Page 78 of The Love Comeback
The admission hits me harder than I expected.
For years, I’ve carried the weight of that choice, the guilt of hurting Ella, the responsibility for our broken relationship. To hear them acknowledge their role in it feels like a burden lifting from my shoulders.
“We were just scared,” Mom confesses. “Your father and I struggled so much. We didn’t want that for you. We thought if you focused completely on hockey, you’d have the security we never did.”
“I understand that,” I say, my voice gentler now. “But you have to understand something, too. The way I felt about Ella then, the way I feel about her now—it’s not something I can just set aside. Ella and Colton mean the world to me.”
There’s a pause, and then my father clears his throat. “Well, then. It sounds like we’d better have Ella and Colton over for dinner soon.”
I blink, not sure I’ve heard him correctly. “What?”
“We want you to be happy, Kade,” Mom adds. “That’s all we’ve ever wanted. And to be clear, we like Ella a lot. Always have.”
The words wash over me like a balm, soothing wounds I didn’t realize were still open. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“We love you, son,” Dad says. “Just focus on getting better right now. The rest will sort itself out.”
After a few more minutes of conversation—focused on my recovery rather than my career—we hang up. I set the phone down on the bedside table, my head spinning.
For so long, I’ve been living with the ghost of my parents’ expectations, letting their fears and ambitions shape my choices. Even after I made it to the NHL, even after I achieved everything they’d dreamed for me, I still felt the weight of their influence in my decision-making.
But not anymore.
I stare up at the ceiling, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the pain pulsing through my head. The concussion has left me dizzy and nauseous, my vision still blurring around the edges. But my thoughts have never been clearer.
I love Ella Smart.
I’ve never stopped loving her.
And if there’s even the smallest chance that she loves me back—that those words I heard weren’t just a desperate plea in a moment of fear—then I’m going to fight for her. For us. For the future we should’ve had all along.
Chapter Thirty
Ella
The hospital corridors stretch endlessly before me, a maze of sterile white walls and squeaking linoleum. My heart hammers against my ribs as I weave through the early morning crowd—doctors with tired eyes, nurses carrying charts, family members of patients. Nothing matters more than getting to Kade.
The image of Kade’s still body on the ice keeps flashing through my mind, making my breath catch and my hands shake. I’ve spent years building walls and months convincing myself that I needed space, that loving him was too risky. But seeing him hurt, seeing him carried away on that stretcher—it shattered every carefully constructed defense.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, squeezing past a group of visitors huddled near a vending machine. My voice sounds strange to my own ears, thin and breathless.
The smell of antiseptic grows stronger as I near the elevators, mingling with the scent of industrial cleaning products and that indefinable hospital odor that always makes my stomach clench. I jab the up button repeatedly, as if that might make the elevator arrive faster.
When the doors finally slide open, I nearly collide with a doctor exiting, her white coat fluttering as she sidesteps me with practiced ease. I mumble an apology she doesn’t acknowledge and step inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor—the Trauma Unit. That’s what the woman at the information desk told me after I convinced her to give me Kade’s room number.
“He’s only allowed family visitors right now,” she told me, her eyes sympathetic but firm behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“I am family,” I’d lied, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. And in that moment, it felt true—as if my heart recognized what my brain is still catching up to.
The elevator ascends with agonizing slowness. I glance at my watch: 7:05 a.m. It’s been over ten hours since they took Kade away in the ambulance. Ten hours of messaging Nate for information. Ten hours of realizing just how much Kade Santos means to me.
Nate said visiting hours were at nine, but I couldn’t wait a minute longer. When Valerie offered to take Colton to schoolthis morning, I jumped at the opportunity, heading straight here as soon as she picked up Colton.
When the elevator doors open, I step out into another corridor, this one quieter than the main lobby. A nurses’ station stands at the center like a fortress, staffed by two people in scrubs who barely glance up as I approach.
“I’m looking for Kade Santos’s room,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Room 412.”
The male nurse looks up, his expression neutral. “Are you family?”
