Page 96 of Pucking Forbidden

Hadley: I’ll see you there!

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: IRREPLACEABLE

HADLEY

The Night Hawks arena is quiet when I arrive. The main lobby is dimly lit, the overhead fluorescent lights turned off, leaving only the safety lights casting long, blue-toned shadows across the polished concrete floors. Walking down the tunnel toward the rink, my breath hitches.

Julian is already here.

He’s out on the ice alone, finishing up some extra drills. I stand behind the Plexiglas, entirely captivated. He is a force of nature. He moves with a terrifying, beautiful combination of speed and brute power. His large frame cuts through the ice, the sharp clack of his stick against a puck echoing like a gunshot in the empty arena. His long, dark curly hair is damp with sweat, loose tendrils that have fallen from his bun clinging to the nape of his neck, and his thick beard is frosted with a light layer of condensation from his breath.

He scores with a precise wrist shot that rattles the water bottle off the top of the net, and as he turns around to skate back toward the blue line, his eyes find me.

He stops dead on his skates.

The moment our eyes meet, everything from Vegas comes rushing back without either of us saying a single word. The memory of his heavy body pressed against mine, his rough, calloused hands gripping my hips, the low, gravelly sounds he made in my ear when he told me how beautiful I was…it all hits me like a physical wave.

I feel a hot, deep blush creep up my neck and flood my cheeks. I wrap my arms around my torso, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. Julian doesn't move for a long second. Then a lazy, wicked smirk spreads across his face. His brown eyes darken in a way that makes my knees feel like water.

He skates over to the bench, unlatching the gate and stepping off the ice onto the rubber flooring.

I walk over to him, my heart hammering against my ribs, and sit down on the wooden bench next to where his gear is laid out. The air around him is warm, radiating the heat of his workout.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to my core.

“Hey,” I whisper, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

He sits beside me, the bench creaking under his weight.

“I talked to Theo,” he tells me suddenly, his tone casual. His chest expands with a deep breath.

I blink, caught off guard. “Theo? When? What about?”

Julian looks at me and shrugs, his expression unreadable for a split second. “Before Vegas. I’ll admit, I was jealous of him at first. Guy’s young, talented…objectionably good-looking. When I saw you two together…I dunno. I thought you would be better off with someone like him.” He lets out a short, dry chuckle, shaking his head as he reaches for his other skate. “Then I found out he’s the one who gave you my jersey…and he kind of encouraged me to go for it with you. He’s not that bad of a guy, I guess.”

I watch him closely, reading between the lines. He’s playing it off as a joke, but I can see the tight set of his jaw and the slight tension in his broad shoulders.

Without caring about who might walk through the rink doors and see us, I reach out and wrap my hand around his. He freezes, his eyes snapping to our joined hands, then up to my face.

“Julian, you have to know that you are irreplaceable,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “To me, your friends, and to this team. Do you understand that? Don't ever sell yourself short. You have fought for every single thing you have, and you did it on your own. That makes you incredible, Julian. You need to trust in the people who care about you as much as you should trust in yourself.”

Julian stares at me, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. The raw emotion in his eyes is staggering.

“When they brought Theo onto the roster…I convinced myself that was it,” he admits, his dark eyes fixed on our joined hands, his knuckles turning white. “He’s younger. Faster. He’s got his whole career ahead of him. I figured management was just setting up the transition, finding my replacement before they put me out to pasture.” He lets out a ragged breath, his gaze lifting to meet mine, swimming with a raw, devastating vulnerability. “And honestly, Hadley? I thought about him with you, too. He doesn’t have a history like mine. He would be perfect for you.”

How often has he felt like he wasn't enough? How many times has he looked in the mirror and only seen a liability to the people he loves?

I want to lean in and press my lips against his, but this is not the place. We could be caught by anyone, including Grandpa. The risk is too high.

Julian pulls his hand back, clearing his throat and nodding once. “You should get your skates on, sweetheart.”

“Right,” I nod, feeling a little breathless as I stand up and walk over to my own bag.

We split the rink in half like always. I take the far end, near the Zamboni entrance, and he stays near the benches.

Gliding across the ice, I let the movement calm my frantic mind. I practice my transitions, my spins, and the edge-work that has been second nature to me since I was a kid.

I try to focus on what I’m doing, but Julian being so close is distracting. We can't keep our eyes off each other.