Page 17

Chapter sixteen

She sees the cracks in my armor and fills th em with her warmth

Jake - 12 Years Ago

I slip away from the group, my heart pounding harder than it should after a simple game of capture the flag. It’s not the physical exhaustion—I can handle that—but the pressure in my chest, like something’s about to cave in.

I lean against a tree, the bark rough under my palms as I try to focus on my breathing. In, out. In, out. But the air doesn’t reach my lungs, no matter how hard I try. My vision blurs at the edges, a weight settling like lead in my stomach.

Not now. Not here.

I ball my shaking hands into fists against the bark, willing the anxiety to go away. I’ve felt it creeping in before—usually when I think too much about the draft, about what comes next. But I can usually push it down. Not today.

My pulse quickens, chest tightens. It’s like everything is closing in, and I can’t breathe.

“Jake?”

Her voice is soft, but it cuts through the noise in my head. I don’t want her to see me like this. Not Charlotte. Not when I’m supposed to have everything together.

I try to straighten, but my legs feel unsteady, my breathing shallow and ragged. She steps closer, her face full of concern as she stops in front of me.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I manage to choke out, but even to my own ears it sounds weak.

She doesn’t buy it. Of course she doesn’t. She’s always seen right through me. Without a word, she reaches for my hand, her touch gentle and grounding. “Jake, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath still coming in shallow bursts. I hate her seeing me like this—exposed, falling apart—but I can’t stop it.

She stays quiet, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles on the back of my hand. “I’m right here,” she whispers. “You’re safe. Just breathe with me, okay? In... and out.”

I focus on her voice, letting it anchor me as I try to match her slow, steady breaths. In, out. In, out. The world stops spinning so fast, the tightness in my chest loosening bit by bit.

Finally, I open my eyes. Charlie’s still there, her hand wrapped around mine, her expression calm.

I feel exposed, like she’s seen a part of me I’ve tried so hard to hide. But she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask questions or make me feel small. She just stays there, solid and real, willing to carry whatever weight I can’t.

“Thanks,” I mutter, embarrassed. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Sometimes things just get overwhelming.”

My throat bobs. I’ve always handled things on my own. Told myself I could tough it out.

“I just...” I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. “The draft... and everything. It’s a lot.”

She nods, her hand still holding mine. “I get it. You’re allowed to be overwhelmed. You’re allowed to take a break.”

Her words settle into the tight spaces in my chest, easing some of the tension. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I can actually breathe.

I glance down at our intertwined hands and give her s a small squeeze. “Thanks, Charlie. I mean it.”

She smiles, that light, familiar smile that always makes things feel warm. “Anytime, Captain Thunder.”

I laugh softly, the nickname a welcome distraction. “I guess Lady Lightning saves the day again, huh?”

A mischievous glint flashes in her eyes. “What can I say? We make a good team.”

We stand there for a while longer, not saying much, just breathing together under the trees. And for the first time, I think that maybe I don’t have to carry everything on my own.

***

Jake - Present Day

I stare at the muted highlights of the game playing on my TV, each mistake replaying in my mind like a bad dream. The thrill of winning our previous away game has evaporated, replaced by the sting of the recent loss we shouldn’t have had. But it’s more than just this game. Doubt creeps in, that insidious fear that maybe I’m not as good as I used to be.

When the plane touched down last night, I wasn’t ready to face the silence of my condo. Ryan went home to Claire, Eli to Tamara, and Chase hit a bar, probably hunting down a bunny. I should’ve done the same—gone home, tried to shake this mood—but instead, I drove aimlessly through the city, not ready to be alone with my thoughts.

The memory of the loss, the media speculating about my contract, the doubts swirling in my own head—they all collide, making it impossible to think straight.

My phone’s been buzzing, but I haven’t had the energy to check. I know Charlie’s been texting, her messages getting progressively more outrageous, trying to pull me out of this funk. They’ve gone from sweet to blatantly flirtatious, but I can’t bring myself to reply. Not in this headspace.

The phone buzzes again on the coffee table, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pick it up, half-expecting another one of her attempts to cheer me up. But it’s just a notification from a sports app, another article speculating about my future. I toss the phone back down, not even bothering to read it.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my spiral. For a moment, I think it’s one of the neighbors, but no one ever comes by unannounced. When I open the door, my heart stumbles in my chest.

“Charlie?” I blink, trying to process that she’s standing here in my hallway, casual in a sweater and jeans, but looking like a godsend.

“Hey,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I took the afternoon off.”

I’m caught off guard, surprise morphing into relief as I take in the sight of her. “What are you doing here?” I’m so glad you came.

“You’ve been kinda MIA, and I was starting to worry,” she replies casually. “Plus, I sent you some seriously ridiculous texts, and you didn’t even reply. So, here I am.”

I can’t help but smile at that, despite the dark cloud hanging over me.

She smiles back, her eyes scanning mine. “I thought you might need to talk it out. Or, you know, not talk at all. Whatever you need.”

This girl. Her words, her thoughtfulness. The fact that she’s here, that she took the time to check on me. It's something I’m not used to, someone caring like this.

A part of me wants to tell her I’m fine, to shrug it off like I always do. But another part of me, one I’m not used to acknowledging, is relieved she’s here.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

She shrugs, glancing around the condo. “I wanted to,” she says simply. “And I’m kinda pissed you didn’t reply to my amazing texts.”

I grin despite myself. “Sorry about that.”

“You should be. I put a lot of effort into those, you know.”

Her light tone, the way she ’s trying to bring humor into the situation, makes something inside me unclench. I step back to fully let her in, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

She nods, venturing into the living room, her eyes roaming the space. “So, this is the famous condo,” she says lightly.

“It’s nothing special. Just a place to crash between games.” I follow her as she moves around the room.

“You don’t really let yourself settle, do you?”

Her words catch me off guard, and I’m not sure how to respond. So instead, I just watch as she walks over to the windows, looking out at the city.

“This place is incredible,” she says, her voice softer now.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah… I don’t know. Doesn’t really feel like home.”

She turns back to me, eyes searching mine. “What does feel like home?”

I stare back at her, the question hanging in the air. I’ve never thought about it before, but suddenly it’s clear as day. You. You feel like home.

“I don’t know,” I lie.

She holds my gaze for a beat, then glances toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down?” she suggests, heading toward the counter. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Tea. The simplicity of it almost makes me laugh, but there’s comfort in it too. I sit on the couch, watching her move around my kitchen. Her presence is like a balm to the rawness I’ve been feeling since the game.

She doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t press for answers I’m not ready to give. She’s just here without fuss or fanfare, and somehow that’s exactly what I need.

As she potters around, she comments on little things she notices—the artwork on the walls, the view from the window. She makes a joke about my perfectly organized kitchen, and I can’t help but laugh, the tension in my chest easing a little more.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. I watch as she pours hot water into mugs, the steam curling up in lazy spirals.

The gray light filters through the windows, casting soft shadows across the room, matching the overcast mood inside me. But watching her move around, so calm and sure, it’s like she’s bringing a bit o f warmth into the space—and into me.

She glances over her shoulder. “Don’t apologize. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Her simple words hit me in a way I’m not used to. I’m not used to someone caring, taking the time to come to me when I’m shutting down. I’ve learnt to deal with this on my own. But with Charlie, I welcome it.

She walks over, handing me a mug of tea. I take it, the warmth seeping into my hands. For a moment, we sit in silence, the quiet between us comfortable. The chaos in my mind settles into a dull roar.

“This condo is nice,” she says after a while, her voice light. “But I’m starting to think you could use a little more disorder in your life. Maybe some mismatched cushions, a few dying plants.”

I chuckle. “Mismatched cushions, huh? Sounds like something Zoe would suggest.”

Her eyes sparkle. “She’s already mentioned she’d love to style this place. Consider yourself warned.”

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. Her light-heartedness is infectious.

The silence creeps back in, though. It’s comfortable, but I can feel her waiting, giving me space to talk. I sip my tea, searching for the right words, but they feel heavy in my throat. I stare into my mug, the steam swirling and dissipating into the air, just like my confidence did on the ice yesterday.

“It was a rough game,” I finally say. “We shouldn’t have lost. And the chirps… that stuff usually rolls off, but it got to me. Then the media’s all over me. Maybe they’re right…”

She doesn’t interrupt, her presence a steadying force.

“My contract’s up at the end of the season,” I continue, the words spilling out. “And I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m losing my edge.”

The confession hangs between us. I’m not used to being this vulnerable, letting someone see the cracks in my armor.

But Charlie doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t say anything at first, just listens, her eyes full of understanding. She sees those cracks and fills them with her warmth.

“You’re not losing your edge, Jake,” she says , steady and sure. “You had a bad game, everyone does. But that doesn’t change who you are or what you’ve accomplished.”

I shake my head, the doubt still gnawing at me. “It feels like it’s all slipping. The pressure, the media, the expectations… it’s getting to me. I’m supposed to be the guy who has it all together, but right now I feel like I’m falling apart.”

She shifts closer, her hand resting gently on my knee. “You’re allowed to struggle, to doubt yourself. No one expects you to be perfect. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

I take her in, letting my eyes slowly roam over her face, and I see how deeply she understands. She gets me more than anyone ever has. And she’s here, sitting with me in a dark moment, just being here. Not trying to fix me.

“It’s hard to talk about this,” I confess. “I’ve always dealt with this stuff on my own. But I’m glad you’re here, Charlie.”

She squeezes my knee. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The words wrap around me, warm and comforting, and I realize how much I’ve needed to hear them. I reach out and lace my fingers with hers, holding on like she’s my lifeline. “Thank you.” You’re my favorite person in the world.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she says. “This is what we do for each other, right?”

I lean into her, the scent of vanilla in her hair grounding me. “But what if I can’t do it?” I sigh. “What if I can’t balance it all. Hockey, this thing with you… What if I fail?”

She turns to face me, eyes locking onto mine. “You’re already doing it. Small steps, remember?”

Her words echo my own from a week ago, resonating deeply. I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her, needing to feel her close.

I nod, letting my eyes trail over her face, taking her in—every freckle, the curve of her smile, every piece of her that feels like it was made just for me. She’s the calm in my chaos, the quiet when everything else is too damn loud. I don’t know how I lived so long without this, without her . “Yeah, I remember.” I remember everything about you.

She smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my l ips. “Good. Because you’re enough, Jake. And I think you need to hear that more often.”

The conviction in her voice makes me believe it, even just for a moment. I bury my face in her hair, letting her calm the last of the storm inside me.

We sit there in silence, holding onto each other, and I realize this quiet understanding, this shared vulnerability is what I’ve been missing. Charlie doesn’t see the star player who has to have it all together.

She sees me, just me.