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He’s still trying to get a load on who’s wearing his jersey. It could be Maddison, but again, I’m not taking anything else in right now. “You got her attention, at least.”
“Only one way to do it,” I say, my adrenaline at an all-time high as I skate backwards, watching her make her way down the stands. She’s fucking coming toward the doors. “Be right back.” I follow her to the penalty box doors because the doors in front of the players’ bench are currently obstructed and there’s too many guys to get past.
She walks as I skate. I’ve no idea what she’s thinking.
I have mere seconds to get my shit together before I see her again for the first time in six years.
And I’ve no idea what to say.
CHAPTER7
Emmerson
I can’t deny I’m impressed with everything to do with this game.
And I definitely can’t deny I’m impressed with everything Taylor James.
His presence is undeniable. His skill on the ice. His entire being.
From the moment I walk in, I feel the buzz of the stadium, and the buzz inside me knowing that he’s in the same arena as me.
I can’t take my eyes off him the whole game. I’m glued to #22.
Maddie gives me a little nudge when his name is announced.
She’s already donned one of the team jerseys that Cindy managed to swipe.
#13 Rivers is plastered to her back. She has no idea she’s wearing Taylor’s bestie’s jersey, Ashton Rivers. She’s never met the guy, even when we were in college.
On the other side of me, Cindy and Susie are totally getting into the game as well, so I figure I may as well support my home turf and wave the Seattle Hawks flag. You know, out of respect.
The vibe is like nothing I’ve ever experienced when I used to go to all of Taylor’s games in college. Susie and I went to a lot of games over those years.
And while it’s cold in the arena, there’s something warming about seeing Taylor again in his team colors, the ones he always spoke about and had wanted from the very beginning.
He really did it.
When he slams into the glass meters from where we’re sitting, I know he sees me.
His text message seemed pretty formal this afternoon, but quite frankly, what could I expect? I’m glad that we’re both on speaking terms at least and the fact he did reply in the first place. When he stands up and straightens himself out, he skates backwards for a moment, but our eyes interlock.
He plays fast, hard, and furious, knocking another goal into the net as the crowd goes wild. And he laps it up all the while.
It’s safe to say he seems very comfortable as a Hawk, as he amps up the crowd with the next goal. He’s very confident too.
It’s actually an amazing thing to see. After all the years he spoke about it, and the sacrifices that were made, I’m happy for him.
The twinge in my heart is just nostalgia. It doesn’t mean anything, and I can’t change it even if it did. We can’t go back.
“He’s an absolute superstar,” Maddison whispers, close to my ear over the crowd.
I nod in agreement, because by that point, I have no words.
The game rolls on, and they eliminate the opposition. It’s then that things get interesting.
Everyone is out of their seats cheering and celebrating the win before I can even blink.
When I am aware that I’m blinking again, Taylor is skating toward the glass and slams it hard with a gloved hand, staring straight at me.
