“I hit the boards hard, and all I could think about was that I never told you.”
I stand there, the snow melting on my eyelashes.
“I love that you like iced coffee in wineglasses because it’s extra fancy and embroider your tablecloth every time you have people over for a party because you want to celebrate everyone. That you hang up disco balls where there might be a ray of light because you want it reflected. That’s where you find joy. I love that you decorate for every season and celebrate all the tiny pockets of good in this world because you refuse to sit in the dark. You’re braver than I ever will be.”
A sharp, hot sting hits the back of my throat.
“You never wanted the version of me that everyone else gets,” he says, stopping just out of reach.
It aches not to touch him, but I stay still, frozen to my spot on the sidewalk.
“You wanted the guy who dressed up as a nun just to hear you laugh. The guy who burns the bagels and makes dumb jokes and is embarrassed to wear his glasses. The messy, insecure version.” He reaches out, his thumb working over the wooden buttons of my wool toggle coat. His hand is shaking.
He swallows hard. “I know I have things to figure out. But I want to be better—for you, for us. I’m asking you to letme prove it because “I’m staying. I’m building a life here. And I want to do it, every single step of it, next to you. Loving you is so damn easy, Izzy. I mean that. You’re magic.”
“I don’t follow…”
“Ready for my hat trick?” He shows me his phone, that crooked grin of his more wobbly than usual. He pulls up his gallery, clicks on a video of him sitting in his living room, then hits play.
“Hi, Boston. After spending most of my life on the ice, I’ve decided this season with the Boston Breakers will be my last. I’m going to give everything I have in these last games, push for the playoffs. Thank you for all of your support. It’s been an honor.”
I swear I hear the words, but I’m still processing what he just said before he pulls up Instagram, adds the video, and types out the quickest caption before he sends it.
“Oh my god. Jack!” I grip his arm. “What did you just do?”
He stares at his phone for a second, shakes his head, and laughs before he stuffs it back in his pocket.
“I need you to know I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m going to annoy the shit out of you as long as you humanly allow. Isla, sweetheart, I’m done with hockey. I owe it to the Breakers to finish out the season. Heather’s taking care of all the logistics. But I’m done.”
I blink. That’s not what I expected.
“You told me you loved me, and I froze. Not because I didn’t feel it. But because saying it back meant admitting I could lose you. And I was terrified. Of losing you. Of not being enough. Of you seeing the real me and deciding I wasn’t worth staying for.”
My vision blurs.
“I’m sorry. For all of it. For making you feel like you weren’t enough when you’ve always been enough.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m so fucking sorry.”
His gloved hand reaches out and wipes the tears off my cheeks.
“I love you. I’m in love with you. I should have said it at the rink. Should have said it a hundred times before that. But I’m saying it now. I love you, Izzy. All of you. The messy, stubborn you. The you who takes care of everyone but never asks for anything back. The you who’s scared to need anyone because everyone’s always left.
I take a breath, let it out. “I love you, too, and I’m sorry I didn’t let you in when you were trying. I was so busy protecting my heart that I almost lost you.”
“You didn’t lose me. He pulls me in, his arms tight around me.
We’re both crying now. Snow is falling more heavily. The street is empty and quiet. Just us.
“No more pretending? You’re really going to be my girlfriend?”
“I’m going to choose us,” I say. “Every day.”
He smiles through tears. “Deal.”
I laugh, crying. “We’re really doing this?”1
“If you want to.”
“I want to. God, I want to.”
