Page 33 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ella

“Dude, I’m so excited for the game,” Aaron says from the backseat. “I heard that the Glaciers might make it to the playoffs again this year.”

“Duh, they’re going to make it,” Colton shoots back. “Kade is, like, the best goalie ever. He was the NHL’s top pick for the position this year. He’s basically the best there ever was. I bet it’s ’cause he’s been getting extra practice with me.”

I raise my brows and eye Valerie, who’s stifling her giggle from the passenger seat. I swear, kids say the most interesting things when they’re having conversations with each other—or really anyone, for that matter.

“Mom, do you think we’ll get to see Kade after the game?” Colton leans forward, his seatbelt straining as he pokes his head between the front seats.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the road. “He’ll probably be tired, but I’m sure he’ll want to say hello.”

What I don’t say is how much I’m counting on those few minutes—how I’ve rehearsed at least twenty different versions of what I might say to him.

The boys go back to their excited chatter, and I turn on the radio. The familiar route to the Glaciers’ arena feels different tonight—my hands aren’t gripping the steering wheel with their usual tension, and for once, the afternoon traffic isn’t sending my blood pressure through the roof.

“You seem … lighter,” Valerie says quietly. “Like you’ve made a decision.”

I take a deep breath. “Let’s just say, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About not letting fear rob me of something potentially good.”

Her smile widens. “I’m proud of you. It takes courage to give someone a second chance.”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve still gotta talk with him first,” I warn, though I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips .

For the first time in years, I’m letting myself imagine possibilities rather than worst-case scenarios. And it’s both terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

We finally pull into the arena parking lot, the massive building looming before us. I take one last glance at myself in the mirror—smoothing my hair, checking my lipstick, then immediately feeling silly for caring so much.

“Alright, everybody out,” I announce, trying to sound casual as I gather my purse and coat. “And stay together. This place is going to be packed.”

The boys tumble out of the car, their energy infectious as they practically bounce toward the entrance. Valerie hangs back with me, linking her arm through mine.

“Whatever happens tonight,” she says softly, “I’m here for you.”

I squeeze her arm. “Thanks, Val. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Inside, the arena is electric with energy. The corridors bustle with fans decked out in Glaciers’ gear, the air thick with excitement and the smell of concession food. Colton’s eyes are wide, taking it all in as we navigate through the crowd.

“Our seats are in section 101,” I read aloud from the tickets Kade sent, trying to orient myself with the stadium layout. “That’s … somewhere down here.”

“There!” Aaron points excitedly. “ I see 101!”

We follow the signs, and as we approach our section, my heart does a little flip. Front row. Right behind the Glaciers’ bench. These aren’t just good seats—they’re incredible seats.

“Oh my gosh,” Valerie gasps. “These are, like, famous people seats.”

“We’re gonna be on TV!” Aaron exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement.

As we make our way down to our row, Colton suddenly freezes, causing me to bump into him.

“Colton, what’s—” I start, then follow his gaze to a man already seated in our row. A man with familiar features, dark hair, and olive skin. A man who looks exactly like Kade, but isn’t.

Nate.

My breath catches in my throat. I haven’t seen Nate Santos since our high school graduation, and even then, it was just a glimpse across a crowded auditorium.

He was never unkind to me, but he also wasn’t particularly warm either.

And after Kade and I broke up, I always wondered if Nate had played a role in his brother’s decision.

Colton looks up at me, confusion written all over his face. “Mom, that guy looks just like Kade.”

“That’s because he’s Kade’s twin brother,” I explain, trying to keep my voice steady. “His name is Nate.”

Colton’s eyes widen even further. “Kade has a twin? That’s so cool!”

Before I can stop him, he’s racing down the row toward Nate. “Hi! I’m Colton! You look just like Kade!”

Nate looks up, startled, and for a moment, I see confusion flash across his face.

Then his eyes move past Colton and land on me.

Recognition flashes, followed by something I can’t quite read—surprise?

His gaze lingers for what feels like an eternity, and I find myself frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say after all these years.

“Sorry,” I finally manage, stepping forward to place a hand on Colton’s shoulder. “He’s a bit excited.”

Nate stands, his height and build so similar to Kade’s that it’s uncanny. There’s a stiffness to him that Kade doesn’t have, though—a more controlled demeanor that always sets the twins apart.

“It’s nice to see you, Ella,” he says, his voice genuinely warm, which surprises me. He extends his hand, and I shake it, feeling oddly formal given our history.

“You, too,” I reply, not entirely sure if I mean it. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long,” he agrees, and there’s something in his expression that seems almost apologetic. His eyes shift to Colton. “And you must be the hockey player my brother can’t stop talking about.”

Colton beams, puffing out his chest slightly. “You know about me? ”

“Are you kidding? Kade talks about you all the time.” Nate grins, then turns toward a woman beside him whom I hadn’t noticed. “This is my girlfriend, Mallory.”

The woman smiles warmly at us. “Nice to meet you all. Kade’s mentioned you so many times, I feel like I know you already.”

I feel my cheeks flush at the implication that Kade talks about us—about me—to his family. What exactly has he been saying?

“Oh!” Nate exclaims suddenly. “You must be sitting next to us. Kade mentioned he gave tickets to some friends.”

I want to correct him—to say I’m more than just a friend—but then I realize I don’t actually know what I am to Kade right now. So I just nod and introduce Valerie and Aaron, feeling oddly like I’m in a surreal dream where my past and present are colliding in unexpected ways.

I sit down next to Nate, and Colton and Aaron immediately follow suit, sitting between Valerie and me, whispering something to each other, which I assume to be about how cool it is to meet Kade’s twin.

“So,” Nate says, leaning closer to me as the arena lights begin to dim, “Kade tells me you’re a teacher now?”

“Middle school math,” I confirm, surprised that Kade has shared details of my life with his family. “And I coach a robotics team on the side. ”

“That’s impressive.” Nate nods. “And this guy”—he gestures to Colton—“he’s your nephew, right? Kade mentioned you’re raising him.”

“Yes, after my sister and brother-in-law passed away,” I say softly. “Though at this point, he feels more like my son than my nephew.”

Nate’s expression softens. “I can see that.”

Before I can respond, the arena erupts as the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, introducing the Glaciers. The lights dim completely, replaced by swirling blue and silver spotlights as the team skates onto the ice one by one.

“And in the goal … give it up for number one … KAAAADE SANTOOOOS!”

The crowd roars as Kade skates out, his movements powerful and graceful. Even with his helmet on, there’s something commanding about his presence, a confidence that radiates from him.

“GO KADE!” Colton screams, jumping up and down, his excitement contagious.

I find myself on my feet, too, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. My eyes are locked on Kade as he takes his position in goal, the breadth of his shoulders in the padded uniform, the intensity of his focus even from this distance.

“He’s having a great season,” Nate comments beside me as the national anthem begins. “One of his best. ”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’ve been so wrapped up in our personal dynamics that I haven’t paid much attention to his professional stats.

“Yeah.” Nate nods. “Coach thinks he might be looking at another All-Star selection this year.”

Pride swells in my chest, unexpected but genuine. Whatever happened between us personally, I’ve always known how talented he is, how hard he works. Watching him now, at the peak of his career, is a reminder of why he was so determined all those years ago.

As the game begins, I find myself completely engrossed. The players move like lightning across the ice, their bodies colliding with bone-jarring force.

And Kade—Kade is mesmerizing. His reflexes are incredible, his body seeming to know where the puck is going before it even gets there. During one particularly intense sequence, he makes three consecutive saves that have the entire arena on its feet, chanting his name.

Colton is beside himself with excitement, tugging on my arm. “Did you see that, Mom? Did you see what he did?!”

“I saw.” I laugh, caught up in his enthusiasm. “That was amazing.”

The first period ends with the Glaciers up by one goal, thanks largely to Kade’s impenetrable defense. As the teams skate off for the intermission, I catch myself staring at Kade .

Nate gives me a knowing look so similar to the one Valerie gave me in the car that I have to wonder if my feelings for Kade are completely transparent to everyone around me.

The second period starts with renewed intensity.

The opposing team, desperate to even the score, comes out aggressively.

The play is faster, harder, and the hits more punishing.

I find myself wincing at some of the collisions, even though I know these men are professionals who are used to the contact.

Kade continues to be a wall in the goal, making save after impossible save. The crowd responds to his performance with increasing fervor, the energy in the arena building with every blocked shot.

And then it happens.

Midway through the second period, an opposing player breaks free on a breakaway, charging toward the Glaciers’ goal at full speed. Kade positions himself, ready for the shot. But instead of shooting, the player loses his edge and careens out of control.

The world seems to slow down as I watch the player crash into Kade at full speed, his momentum carrying them both into the goal.

The sickening sound of impact reverberates through the suddenly silent arena.

The net dislodges from its moorings and Kade’s body crumples awkwardly beneath the other player.

He doesn’t get up.

My body goes rigid, a cry caught in my throat as I watch the scene unfold. The referee’s whistle blasts. Kade remains motionless on the ice, and it feels like the air has been sucked from my lungs.

“Kade!” Colton’s voice breaks through my frozen panic, his small hand gripping my arm so tightly it hurts. “Mom, why isn’t he getting up?”

I can’t answer. I can’t even breathe. My entire body feels like it’s been encased in ice as I stare at Kade’s still form.

“He’s down,” Nate’s voice stresses, and his tone confirms my fears as Kade remains on the ice, unmoving.

“We need medical!” someone shouts from the circle now surrounding him.

I spot Cameron ripping his mask from his face and dropping down beside Kade.

Even from this distance, I see the concern all over his face.

And it’s enough to put me into motion, nearly tripping over my own feet as I make my way to the exit.

“Stay here,” I say to Colton, who’s losing color in his face.

Valerie nods and waves me onward. However, as I take another step, a firm grip lands on my wrist.

“You’re going to have to wait,” Nate urges, stopping me. “We can’t get on the ice. They’re not going to let us. We have to wait.” His words sound distant as the medical team surrounds Kade, removing his mask and showing his peaceful—and terrifyingly still—face.

Panic threatens my vision, blurring it with tears. I feel like I could throw up, my hands shaking as the stretcher is brought out. “We need to get down there right now.” My voice sounds foreign to my ears, and all I can think about is Kade’s massive, limp body being loaded up.

“We’ll meet them at the team exit.” Nate grabs my arms and basically drags me, my feet feeling frozen to the floor.

He leads the way to the door blocked by security, but they let him through, obviously recognizing him as Kade’s family.

As soon as we slip through, I’m met with the sight of the medics and a stretcher.

“Kade!” I break free of Nate’s grasp, rushing to the side of it as the paramedics continue to roll him out.

My gaze floods over his features, the light bruising on his temple and his dark brows lax because of his unconsciousness.

“Kade, please wake up,” I catch myself crying as the words slip from my lips.

I can’t believe this is happening. Fear thrums through my veins as I grab his hand, squeezing it.

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to meet us there if you’re not immediate family,” one of the medics says as we reach the exit, where the ambulance waits on the other side of the glass.

I nod, but I don’t want to let go. “I love you,” I whisper, leaning over him.

“Ma’am, unless you’re family, you gotta go.” The medic’s voice grows stern.

I bat away the tears and wrap my arms around myself, forcing myself to step away. I squeeze myself tightly as I watch Nate slip into the ambulance, and I’m left alone in the dimly lit hallway.

Please be okay, Kade. Please.