Page 12 of Love on Thin Ice

After lunch, we sit out on the porch, sipping hot cider and enjoying the crisp autumn air. Jack sits beside me, his arm draped over my shoulders, and I lean into him, feeling completely at home.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

I raise an eyebrow. “Another surprise?”

He grins, pulling out a small, non-jewelry box from his jacket pocket. “Open it.”

Inside are two season tickets to every Blue Ridge Buffaloes game this year. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him, my eyes wide.

“Jack, I?—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, soft and sweet. “I want you there. Every game. And I was thinking, maybe you could design a new jersey for every game this season. Just for me.”

My breath catches in my throat as I stare at him, my heart swelling with love. “You want me to wear your jersey to every game?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I want you to be a part of everything. My life. My career. All of it.”

And just like that, I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

Jack smiles, pulling me close. “I love you too, Poppy.”

8

The arena is electric tonight.The roar of the crowd hums through the air, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Blue Ridge Buffalo jerseys and tees in royal blue and dozens of sizes fill the stands, but mine? Mine is special.

Hand-sewn, custom-designed, and bedazzled to perfection, it’s Jack’s jersey, number nine, the captain’s “C” embroidered in shimmering gold thread on the front left side. I’m pressed up against the glass, my breath fogging up the surface, my fingers clutching the railing as I watch the love of my life skate across the ice like he owns it.

And tonight, he does.

It’s the final game of the season, and if the Buffaloes win, they take the division title and move on to the Stanley Cup playoffs for the first time in years. The stakes are high, but Jack? He’s cool and collected, like this is just another day on the ice.

I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck.

I can barely breathe as the clock winds down, the scoreboard locked in a tie, 2-2. The puck moves back and forth across the ice, players crashing into each other, the sound of sticks clashingechoing through the arena. My heart is in my throat, my hands trembling as I grip the railing tighter.

Jack, the center, intercepts a pass at center ice, his stick moving with lightning speed as he skates toward the goal. The crowd holds its breath, and I swear, time slows down. Everything fades away—the noise, the people, the pressure—until it’s just him. Jack. My Jack.

He passes to the left wing, a man named Chase Kingston, but Chase gets thrown against the boards across from me. I yell a protest with everyone else, and somehow Chase manages to flick the puck back to Jack.

He winds up, his body coiled like a spring, and then—bam!The puck flies through the air, a one-touch hit, slipping past the goalie’s outstretched glove and into the back of the net.

I scream so loud, I’m pretty sure I’m doing some permanent damage to my throat, but I don’t care. Jack’s teammates swarm him, their sticks clattering against the ice as they pile on top of him in celebration.

“The Buffaloes win!” the announcer screams through the mic. “They’ve done it! The Buffaloes are going to the Stanley Cup!”

Tears prick at my eyes as I watch Jack skate toward me, his helmet off, his hair damp with sweat. His blue eyes lock on mine, and even through the chaos, through the noise and the celebration, I see his pure love for me.

The moment he reaches the glass, he taps it with his stick, and I press my hand against it, our eyes meeting through the barrier. He grins, that crooked, charming smile that makes my heart do backflips, and I yell, “I love you!”

He nods, his grin widening, and then, without warning, he motions for me to come down onto the ice.

I blink, surprised, but before I can argue, one of the rink attendants is escorting me through a side door and onto theice. My boots slip slightly as I step out, but Jack is there in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around me, steadying me, pulling me close.

“What’s going on?” He’s never pulled me down onto the ice before.

Jack chuckles, but then his expression turns serious, his eyes soft as they search mine. My heart stutters in my chest.

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