Page 45 of You Make It Feel like Christmas

I T SEEMED FITTING THAT it was raining as Nick pulled into the visitor parking at Climate Pledge Arena on the thirtieth.

He and Maisie spent yesterday lost in each other and just hanging out.

His gut was tense but so far, he was pulling air in and out of his lungs properly.

When he’d left her early that morning—which fucking sucked because every time he looked at her, he could see hints of worry and unasked questions in her gaze.

He’d chatted with his therapist for over an hour.

Nick needed to focus on one step at a time.

Get out of the truck. Go in. Greet the guys.

Walking toward the team entrance, Nick was looking straight ahead when two guys flanked him. Huge guys. Guys he’d missed like hell even though it’d only been a couple of weeks.

“There he is,” Aaron Gable, the Guardians’ goalie said, throwing an arm around Nick’s shoulder.

At the same time, Charlie Gable, Aaron’s twin brother, center for the Guardians, came up on his other side. “Damn, dude. Did you get uglier?”

All three of them laughed. Three years earlier, People magazine had called Nick a pretty boy and the guys had taped the glossy magazine pages all over the locker room.

“Still not as ugly as you,” Nick said, the pressure easing off in his chest even as his nerves felt like live wires. How could something you loved bring so many sensations in tandem?

His brain immediately conjured Maisie and he almost missed a step.

“Uh-oh. You can’t handle concrete, you gonna be okay on skates?” Aaron asked, grabbing the door and holding it open.

Nick shook his head, grateful, and a bit overwhelmed, by the easy way they picked up where they had left off.

The locker room was loud with laughter and talking when the three of them walked in. It smelled like sweaty guys and they hadn’t even started yet. Nick’s face scanned the dozens of faces and a small piece of him wanted to back up, turn around, and go. Did the guys resent him? Had he let them down?

“Nick!” This came from several of the guys at once and then he was surrounded. The guys high-fived him, asked how he was, asked about his Christmas. They didn’t treat him like they resented him for not showing up to practices or riding the bench at games.

Coach, a mountain of a man with slicked-back grayish-blond hair and a chiseled jaw that had gotten him his own pretty boy comments back in the day, walked into the room and it went silent.

One of the assistants had already laid out all of their gear but Nick looked at Coach instead of his uniform.

Derrick West was a good man. A former player, he knew what he was asking of them when he asked.

He demanded a lot, expected more, and all of the guys respected him.

He’d texted Nick every few days to check in and it was Coach who connected him with a therapist, telling him his mind was part of his body and as an athlete, he ought to know he had to take care of his whole body.

Beads of sweat dotted Nick’s hairline but he breathed through it as Coach met his gaze, gave him a subtle nod.

The team had been together a day ago in California, so there was no need for talks or speeches or anything special.

It was just another day at work for all of them.

Except Nick, who’d pulled himself from the group and felt like he did his rookie year: a little lost, a lot overwhelmed, but also excited.

Eager. It’s just practice. Get on the ice.

No pressure, no fans. Just the guys, the puck, and the ice.

Nick could skate with his eyes closed and the minute his feet slid across the surface, he was pissed at having denied himself this simple pleasure for the last couple of weeks.

Giving himself some time to free skate, back and forth, around the rink, weaving in and out of the guys who were doing the same, he forced his shoulders to relax.

This was as much muscle memory and reflex as breathing.

Vividly, he remembered the first time he’d skated out onto the ice as part of an NHL team.

He’d been awestruck and positive that there was nowhere else on Earth that could compare.

The blades whipping across the ice was one of his favorite sounds.

He came to a stop, turned in a slow circle.

He didn’t love the game any less. He just didn’t need it the way he once did. He could breathe without it.

Something shifted inside of his rib cage with the realization. The whistle blew, calling them all in. Time to work.

D INNER AT THE HOTEL restaurant was more low-key than he expected.

It was… normal. The younger guys were still at the table when Nick decided to call it a night, wishing he could go back to Maisie’s and curl up beside her for the evening.

Instead, he went to his room, flipped on the TV, and called her.

“Hey,” she said, picking up on the first ring. Just her voice made his chest loosen with relief, like that moment when he untied his skates.

“Hey, yourself. How was your day?”

“It was good. I hung out with Lexi and Will for a bit then dropped by that gallery. I asked the owner what she was looking for specifically and asked a few questions about the contest, but I’m not entering it.”

He sat straighter on the bed, tilting his neck to the side. He’d kept up workouts but today was a lot. “Why the hell not?”

Maisie’s giggle came through the phone and his hand clenched around it. Fuck. He missed her. Was that normal? He’d just seen her.

“Because she said that I’m a well-respected talent that they’d be honored to showcase. The contest is meant to spotlight up-and-coming talent. She’s putting together a cooperative of sorts where established professionals mentor those new to their field.”

He closed his eyes, recognizing the feeling in his chest as pride. “That’s awesome, Maze. And well deserved. When will your work be up?” He opened his eyes and settled himself more comfortably against the headboard.

“In the spring. I had an idea I ran by her for an all-new series of photos and she loved it.”

“What is it?” He wanted to know. He wanted to be the person she told all of this stuff to first. The person she could rely on. Maybe you should take the first step to making that happen, coward. Tomorrow night.

“I’ll tell you when we’re face to face.”

“So, tomorrow?” Picking up the remote, he flipped channels, keeping the TV on mute.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Aren’t we spending New Year’s Eve together?” He tossed the remote on the bed, brows pushing together. They had plans. He’d never asked another woman to spend New Year’s Eve together. He didn’t date a whole lot but he knew holidays like that meant something to people.

“Yes. I think so. I mean, I don’t know how this works. I’ll be watching your game but I won’t see you before, right? Do I see you after? Do I meet up with you somewhere? Do you go out for drinks or something after or hang out in the locker room in your towels, talking to reporters?”

Everything in his head stopped spinning and he burst out with a deep laugh. “Babe, have you only ever seen sports in movies?”

“It’s not like they show a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff,” she said, her tone just short of snappy, which made him smile wider.

“They do, actually, if you know what to look for. There’s a friends and family room.

Your name, Will’s, Lexi’s, and Ethan’s are on my list. Show up about an hour before the game if you want.

There’s food and drinks. The game is at seven.

It’ll go a few hours, then I’ll shower and head out of the locker room.

I’ll have to speak at the press conference, I’m sure, since I’ve been out for a bit and people are curious.

Then I’ll meet up with you and your friends and we can do whatever you want. ”

A heavy sigh sounded in his ear. “Okay. That all sounds manageable. Are you good? Did today go okay? Do you need anything? Want me to try and sneak into your hotel?”

He almost said yes. A knock sounded on the door so he pushed off the bed.

“I would love that but it’s not a good idea. I’m fine. Today was better than I expected. I’m really glad you’re coming to the game. That’s all I need. To know you’re there.” He opened the door, phone to his ear and saw Coach. Waving him in, he lifted one finger.

“Okay. I am.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m here. And I’ll be there.”

He smiled, words churning in his brain that he knew he’d need to get out sooner or later. One step at a time. “I have to go. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Nick.”

He hung up, stared at his screen for a minute then turned to see Coach had shut the door behind himself.

“Your sister?”

Nick’s cheeks felt warm and he wondered if they went red—which was messed up since he was thirty-four years old—because Coach arched his brows and threw him a knowing smile.

“Not your sister,” he said, going over to the desk chair and pulling it out. “Sit down, Nick.”

Nick sat on the end of the bed, and even though Coach was smiling, his stomach tightened. He kept his phone in his hand, forced his other to stay loose.

“What’s up?”

“You did good today. You haven’t missed a step despite the injuries.”

Nick kept his breath even. “Yeah. I kept up with training and workouts. My knee feels good.”

“How’s the stuff we can’t see, Nick?”

His throat went dry, his pulse stuttering. “I dressed. Got on the ice. Had a good practice.”

“You did.” Coach kept looking at him, straight in the eyes, measuring him, reading him because he could.

This man had been there for him countless times.

He’d pushed him to be the best version of himself and kept his secret when Nick felt like he couldn’t be.

“Back in my day, mental health wasn’t something we talked about, Nick.

If I’m honest, it’s not even something I’ve talked about much in the last ten years of my career.

But Ellory doing advanced research in sports therapy, well, it’s opened my eyes. ”

Ellory was his daughter-in-law as well as Nick’s therapist. The team had a counselor, doctors, and trainers, but Nick hadn’t wanted to see the team psychologist. Coach hadn’t even asked—just sent him Ellory’s contact.

“I appreciate your help with all this, Coach.” The words burned the back of his throat. If anyone deserved honesty, it was this man.

Coach nodded. “I meant what I said, Nick. Your mind is part of your body. If it’s off, so are you. But you seem good out there and I just want you to know, regardless of what happens next, what happens tomorrow night, I’m proud of you. For a lot more than I can say.”

Nick stood abruptly. “I’m going to retire.” Fuck. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out. Why hadn’t he said it to Maisie first? Because you know when you know and it wasn’t until this second, you knew. Sort of like with Maisie and him. He just knew.

Coach stared up at him, his jaw flexing. The seconds felt like hours as Nick kept staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Slowly, Coach stood. Even slower, he walked to Nick, stopped in front of him, then reached out and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder, squeezed.

Coach’s gaze was bright. “Like I said, son. Proud of you. I want you on that ice tomorrow night. You’re going out, you do it right.”

Nick was shocked at the feel of tears burning his eyelids. What the ever-loving hell was that? He nodded, barely uttered the words, “Thanks, Coach,” before he was pulled into a brief, hard hug.

“Get some sleep,” Coach said, moving back and walking to the door. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Nick let out a long breath, then filled his lungs again. Out. In. One step at a time. Every step leading him exactly where he was meant to go.