Page 95 of Fault Line

My heart swells with gratitude, and I feel like this might be a turning point for us. A chance to show Holden that I’m here for him, that I’m finally ready to go full-in.

* * *

I arrivein Hanford a few hours before their first game starts—a small town with quaint charm, surrounded by miles of empty countryside. Then I book a room at the Harmony, a hotel just a couple of blocks from the Hawkes’ ice rink, wanting to give Holden his space in case he still needs it.

My stomach is officially twisted up like a pretzel. I’ve never been to a hockey game before, let alone an away game—one that takes place miles and miles away from our home rink at Coastal.

As the game time approaches, I slip into my loaner jersey and head toward the rink, taking slow breaths to calm my nerves. I know this is the right thing to do, but I’m still slightly terrified about Holden’s reaction.

The rink’s bustling with energy when I arrive, fans from both teams clad in their respective colors, eagerly chatting about the upcoming match. I make my way to the stands, filing into the sparse student section.

There aren’t many die-hard Coastal fans that will make the trek all the way out to Hanford, but there are still a few students scattered amongst family members and other close friends.

As the teams take to the ice for their warm-ups, my eyes search for Holden. When I spot the number on his back, a rush of warmth floods through me, despite the chilly bite in the air. He’s focused, gliding effortlessly on the ice, every movement filled with grace and power.

I’m so impressed by him—his skill, his athleticism, his dedication to the team. All of it makes me so fucking proud, and it also makes me wish I had been here for him from the start.

The game starts with a burst of wild energy, and I cheer loudly for Holden and his team, my eyes glued to the rink. I don’t even really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but I can feel the adrenaline all around me, the excitement coursing through each of the players.

As the first period progresses, I know Holden’s in top form. He skates with precision and determination, his eyes locked on the puck as he maneuvers around the opposing players.

About halfway through the game, during an intermission between periods, Rai points me out in the stands. I watch, shaking in my boots, as Holden’s gaze follows his friend’s finger. And when our eyes finally meet, I can see the happiness that overwhelms him in spades.

A broad, genuine smile lights up his face, and it melts the ice inside my chest. He skates right up to the glass that separates us and waves enthusiastically, brown eyes sparkling.

I wave back, my cheeks burning as I return his smile. The joy I see on his face is contagious, and a wave of optimism floods through me. Before he heads out to the locker room, he mouths, “That’s my girl,” and my heart swells.

The rest of the game is a whirlwind of action, my eyes never leaving Holden as he leads his team. He has all the confidence and skill of a true captain, and it’s sexy as hell to watch him out there, dominating on the ice.

As the game reaches its final moments, the score is tied, and the atmosphere in the rink is charged with tension. Every person in the stands holds their breath, anticipating the outcome.

Coastal gains possession of the puck, and with a burst of speed, they launch into a well-executed attack. Holden, at the center of it all, glides across the ice with grace. He weaves through the opposing players, his eyes locked on the goal. And as he approaches the net, he expertly maneuvers the puck, feinting left before quickly switching to the right.

The goalie’s caught off guard, and in a flash, Holden takes his shot.

The puck soars through the air, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The small crowd around me erupts into thunderous cheers, and I can’t resist joining in, my heart brimming with pride and admiration for my guy.

As the final buzzer sounds and the players celebrate their hard-fought victory, I know that I made the right decision in coming to Hanford.

* * *

After the game,I wait outside the locker room, fidgeting nervously as I anticipate our first real interaction since last weekend. The thought of facing him now—and finally having our talk—fills me with apprehension.

The door to the locker room finally opens, and Holden emerges, still clad in his gear, his golden hair damp from exertion. When he sees me, his face lights up, and he walks over to me with purpose.

“Karras,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “Who would’ve thought I’d find you roughing it in Hanford.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, lips curling into a smile. “I’m willing to make exceptions for you.”

“Well, I’m honored.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to say, it’s a nice surprise to see you here.”

“I figured someone needed to keep an eye on you this weekend, make sure you didn’t get too full of yourself after winning another game.”

He laughs, eyes sparking with interest. “Oh, so you’re just here to keep me grounded, huh?”

“Among other things,” I tease, raising a brow.

He smirks and leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I scored that last goal for you, baby. I hope you were paying attention.”

---