Page 74 of Blocked Shot
But what he really wants to say is:I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I love your sister. I’d never betray you—not really. Not in the ways that count.
But Jesse doesn’t want apologies.
He just wants space.
So Jake gives it to him.
CHAPTER 35
NATALIE
Just got here. Drive sucked. Good luck! Can’t wait to see you!
JAKE
Thanks baby. Can’t wait to see you. I missed you so much.
NATALIE
Natalie shifts in her seat, the cold plastic pressing against the backs of her thighs. The arena hums with anticipation, the scent of popcorn, sweat, and ice embracing her like an old friend. The Whalers skate through their warm-ups, the sharp scrape of their blades a steady rhythm in the background of the pumping rock music. Her eyes lock onto Jake, his long hair damp beneath his helmet, his movements sharp but careful. Four weeks of rehab, of waiting, of worrying, have led to this moment.
The buzzer sounds, and the teams gather at center ice for the opening faceoff. The puck drops, and the game explodes to life. Sticks clash against the ice, skates carve sharp paths as players chase the puck into the zone. The Whalers’ forwards are aggressive, pressing deep, but the opposing defense holds firm. Jake moves seamlessly, his passes crisp, his positioning smart. Natalie watches every shift,wincing when he takes a hit along the boards but exhaling when he shakes it off.
She grips the edge of her seat, knuckles pale. Even from up here, she sees the split-second hesitation before he throws his full weight into a hit. He shouldn’t be out there yet. But she knows better than to tell him that.
This is Natalie’s first time back in Hartford since everything fell apart. Jesse has barely spoken to her, ignoring her daily calls and texts. Last week, in a last-ditch effort to get through to him, she sent a meal service delivery to his place—something easy, something he couldn’t brush off. He left her on read.
Things with Jake aren’t much better. They try to talk or text every day, but now that he’s back to practicing and traveling with the team, their conversations are shorter, more strained.
As expected, he’s stepped back from mentoring Jesse, with Carter and Theo taking over. Between the two of them and Coach Barbier, they’ve managed to keep Jesse from spiraling further, making sure he shows up for team obligations. Slowly, he’s getting back on track. He’s still on Barbier’s shit list, but at least there’s progress.
Tonight Jesse is everywhere—darting through the neutral zone, digging for pucks in the corners. He’s all speed and bravado, reckless in a way that makes her throat tighten.
After the whistle, Natalie watches Jesse shove past an opponent, jaw set, lingering way too long in front of the goalie. He mutters something—she can’t tell what—but whatever it is, it earns him a death glare from a defenseman who looks twice his size and three times as mean.
Natalie’s stomach twists.Please don’t be an idiot,she thinks, leaning forward in her seat.
Jesse grins. And then he drops his gloves.
“Goddammit,” she mutters, panic prickling beneath her skin.
It’s a mistake, and he has to know it. Even before the first punch, it’s obvious Jesse’s out of his depth. The bigger guy grabs a fistful of his jersey, yanks him in like a ragdoll. Jesse throws a few wild punches—messy, desperate, mostly for show—but they barely make contact. He’s scrappy, sure, but he’s no match. Her heart climbs into her throat.
And then, in a blink, Jake is there.
He vaults over the boards and storms into the chaos like a man on a mission. The second he hits the ice, everything shifts. He moves with so much force, so much barely-leashed fury, that players instinctively clear out of his way. He shoves himself between Jesse and the other guy, pressing one hand protectively to Jesse’s chest, the other locking into the defenseman’s jersey like he’s daring him to try anything.
And just like that, the fight stops.
The bigger player hesitates, steps back.
But Jesse doesn’t. He’s too wound up. He swings and his fist cracks against Jake’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. The entire rink seems to hold its breath. Even the refs freeze for a split second, stunned.
Jake barely reacts. He blinks, his eyes narrowing as he stares Jesse down. Natalie sees the moment Jesse realizes what he’s done, the flicker of regret that crosses his face. But it’s too late. The refs are on them in an instant, whistles shrieking. Jake doesn’t fight them when they grab his arm, doesn’t argue when they wave him off the ice. A game misconduct for leaving the bench to join the fight. Just like that, he’s out of his first game back.
Head hanging low, Jesse skates to the penalty box to serve his penalty for instigating a fight.
Natalie exhales, but it doesn’t feel like relief. Her pulse hammers as Jake skates off, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. She watches him disappear down the tunnel, a thousand emotions warring in her chest.
