Page 28 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

Chapter nineteen

Whitney

T hunder.

It’s the first thing I hear, distant but rumbling through my bones like an omen.

The sky outside my window is dark, streaked with veins of lightning in the far distance, and I wonder if it’s about to storm.

Fitting. Because inside me, inside my chest, it feels like a storm has been raging for the past ten days, tearing me apart piece by piece.

Blake’s words won’t leave me alone.

No matter how much I try to push them away, no matter how busy I keep myself, they haunt me like a song stuck on repeat.

“I never stopped loving you.”

The way he said it, the way his voice cracked just a little at the end - it’s branded into my brain. It’s been a week and three days, and I still can’t escape it.

I press my forehead against the cool glass of my bedroom window, watching the late afternoon sky stretch lazily over my parents’ neighborhood.

Inside, the sound of laughter echoes from the living room - my parents, the kids, Keith, and Rosa.

They’re probably watching some ridiculous cartoon and arguing over snacks.

Normal. Happy. A world that feels so far from the storm inside me.

I should be out there with them. I should be focusing on anything but him. But even when I was in Chicago three days ago, my mind kept circling back to that night. To Blake.

This week has been, up, here and there…, do this and do that for me.

I spent two days editing the pictures and videos I took of Rosa’s outfits to post on my blog and social media pages.

Yup, you heard me…, for someone who kept saying that me being an influencer is not something “tangible,” she sure knew when and how to use me when it came to it.

I still remember her coming to see me at Blake’s, asking…

, pleading (that felt good, not gonna lie), with me to do some GRWM videos, fashion advice, and model some of her outfits.

She said she saw the GRWM video I did when going to the game the last time and the views, comments, and recreated versions of the audience.

So, we took videos, pictures, and indoor and outdoor shoots in various locations, with various models and all.

Should I say, I already have someone in my corner?

Next, I spent two days in the city for a contract signing, a new partnership that’s supposed to elevate my brand. A huge deal, one I’ve been working toward for months. And yet, even while I was shaking hands and toasting my success, all I could think about was “I never stopped loving you.”

I love it…, scratch that…, I hate it.

I hate how they linger, how they haunt me. How they make my heart twist in ways I don’t want to acknowledge. Because acknowledging it means accepting that something inside me cracked that night, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Blake is currently not in town. Two days after their match with the Blue Hawks, they played again, losing to them. The team is currently playing against the Blue Hawks again, this time, it is an away game. Keith told me the day before yesterday that they, that is the Avalanche team, managed to win.

Well, managed or not, a win is a win.

So technically, that is two wins for our team and one for the Blue Hawks. We need just two more wins in four out of seven games to qualify for the second division for the playoffs. They are currently playing the fourth game, so, good luck, Blake. Good luck Avalanche team.

Blake won’t be back until later tonight.

And I don’t know how I feel about that.

Because the second I see him again, I’ll have to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with this.

With us.

And right now? I don’t have a single clue where to start.

Hmm…, where to start.

I close my eyes, and my mind suddenly pulls me back to a particular night. A night six years ago. A night in the rain.

A night when I was the one confessing.

*** (Me – 17; Blake - 20) ***

The rain falls in thick, steady sheets, turning the pavement into a shimmering mirror. Streetlights cast a dim glow over the empty road, the only sound besides the rain being the occasional car passing in the distance.

And right in the middle of it all - him.

Blake stands at the curb, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, head bowed slightly. His shoulders are tense; his entire body looks like it’s carrying the weight of the world.

I tighten my grip on my umbrella and step toward him. “Blake.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even acknowledge me.

I let out an exasperated breath, shifting closer until I’m right in front of him. “Come on, let’s go. You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here like this.”

“Whit,” he mutters, barely glancing at me. “Go inside.”

I frown. “No.”

His head snaps toward me then, his eyes dark and unreadable. “What?”

“I said no!” I cross my arms. “You can sulk inside just as well as you can out here.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I’m not sulking.”

I arch a brow. “You’re standing in the middle of the street in the rain because Olivia dumped you. If that’s not sulking, I don’t know what is.”

“Just leave me alone, Whit.” His voice is hoarse and raw.

I huff. “Seriously, snap out of it. You and I both know that you and Olivia weren’t going to last. She was a snob. I’m pretty sure she thought Shakespeare was a fashion brand.”

Blake lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “She wasn’t that bad.”

I scoff. “Oh please.”

Blake shakes his head, but I don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitches - like he almost wants to smile. Almost.

I sigh. “Look, I know it sucks. But it’s not like you lost the love of your life.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

I soften slightly. “I know.”

“Oh, my goodness,” I groan, “I need to open yours and Keith’s head to see what goes on in there. I was just dealing with this same heartbreak issue with him last week and guess what; he has met someone new, aka, love of his life, yesterday.”

Blake laughs, shaking his head.

I cross my arms. “Don’t laugh, because it’s not funny.”

“Still…”

"You know, maybe if you and Keith stopped dating these girls who throw themselves at you, you wouldn’t be out here drowning in self-pity every few months."

His lips twitch like he wants to argue, but instead, he just lets out a breath. "We don’t always date girls who throw themselves at us."

I scoff. "Oh, please. You two act like you’re these wannabe playboys when, deep down, you’re both just idiots."

His brows lift, lips quirking in the faintest smirk. “Wannabe?”

I throw my hands up. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

Blake runs a hand through his soaked hair, muttering under his breath. "Thanks for the pep talk, really feeling the love here."

“Seriously, Blake,” I say, softer this time. “Why can’t you just stop dating those girls and just…,” I stop myself, suddenly feeling too exposed.

His gaze sharpens. “Just what?”

I swallow and my fingers tighten around the handle of my umbrella. “Just…, stop looking everywhere else.” My voice wobbles. “Just see me.”

Blake stiffens, his jaw clenching. “Whitney…”

“I love you.” The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. My heart is racing, but I don’t stop. “I have for as long as I can remember. It started as a stupid crush, but it’s not that anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

The rain pounds around us, cold against my skin, but all I feel is the heat burning in my chest.

Blake exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “You don’t…”

“Don’t tell me I don’t know what love is,” I cut in, my voice trembling. “You think because I’m seventeen, it’s just some childish fantasy? It’s not. You…!” I take a shaky breath. “And I love you for it.”

He lets out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. “Whit… You really don’t know what you are saying or feeling. You’re Keith’s little sister.”

I stiffen. “That’s your excuse?”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not an excuse. It’s…” He trails off, looking frustrated.

I stamp my foot, ignoring the water splashing up my leg. “I’m not a kid, Blake.”

But I just stamped my foot like a kid.

His lips curl up in amusement. Sighing, he pulls me against his chest and tugs his hoodie off, draping it over my shoulders. The fabric is warm despite the dampness, and his scent—clean soap and something undeniably him - clings to it.

His hand lingers on my shoulder before he finally steps back. His gaze flickers over my face, something unreadable passing through his eyes -something hesitant, something almost soft - but then it’s gone. He nudges my chin up slightly, just like he always does, and gives me a small, lopsided smile.

“Let’s get you out of the rain, shortcake.”

And just like that, I know - my first confession of love - unanswered. He wouldn’t see me the way I want him to because I am his best friend's younger sister.

And that? That’s the real heartbreak.

*** (Me – 18; Blake – 21) ***

It’s New Year’s Eve.

Inside the house, laughter and music spill through the walls, voices blending into an excited buzz as everyone waits for the countdown. But out here, in the quiet of the backyard, it’s just me, the cold air, and the stars.

I sit on the swing, rocking gently, watching the sky.

The sliding door creaks open, breaking my thoughts. I glance up to see Blake step out. He walks toward me, hands in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air. Without a word, he lowers himself onto the other swing.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” I shrug in response.

He studies me for a moment. “It’s five minutes to midnight. You should come inside for the countdown.”

I shake my head. “I want to do it here. Better view of the fireworks.” I nod toward the house. “You can go in.”

He tilts his head, watching me for a moment, then nods. Instead of leaving though, he starts swinging, slow and easy. I watch him for a beat before joining in, our movements syncing.

The silence stretches between us, but it’s comfortable. The cold bites at my cheeks, but I don’t mind.

After a while, he asks, “What’s your wish for the new year?”