Page 112 of Pucking Forbidden

Theo lets out a bright, genuine laugh, shaking his head. “Julian, I’m gay.”

The words hang in the air for a second. I blink, my brain stalling out as comprehension hits me. All those weeks of simmering jealousy, the territorial anger, the stupid, childish anxiety of him stealing her away. Totally pointless. I feel like an absolute, world-class idiot.

“You’re…'”

“Yeah,” Theo says, smiling this time. “And Hadley knows. So trust me when I say this, man, there’s no one else for her but you. She loves you, man. You’re the only guy she sees.”

I let out a breathless laugh, rubbing a hand over my face as I groan. “Jesus Christ, Theo. I’m an ass.”

“A massive one,” he agrees cheerfully, standing up and reaching for his stick. “Now, since you’re stuck here until our flight tomorrow morning and you’re clearly about to lose your mind, let’s do something useful. Get your skates back on. Come out to the ice for a private session and train me on some of those defensive positioning tricks you used against Dallas.”

I look at him, surprised. “You want extra ice time?”

“I want to get better,” Theo states. “And you’re the best teacher on this roster, Julian. Honestly, you’d make an incredible coach yourself someday. You see the game better than anyone else.”

The corners of my mouth twitch, his statement causing a spark of…something inside me. For the next hour, I lose myself in the drills, pushing Theo hard, his comment about Hadley lingering in my thoughts.

“Hey,” I say during a water break, leaning against the boards. “I need to do something big when I get back tomorrow. To apologize. Any advice?”

Theo takes a long swig from his water bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove. He thinks about it for a second, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Honestly? Anything that gets her to just loosen up and relax,” Theo says at last. “Hadley is amazing, but she’s very much a planner. She’s always in focus mode twenty-four-seven, even when she’s doing things she actually enjoys like ice skating or studying.”

That’s a good point. If I want to show her that she can trust me, I need to take the wheel. I need to plan a day where she doesn't have to think, doesn't have to organize, and doesn't have to worry about what comes next. A day of pure, unstructured adventure where she can just breathe.

As I skate back out to the center ice to finish the drill with Theo, a plan begins to form in my mind.

Mrs. Clay told me that great things are worth fighting for. Hadley is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m done sitting back and letting the fear of my past dictate my future. I’m going to win her back. Whatever it takes.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: AFTERMATH

HADLEY

The silence inside Carson’s spare apartment is suffocating. I’ve been finding it hard to breathe for the last six days.

How could Julian keep something like this from me? A trade that would take him to a different city and state? That would take him away from me? Acting like we were together, when the whole time he was contemplating leaving. I can’t decide if I’m more hurt or furious at him for it.

By the time Saturday morning finally rolls around, the anger that spiked in my chest outside the physical therapy offices has settled into an aching bruise beneath my ribs. I’m still not fully over the fight, and I’m still furious that Julian kept something so massive from me, but…I miss him.

I haven’t responded to any of his text messages, but I’ve re-read them enough times to memorize them. However, I couldn’t keep my hurt and confusion bottled up. Two nights ago, I finally broke down on the living room rug. I confided the whole messy situation to Lainey.

“Hadley, he’s an idiot,” she’d said softly, her gaze sympathetic as she looked at me from my phone screen. “He didn't tell you because he was terrified of losing you, not because he didn't care. Forgive him.”

I want to…and I know I eventually will, but…it just hurts.

With the knowledge that the team gets back this morning, a part of me wants nothing more than to leave and wait outside of Julian's apartment, just to see him. I know I told him I needed space. I know I'm still mad and haven't reached back out, but I would also give anything just to see him.

I'm considering doing just that when the apartment’s buzzer sounds at nine in the morning. My stomach does a violent, anxious flip. It has to be him. I press the release, my fingers trembling against the intercom, and walk over to open the door before there’s even a knock.

Julian is standing in the hallway, and the sheer scale of him fills the doorframe. He looks exhausted. There are dark, bruised shadows under his eyes from a week of hard travel. His beard and hair are wilder than usual, looking a bit unkempt. He’s wearing a heavy black Carhartt jacket and clean jeans, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.

For a long, agonizing second, neither of us breathes.

“Hey,” he rumbles at last, his voice rough.

“Hey,” I whisper.

Julian steps into the apartment, setting the coffee cups down on the kitchen counter with slow movements. He turns around, arms opening, and I know he wants to hold me. Still, he hesitates, gauging my reaction. When I step into him instead of pulling away, he wraps himself around me in a tight embrace.