Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two Last Night

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LAST NIGHT

SKYLER

It’s my last day in Denver, and the weight of it is pressing down on me as I sit next to Grace in the stands of the hockey rink, watching the Night Hawks practice. The familiar sounds of skates slicing across the ice and the thud of the puck hitting sticks echo through the arena. It’s a bittersweet feeling being here, knowing I’ll be gone tomorrow and won’t be able to experience this anymore.

"I’m really going to miss this," I say quietly, glancing over at Grace. She’s sitting back, relaxed, her attention half on the players and half on me. "And I’m going to miss hanging out with you, and with the guys."

Grace raising an eyebrow. "You’re not leaving forever, you know. You’ll come to visit. You have to! But first, you’ve got to go back to show off your game and show those buttholes you work with just how talented you are."

I smile at that. "Yeah, I do."

I’ve spent so much time perfecting that thing, tweaking every little detail, making sure it’s the best it can be. It’s been a crazy, exhausting process. When I think about what I’ve accomplished, I feel a swell of pride .

"I think it’s finally ready," I say, more to myself than to Grace. "I’ve made all the changes my boss wanted, but I was careful not to get rid of my personal touches either."

Grace turns to face me fully, her expression serious now.

"Good," she says firmly. "Because I meant what I said before. No job is worth losing your happiness or self-worth over. You can do amazing things without sacrificing who you are in the process."

Her words hit me harder than I expect, and I nod slowly, taking them in. Grace has always had this way of cutting through all the noise, of reminding me what’s really important.

"I’m going to miss you like hell," I say.

Grace’s face softens, and she pulls me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me tightly.

"I’m going to miss you too," she murmurs.

I hug her back, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness settling in my chest.

After practice, Grace leads me down to the locker room, which is buzzing with energy, and I’m caught off guard when I walk in and see a cake sitting on the center table with the words We’ll Miss You, Skyler! written in icing. I freeze for a second, the surprise making my heart squeeze. The entire team is gathered around, chatting and laughing. They turn toward me as soon as I step into the room.

Grace is the first to rush over, grinning from ear to ear. “Surprise!”

I blink, trying to process it all. “You guys! You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course we did,” Cruz says, clapping me on the back. “You’re an honorary Night Hawk, whether you like it or not!”

I laugh, feeling a strange mix of emotions bubbling up inside me — gratitude, sadness, maybe even a little disbelief. It’s just cake, but it feels like so much more. Like a final acknowledgment that I’m not an outsider but I’ve been accepted into this tight-knit family.

“Come on, let’s dig in,” Zander says, grabbing a knife and cutting into the cake. As everyone gathers around, the room fills with light chatter and laughter, and I find myself talking with different team members, taking it all in. The guys are telling me stories, reminiscing about the season, and I realize how much I’ve come to care about this group.

Cruz stands next to me, his expression a little more serious than usual.

“Hey, Skyler, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says, his voice lower. “I’m taking the next year off, so this probably really is goodbye for us. I won’t be here, if you come visit.”

I frown, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “My dad’s sick. Cancer. I’m heading back to Canada to take care of him.”

My heart drops, and I place a hand on his arm. “Oh Cruz, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs, a tired smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s been tough, but I need to be there for him. Hockey can wait. Family comes first, you know?”

I nod, understanding completely. “Of course. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Thanks,” he says, looking genuinely appreciative. “You take care of yourself, alright? I expect to see you killing it in California.”

I smile. “I’ll do my best.”

As Cruz steps away, Zander catches my attention, making his way over to me with a slice of cake in hand.

“Hey, I meant to mention this earlier,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Do you remember I told you about my cousin who works at Lumina Interactive? She told me they had to let someone go, and I gave her your info. Thought you might be interested in an interview.”

I blink, stunned. Part of me lights up at the idea — working for Lumina would be a dream — but just as quickly, I push the thought away.

“Zander, thank you,” I say, genuinely touched by his gesture. “But I’m happy at Code Kickers. I’ve worked hard there, and I’m really looking forward to seeing where this project takes me.”

Zander raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Yeah, but Lumina’s the kind of place where you could really do your thing, Skyler. You know that.”

He’s not wrong, and a part of me does want to jump at the chance, but I’ve always wanted to work at Code Kickers, and I’ve worked too hard and too long to give up now.

I offer Zander a smile. “I appreciate it. Really, but I’m staying put. For now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, shrugging before he grins. “But keep it in the back of your mind. Who knows what could happen?”

As he walks away, Grace slides up next to me, nudging me with her elbow. “Having fun?”

I grin at her. “How long did Jensen have to blow Coach to get him to allow this?”

Grace laughs. “Oh, not too long. Turns out Coach kind of likes you. Weird, right?”

“I'm genuinely shocked,” I chuckle.

We fall into a comfortable silence for several moments before she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and asks, “Guess what?”

“What? ”

“I got Stacey in touch with the team’s physical therapist. She’s got an interview next week for her internship.”

“That’s amazing!” I say. “You know when people say, ‘I know a guy?’ You are officially that guy.”

Grace winks at me. “Play your cards right, and I’ll hook you up with some Devil’s lettuce and courtside seats for the Nuggets.”

I snort, cake nearly coming out of my nose. We talk for a bit longer, but as we do, I become painfully aware of Carson. He’s here, standing at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He hasn’t said a word to me and has been keeping his distance since I walked in. It’s like there’s this wall between us that I can’t break through.

It stings, more than I want to admit. Part of me wonders if he’s avoiding me because I leave tomorrow and have been so busy with my game that I haven’t spent as much time with him the last few days.

Maybe I’ve been avoiding him because it’s too hard to say goodbye. I quickly shake my head, banishing the thought away. I try not to let it get to me, focusing instead on the team, on Grace, on everything that’s happening around me. But the ache in my chest lingers, making me wonder if leaving Denver is going to feel more final than I expected.

That night Grace and Jensen insist on taking me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. They invite Carson to come along as well. The restaurant is sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Denver skyline.

It’s the kind of place where you’d expect to see business dinners or anniversary celebrations — fancy enough to make me feel slightly out of place, but not so extravagant that it feels uncomfortable. Grace and I are wearing dresses — I had to borrow mine from her — and the guys are in dress pants and button-down shirts. Not super fancy, but I’d definitely be underdressed in my usual jeans and t-shirt.

The lighting is warm and soft, casting a golden glow over the polished wood tables and leather chairs. The walls are adorned with abstract art, adding a splash of color in the otherwise minimalist decor. We’re seated near a window, giving us the perfect view, but I can’t fully appreciate it. My focus keeps drifting to Carson, who’s sitting across from me but feels miles away. He’s been quiet all evening, distant even. It's unsettling.

The restaurant should feel intimate, like a nice send-off before I leave, but instead, there’s this awkward tension hanging between us that I can’t quite shake. I sip my wine, the rich taste barely registering as I try to make sense of his odd behavior. The evening’s supposed to be a celebration, but something feels off, and it’s hard to enjoy the ambiance when I’m on edge, wondering what’s going on with him.