Page 54 of Paxton

“So…if you were going to propose…”

“I wouldn’t wait,” she says with a shrug. “Elaborate proposals are cute and can be really thought out, but it’s the intention behind the act that matters. You want to be connected to this person forever. It’s a big step that doesn’t always need bells and whistles but instead brutal honesty.”

“That makes sense.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, a smile shaping her lips.

“Apologize,” I say. “That’s where I’ll start. The rest?” Anticipation fills my chest. “We’ll see. I have to hope he’ll forgive me first.”

“Paxton is a good man,” she says. “He’ll hear you out. Just be truthful.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ve got to head out. I miss you.”

“Miss you too,” she says. “Keep me posted!”

“Will do,” I say, then end the FaceTime with my mom still squealing with excitement.

I want to share in that elation, but I know I have to fix things first.

If I can do that…

Maybe the rest will be possible.

CHAPTER 19

PAXTON

I skatearound near the goal, shifting my position to skate backward as the Tampa Bay Lightning takes possession of the puck.

My focus is solely on the puck handlers heading toward me and Fender guarding the goal behind me.

I’ve put every ounce of my frustration into this game, earning a penalty in the first period that had me sitting out for two minutes. I’ve been more careful this period, and now the clock is about out.

We’re winning now, but if they score, we’ll go into a shoot-out.

I don’t want that.

I want to win. I want to control something in my world when it feels like it’s spinning out.

The Lightning cranks his stick back for a shot, but I swoop in, taking my opportunity to steal the puck, sliding it over to Lawson who takes off toward the opposite goal.

Satisfaction at a good steal does little to sooth my jagged insides, but I’ll take it.

Lawson takes the shot, the puck hitting the back of the net to secure us the win.

A brief flash of happiness blazes through me, quickly crushed by the hollow feeling I haven’t been able to shake since yesterday.

Since I realized Monroe, the love of my life, would never feel the same for me.

It hurts just as much now as it did when I walked into my house yesterday, and it still hurts even after Coach gives us a congratulatory speech. It hurts while I turn down my friends’ multiple pleas to go out and celebrate tonight.

Hurts as I walk into my hotel room, freshly showered as I collapse on the bed.

Part of me wishes I can go back and time and store that ring somewhere Monroe would never find it. Then this never would’ve happened because I never would’ve pushed her. We’d be out celebrating the win with our friends, sneaking a few kisses before we had to go back to our assigned rooms with our assigned partners. I bunked with Lawson, so at least I know I have a few hours of solitude to wallow in my grief.

A knock sounds on the door, and I groan as I shove off the bed. “Did you forget your key—” My words die as I find Monroe on the other side of the door, not Lawson.

She’s beautiful even though she looks as wrecked as I feel.

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