, but it feels like everything. It feels like she’s letting me in.

I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know what this means for us. But I know one thing for sure: I’m not walking away from her. I love her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it. Even if I have to fight the world.