Page 13 of Your Love (Merrimack Mavericks Hockey #3)
Chapter 13
“I’m With You”
Landry - Age 18, 1988
“ C ome on, Landry,” the coach’s booming voice echoes across the ice, drawing the attention of my teammates, who are all skating effortlessly and with purpose. Meanwhile, I’m stumbling and struggling to keep up, a burden to my team. “You need to get your head in this practice, Kid,” he yells.
I can feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I glide back and forth across the crease, my movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Thankfully, no one can see my embarrassment through my mask.
My mind is elsewhere, consumed with thoughts of how Kerri will be home soon for Thanksgiving break. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her, heard her laugh in person, and wrapped her in my arms.
I tilt my head from side to side, attempting to loosen my tense muscles and clear my mind, and an electric current of anticipation runs through my body. Yet, amidst the excitement,nagging anxiety lingers. Will things between us be different now? It’s only been a few months, but a lot can change when you’re not seeing someone every day.
When Kerri first left, we agreed to remain friends and see where things went. I pushed for the arrangement. I knew she needed time and space, especially after what had happened in the past. Friendship was the most sensible option. She was leaving, after all, and needed to take things slowly. The last thing I wanted was to push her away or cause any tension between us. And so, I’ve been biding my time here, attending classes, hanging out with Ivy and other friends, and playing hockey.
I can’t deny it—the days have dragged by at a snail’s pace. Talking to her on the phone helps, but our conversations have been few and far between. Our busy schedules make it difficult to find a perfect time to catch up.
When we do speak, we stick to surface-level topics about school or daily life, carefully avoiding any mention of our relationship or true feelings for one another. I haven’t mustered the courage to ask her if she’s dated, and she hasn’t broached the subject either. It’s a tacit agreement that helps maintain my sanity while she’s six hours away. Neither of us is great at written correspondence, so letter writing hasn’t been a great option for communication.
The coach’s voice booms across the ice again. “I swear to God, Landry,” he yells, frustration clear in his tone. “If you don’t pull your shit together, I’ll sit your big ass for the game next week.”
I nod, trying to maintain my composure. “Yes, Coach.”
I have a tremendous amount of pride, and I refuse to give less than one hundred and ten percent to my team. Playing hockey has been a crucial part of my life for years. I’m not going to slack off, even if I don’t take playing past this level. I have other goals in mind for the future.
Coach Dupree and I have discussed my possibilities. He understands my decision not to pursue a professional career and agrees that I may be able to coach in the future. Goalies tend to coach themselves in a lot of instances. Most head coaches weren’t goalies and, thus, don’t know the position very well. There have been plenty of practices in my life where I’m off in the corner running my own drills while the rest of the team practices something else. My skills would be valued at the coaching level for the new guys coming up.
But right now, all of that is at risk if I don’t get my ass in gear and start playing better. I know it, and so does Coach. If I continue to screw up at practice, he may change his mind about my prospects for the future.
The guy who replaced Delzy as the best player and captain of our team is a guy named Marquet. He’s one year younger than we are, and the kid is legit. In fact, he’s the best puck handler on our team. We’re currently running a drill where they take a shot at the net from a steal and a breakaway. It’s a chance to assess how our guys handle the puck in open space and how well I can block a one-on-one.
With smooth, fluid strides, Marquet glides towards me, the puck dancing skillfully on his stick. My eyes are locked on the puck as he effortlessly weaves through defenders and passes, shuffles it back and forth on his stick. His speed is incredible, but I’ve studied his every move and know his instincts like the back of my hand. I can see it in the slight tilt of his head and the way he angles his body—he’s going to try to go high on my right. That’s his sweet spot, where he scores most of his goals.
Suddenly, he pivots his hips ninety degrees to turn his skates to a stop, the edges of the blades slicing into the ice and sending shards of frozen water flying in all directions.
I steady myself, crouching low and relying on my trained reflexes. My eyes stay fixed on the puck as he winds up for a powerful slapshot. In one fluid motion, I lunge to the right, my glove snapping out to meet the puck just inches from my face.
The satisfying thud of the puck against my glove echoes through the rink. I bet that thing was going at least ninety miles per hour. I feel the force of it reverberate through my body.
“Fuck!” he screams, his voice cracking with anger and disbelief.
I lift my helmet to rest on top of my head and wipe the sweat from my brow, feeling a sense of triumph. Finally a win for today—I needed that. Taking a swig from my water bottle, I bask in the satisfaction of knowing I’ve successfully defended my goal once again.
Marquet skates over and playfully shoves me, but the force doesn’t move me from my spot. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”
I wink and flip my helmet down with a resounding clack. “If you say so, Your Highness,” I retort with a playful bow.
Practice is starting to look up. I only need to remain focused for another forty minutes. No thoughts of long, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles.
Damn. That didn’t last long.
I step into the steamy shower and allow the hot water to cascade over my skin, washing away the sweat. Taking my time, I try to rid myself of any lingering tension and exhaustion. Once dressed and packed up, I toss my bag over my shoulder and make my way toward the exit.
My mom asked me to help prepare Thanksgiving dinner, so I’m planning to hurry and get everything done before Kerri gets home later tonight. Delzy and Taz won’t be coming home due to their busy practice schedules, but Sash will be home tomorrow. I’m excited to see her and to hang out, but for tonight, I want Kerri all to myself.
Exiting Donnelly Ice Center, the cool, crisp air hits me instantly. My eyes are immediately drawn to a figure leaning against my truck. Her silhouette is like something out of a dream, her curves perfectly accentuated by the setting sun behind her. It takes a moment for me to realize that it’s real and not some image I’ve dreamed up.
Kerri stands confidently against the driver’s side door with an alluring smirk on her face, clearly pleased with herself for catching me off guard. The fading light catches in her hair, transforming it into a golden-pinkish halo around her head. Mesmerized by her beauty, I can’t help but stare at her in awe.
My heart quickens as I walk towards her, each step lighter than the last. As I approach her, her lips curve upwards in a perfect smile. Finally standing in front of her, I feel a rush of warmth and excitement flood through me. She greets me with open arms, and I can’t resist scooping her up and lifting her off the ground. She giggles as I spin her around and squeeze her in a bear hug.
The scent of coconut fills my senses as I nuzzle into her neck, inhaling deeply. It’s a familiar fragrance, one that brings back memories of lazy summer days spent together.
It smells like my past, my present, and my future.
Slowly setting her down but keeping one hand on her hip, I take a small step back to admire her beauty.
“Surprise!” she exclaims loudly.
“I’m definitely surprised,” I reply with a grin. “I thought you wouldn’t be here for another few hours.”
She offers a small shrug, her shoulders rising and falling nonchalantly. “I finished my last exam early,” she explains with a slight smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “And I thought I’d take advantage of the extra time to get an early start on vacation.”
“I’m so, so happy to see you,” I exclaim.
“Me, too.” Her reply echoes my sentiment, a bright smile lighting up her features and making her eyes shine brighter.
“But I did make a promise to my mom. She needs some help getting Thanksgiving dinner ready, and I will have to help for a few hours.”
“That’s fine,” she replies. “I think I’m going to head home and take a much-needed rest before we meet up again later. It’s a long drive.”
“You haven’t been home yet?” I ask, surprised at this revelation. It’s hard to believe that she’s traveled all this way without stopping at her own home first.
With a firm shake of her head, her long hair cascades around her shoulders in soft waves. “Nope, you were my first stop,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting into a knowing smile. “And can I just say you looked great out there on the ice.”
“Wait? You saw me practice?”
“I caught the end. I love watching you play. You’re so talented.”
A warmth spreads through my chest, and I try to hide the grin that threatens to break out on my face. “I know,” I say with a shrug.
Kerri’s hand connects with my arm in a playful punch. A hint of mischief dances in her eyes as she speaks. “You’re so humble. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”
“Baby, all hockey players are cocky. It’s part of our DNA.”
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Kerri’s reaction is immediate: cheeks flushed pink, wide-eyed surprise. And then it hits me—“baby“ just slipped out without me thinking.
Great job, Landry. Way to make things awkward in the first five minutes.
Kerri’s recovery is swift, her graceful hand automatically reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she clears her throat. Her voice wavers as she speaks, a hint of nervousness creeping into her words. “I should probably head home,” she says, avoiding my gaze before meeting it again. “Call me when you’re done helping your mom.”
“Of course,” I reply. Feeling the need to hold her in my arms once more, I wrap her in a hug, basking in the warmth of her body against mine. I press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re home.”
She returns the hug tightly, resting her head on my chest for a moment before pulling away and giving me a small wave as she gets into her little red car. A pang of longing hits me as I watch her drive off, the sound of her engine growing fainter and fainter.