Fated Shot

Chapter 31

Jack

“Can I get you folks anything else?” The kind, older waitress asks us as she clears away our plates.

“Just the bill, please,” I respond.

“You got it. All on one check?”

I reply, “Yes,” before either of them has a chance to object.Like mother like daughter, clearly, because they both look like they are waiting to stop me. I turn to them, sighing playfully.

“I would like to pay for our lunch. I've really appreciated spending this time together, and it would be my pleasure to do so. May I?” I direct it mostly at Bev, my only hope of preventing further objection from Mia.

“That is incredibly kind of you, Jack. Thank you,” she says with a kind smile, turning to Mia, who already looks exasperated.

At her mom’s glance, though, she drops her defenses, playfully rolling her eyes.

"He always pays, Mom.”

The moment it leaves her mouth, a cute little squeal escapes her. Whipping her head, she gives her mom a look as she rubs her leg under the table. She then proceeds to turn sweetly to me.

“Thank you, Jack.” And just when I thought there’d be no further sass, “For paying yet again” comes out with a playful smirk. There’s my girl.

The more comfortable she is, the feistier she gets. I love it when she lets her guard down and is exactly who she needs to be. There’s no more need to build a barrier or withhold any of her feelings. I can’t get enough of her; I don’t think I ever will.

After we send her mom off in an Uber, we decide to walk back to Parkside Place. We’re making our way down the street when she, as naturally as anything, reaches for my hand. Intertwining her fingers with mine, she continues the conversation as we walk.

It’s like I’m the sad, little, lost puppy at the shelter who just found his forever home. The way my heart accelerates at such a simple gesture does not bode well for my cardiovascular health and extending my career, but this has just become the norm around her. It’s so symbolic how she so effortlessly shows me exactly what life is like together, exactly how to be. I get to be with her, she is choosing me.

I smile down at her vibrant aura, dark blonde curls bouncing with every step, eyes alight with every ounce of joy and passion that radiates through her. She is the epitome of sunshine in human form. All I ever want is to make her happy and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her.

“Can I show you something?” she asks so sweetly, but with a bit of uncertainty in her voice that causes a pang in my chest. Everything she does excites me. I don’t want her to ever feel like she needs to be hesitant. She could show me a pebble at this point, and I’m confident I’d still be amazed.

“Lead the way, Wyndham,” I say as she pulls my hand further down the street, walking—actually bobbing along—until we reach the spot I’d been wondering if she’d take us past.

A half step ahead of me, she comes to a screeching halt, face dropping immediately. I scan our surroundings anxiously for the culprit of her disappointment. I’ll destroy anything that gets in the way of what she wants.

The white brick building in front of us features a large glass window, allowing a clear view of the pristine stainless steel kitchen within. The black Kitchen Collective logo is stamped on it and hanging just below is a red ‘leased’ sign.

“It’s—” her voice cuts out. “Um, I guess someone took the spot. I was going to show you—the—” she starts to point toward the building before her hand falls, her head following to drop to the ground.

“I thought I’d have more time to decide…” She looks up at me, heartbreak swimming in her eyes.

“I—um, wouldn’t worry about that,” I say, not reassuringly at all.

Fuck, I’m bad at this. She looks like she’s going to cry. I don’t want her to fucking cry.

She takes an intentional breath.

“Y-you’re right, it wasn’t meant to be, I guess,” she says, but her eyes stayed glued to the kitchen space within.

This is not how this was supposed to go. Just tell her.

“That’s not what I meant.” She turns to me, head tilting slightly in confusion. “I kinda got it for you.”

“W-what?” Her eyes look into my soul imploringly.

The moment it leaves my mouth, I feel a pit in my stomach. Who even does that? FUCK.

This isn’t some stupid rom-com; this is real life. ‘Girls like grand gestures,’ Penn’s voice radiates through my head. Why the fuck do I keep taking advice from a twenty-three-year-old?

“I just thought, um, maybe it’d make you happy.”

“You leased the space for me?” Disbelief still painting her stunning face.

“Yeahhh,” I pause for a moment. “I’m sorry, this was weird, right? I just remember how much you wanted it, and—God, I don’t know how to do this kind of thing. You don’t have to use it, I can just—”

Her rib-crushing hug cuts the words off before I can finish. I’ll never say no to wrapping my arms around her as I run my hands through her hair, pulling her closer to my chest. I’m sure she can feel my heart beating, it’s becoming more and more clear she’s the only one it may ever beat like this for.

“I don’t deserve you,” comes out broken, a whisper on my chest from my beautiful girl. Her eyes lift to meet mine, deep green beneath the tears pooling, on the brink of slipping down her cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.” My thumb catches a single drop, swiping it away under her eye.

“Why did you do this?”

“I don’t know, Mia. I know you weren’t ready to believe in yourself, but I believe in you. I know you can continue to grow Cookie and Co. and I want you to.”

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” She sniffles, turning back to admire her soon-to-be space. “I’m not going to let you pay the rent though, you know.”

I can’t say I’m surprised, she wants to do this on her own. She’s so capable, she just needed a little push in the right direction.

I smile and shake my head. “I know.”

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

I catch a glimpse of us from the window reflection. It’s so surreal to be standing next to each other, hand in hand. I want to freeze this moment.

I know damn well why I did it.

I love her.

***

There are eight minutes left in the third period, and we’re narrowly hanging onto our 2-1 lead against the Boston Blades.

It’s been a fucking shit show, and both of our teams are getting sloppier. We’re more evenly matched this year. Same level of talent, same drive, same grit. It’s always weird playing your old team, but you’d be surprised how fast you move on. Sure, I miss some of my buddies, but we all have a job to do, and the moment we step on the ice, none of that matters. You’re laser-focused on the win and the team on your back. I’m on the Tundra now and I’ll go down fighting for my team.

The Blades have been getting more aggressive. After a stopped breakaway from Kyle Durant, one of their new centers, the puck has been stuck in our zone. We’re scrambling, I can feel it. The moment John Daley intercepts a messy pass and gets it out of our zone, I take my opportunity for a change, bolting over to the bench. I got caught out there for less than a minute, but I’m already so gassed.

The moment I slunk down on the bench, joined shortly after by Max, I could feel the energy shift in the arena. I feel like I say this every year, but the fans are more amped than usual. Our powerhouse trio is on the offense, and everyone in the crowd perks up, ready for the big moves they’ve come to expect this season from the boys.

Penn had already made a beauty of an assist in the first period, but I know he’s dying for a goal. I watch as they surge forward, applying steady pressure in the offensive zone. The Blades’ defense is typically strong, but they didn’t have time for a change, and they’re scrambling to keep up with the relentless pace.

I watch as Theo weaves through defenders, setting up a perfect opportunity for a clean pass to Penn. One of their defensemen, growing increasingly physical, plows into him, causing Theo to circle back instead. He sends it down the ice toward the boards to avoid the Blades taking possession of the puck.

Penn skates after it, chasing it down just as he reaches the corner behind the Blades’ net. He’s looking down, eyes locked on the puck at his feet, without even noticing he’s about to be met by Brett Maddox, the Blades’ bruising defenseman known for his aggressive style.

It’s like the play is moving in slow motion, I can’t help but feel the extra bit of tension as I watch on. Maddox has been shadowing Penn all night, and this time he sees an opportunity. I’m hyper-focused, seeing this second by second, trying to do something to will Penn to look fucking up. He’s gonna get killed out there.

The only one seemingly not inching forward is Maddox, who instead is barreling like a bull. He comes in hard, delivering a crushing hit that sends Penn’s head ricocheting into the glass before he drops to the ice.

The sound of the collision echoes through the arena, followed by a moment of eerie silence as Penn’s body falls. He lands at such a freak angle that his helmet flies off, head smacking to the ice with a sickening thud as his body slides into the boards.

Get up, Penn.

The nausea hits me before the panic.

Why the fuck isn’t he getting up?

Two officials rush over, frantically blowing their whistles to stop the play.

The horror on Maddox’s face as he notices the lack of movement from Penn is enough to send me into a spiral. It was technically a clean hit, but that does nothing to stop everything that I’m feeling right now.

There’s a ripping in my chest as I stand to my feet in an instant to try to get a better view. I’m struggling to get oxygen into my lungs as everyone on the ice circles around his body.

The trainers from both teams make it onto the ice before I can do anything more. It’s a helpless feeling just waiting. I’m sick to my stomach, simultaneously fever hot and pneumonia frozen, like my body can’t remember how to self-regulate. There’s a larger crowd around him now, making it even harder to see what’s going on.

I watch as Scott gets the closest, dropping down on one knee beside his body. It’s fucking bad news, I know it is.

Less than thirty seconds later, three medics shuffle onto the ice as well, this time bringing out a stretcher. They load him on it and through the commotion on the ice, I can see some movement finally coming from the ground. The jumbotron is panning to the scene now too as four of them lift him up.

Both sets of fans are on their feet, giving a standing ovation as they wheel him off the ice. All the boys and the Blades players are slapping their sticks on the boards and ice.

The camera pans again to Penn, a small smile on his face as it zooms in on his hand, giving the crowd a thumbs up.

Fuck, man.

I’m finally able to take my first real breath in two minutes. The oxygen gives a reprieve to the burning in my lungs, but it’s the hollowness inside my chest that I can’t shake.

I had one job. Protect Penn, and I fucking failed him.