Hunter: I didn’t want to see your expression if you didn’t like my surprise either.
My own laughter fills my silent apartment as I flop back on my bed and hug my phone to my chest.
My first call to him goes to voicemail. So does my second. My desperation to hear him say those words growing stronger with each second.
Hunter: We’re reviewing film before we leave. Can’t talk.
Me: I found your surprise. Tennis balls. Lots and lots of tennis balls.
Hunter: LOL. I meant what I wrote.
Me: I know.
I squeal into my apartment in elation. I probably scare the neighbors, but I don’t care.
Hunter Maddox loves me.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
HUNTER
THE CHARTER COACH IS SPACIOUS. The Cyclone’s arena is too close to fly and too far to get there ourselves, so we’re all spread out among the seats of the bus, each of us in our own row as we make our way to what could be the final game of the series if we can pull it off.
I stare at the manila envelope for a moment, before curiosity gets the better of me and I open it. I spill the contents out onto the tray table in front of me and it takes me a second to realize what I’m seeing.
And when I do, I’m speechless. One of my dreams is coming to life before my eyes.
The renditions are in different colors with varying logos, but they’re all the same thing—or rather the same place. Dekker had a graphic designer create mock-ups of looks and logos for the arena I told her I wanted to buy. The Jonah Maddox Hockey Facility.
I thumb through the fifteen or so versions, over and over, as chills chase over my skin at the sight of them. At the knowledge that she heard my dream and is trying to help me see it brought to life. Seeing the logos makes my idea seem that much more real, and I know come hell or high water, I will make this happen.
I grab my phone to text her, glad she understands that Coach has a no talking on cell phones rule on the bus.
Me: I’m speechless. They’re incredible. I can’t wait for you to help me pick one.
Dekker: See? Dreams do come true. Now, go out and achieve your other dream tomorrow.
Me: I love you.
Dekker: I love you too.
I stare at the text. At the three words and the weight they hold when I never thought I deserved them, and know I truly do mean them. Fuck, how can I not when it comes to a woman like Dekker?
She’s everything I need and nothing I deserve.
She’s strong, passionate, driven . . . and I love that she doesn’t take shit from anybody, least of all me.
She’s seen me at my worst and still loves me.
She champions my dreams when I doubt them, and she fights for me when I’ve stopped wanting to fight for myself.
How did I get to be such a lucky bastard?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
HUNTER
“GOOD MEETING YOU, MAN,” KATZ says to Jonah before heading out of the meet and greet room where we’ve been hanging out in the underbelly of the arena.
“See you in a few,” I say.
“My, he’s handsome,” my mother says with a smile and a fluff of her hair.
“I like to think more of his hockey skills than his looks, but that’s just me,” I tease, the strain a little less with each minute we visit. “You too, right, J?”
My brother looks so very weak—the pallor of his skin, the hollow lines of his face, his size—but it’s his eyes when he looks at me that get me. He’s proud. So very proud of me, and I refuse to let him down tonight.
I lean over to his ear and whisper what feels like I’ve waited a lifetime to say to him. “Tonight’s the night, Jonah. We’re going to win that Cup we promised each other when we were kids. You pushed me to be better and fuck . . . I’d give anything for it to be you out there, for me to be rooting for you. I would.” I close my eyes to fight the tears so I can finish what I need to say. “I promised you I’d get here someday and that when I did, we’d do this together . . . so this game is for you, brother. Every shot, every juke, every block. I needed you here to win, because I couldn’t do this without you.”
I rest my forehead against his as my shoulders shudder with the weight of my words and the chance at my fingertips. When I lean back to meet his eyes, there are tears on his cheeks. He understands. He hears me. He forgives me.
He’s with me.
“I’ve gotta get to the locker room.” I turn to my mom and freeze when I see my dad standing in the doorway. “Dad.” I sound like a child when I say his name.
You came to a game. To my game.
You’re here.
“Son.” He nods and takes a step forward. He extends a hand to me to shake and I do so, feeling detached and uncertain.
“Sir.” I stumble over words. “Thank you for coming.”
Another somber nod. “Good luck tonight.”
Our eyes hold, and fuck if my chest doesn’t tighten. “I’ve got to go.”
And when I walk out of the room, I stop and brace my hands on my knees for a few moments to catch my breath.
The man I’ve called Dad for thirty-two years used to tower over me. Add in his anger, his shame, his . . . loathing, I’ve always felt so small.
But not now.
Now, I feel tall, like I tower over him.
Now, I feel proud, because I earned everything about this fucking moment. I’m the one who put the blood, the sweat, and the tears in. I’m the one who has sacrificed parts of my life for this chance.
Yeah, him showing up means something to me, but tonight I’m playing for something bigger than him and his relentless criticism. His presence doesn’t erase anything . . .
I have a job to do. A win for my team to produce. A place in history to make. So, I straighten and turn toward the training room, ready to lead my team to victory.
Ready to achieve my dream.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
DEKKER
THE PRESS BOX IS NOT where I want to be to watch this game. I want to be with the fans. I want to be high-fiving when goals are made and booing on bad calls by the ref.
Tonight’s game is definitely not one I want to watch from the expensive seats.
But I’ve spent the better part of the last hour up here as the countdown to the face off draws near. I’ve visited with Carla, since apparently Hunter has told her we’re dating, I’ve talked at length to Jonah about how Hunter’s conversations on the phone with him give him more clarity than I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been introduced to Gary, their father.
He’s a hard one to read, but I’m sure my anger and resentment doesn’t help much.
Uncertain what I’m going to say, but more than sure of my intentions, I step up beside where he’s stood the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, as he watches the teams warm-up.
He doesn’t acknowledge I’m standing there and for some reason, I don’t expect him to.
“Your son is a good man, you know. Incredible, actually.”
He nods, but doesn’t say a word or look my way.
“He’s lived a life trying to make you proud, trying to make amends for fate’s cruel hand in the accident that injured Jonah that wasn’t Hunter’s fault to begin with. I understand your lives changed forever that day. I can’t imagine how angry you are over it, and I can’t imagine the pain and suffering you’ve all been through because of it . . . but while you lost the Jonah you knew that day, Hunter lost the parents he knew that day too.”