Page 30 of Much Ado About Hockey

Maybe she’d been waiting, hidden, just out of view to set him on edge - making him sweat it out. He didn’t even realize he was praying until he caught himself whispering beneath his breath. Not for luck, not for wins, but for her… a sign, a text, a call.

Anything.

“Mr. Acton?”

The voice jolted him. He sat up sharply, his heart racing like he’d been caught in some nightmarish dream, running from his demons. A rush of panic flaring in his chest like a fire he couldn’t smother…

“No,” Jett blurted out in a rush to the flight attendant.

This was the third time the woman had stopped by to let him know they were preparing for takeoff - and each time he’d begged for a little more time.

“Ten more minutes - please. I’m not ready to go yet.”

“You have a guest, sir,” the flight attendant said, her voice tight with uncertainty as she wrung her hands together in front of her navy uniform. Her gaze flicked to the open door then back to him. “There’s a woman out there claiming to be your wife and asking to board. I thought you mentioned you were flying alone. Is this incorrect?”

Jett blinked, trying to comprehend the words even though his heart had already dropped to his shoes.

“Apparently so - and I don’t remember saying that,” he replied, his voice hoarse and uneven, cracking with the weight of a very sleepless night and too many unanswered text messages. He cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance, and tried to summon that calm, collected demeanor he’d mastered when it came to every other part of his life… but not with her.

Not with Karen.

Karen was killing him - slowly, painfully, in that way that only someone who truly knew you could. By waiting. By not calling. By making him feel like an afterthought. And now, by showing up at the very last second, when he’d almost convinced himself to shut the door on ‘hope’.

He should have told the flight attendant ‘no’…

He could have made some sarcastic comment to shield the ache clawing inside of him - but it all crumbled and fell away the moment Karen stepped into view.

She looked like a vision, like some dream from one of his deepest fantasies… soft, familiar, and beautiful in a way that stole the air from his lungs. White slacks that hugged her hips, a pale pink blouse tied neatly at her neck with a bow that made his hands twitch, curling into fists just so he didn’t tug at it, wanting to untie it. That blouse had no right to stir up so many strong feelings inside of him.

But it did.

She did things to him by simply existing.

“Hello,” she said, her voice gentle, almost tentative before she moved past him without hesitation and took a seat as far from him as the tiny plane’s cabin allowed. It only seated eight, but with her sitting six or eight feet away, it felt like she was an entire world out of reach. She looked straight ahead like he wasn’t utterly shattered on the inside. “I got stuck in traffic.”

The casualness of it - like they were fine… like the past few days of silence hadn’t happened. It rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He swallowed hard, trying to match her light tone even though he could barely think straight.

“Did you park the Kia - and do I need to get a transport to pick it up?” he asked, gripping the edge of his tablet case a little too tightly. His words felt stiff, mechanical. Like they were all he had to keep from blurting out the truth:I’ve missed you. I’m angry you ignored me. I’m confused. I’m scared we are not going to be okay…

Karen shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and fumbling awkwardly for the seatbelt. “I took your advice and got rid of it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers worked at the clasp with growing frustration, her brow furrowing. “Am I missing something with this thing?”

He was already unbuckling, moving toward her before he thought it through, stepping across the narrow aisle as the plane’s door sealed behind them with a hiss. The cabin quieted around them as the engines powered up, and the air grew heavy with anticipation. Reaching down, he caught the loose ends of the belt and clicked it securely into place with a muted snap.

It was an easy fix.

But nothing about this felt easy between them.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and impossibly dark… and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Her expression was so open, so raw, it nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The words hit him harder than he expected.I’m sorry… but for what, exactly? For the silence? For not calling? For walking away? Or just because you needed help with the belt?In those seconds, his eyes holding hers, he realized he didn’t care really.

She was here.

She was here, ready to start a life in Quebec - with him.

Nothing else mattered.

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