Page 169 of Lose You Twice

That has always been the thing about watching him play. He doesn’t just skate. He directs, reads, adjusts. He sees the ice like it’s already unfolding before everyone else gets there. I used to watch him in high school and think, He’s going to leave all of this behind one day.

Back then, I thought that meant me too.

Tonight, when he wins a faceoff cleanly and sends the puck to Grayson, I let myself take in the moment. The sound of the crowd, the cool bite of air, my hands tucked into my sleeves.

With two minutes left and the score tied, Weston draws a penalty. He looks entirely too proud of himself as he skates to the bench, and I can tell Asher yells something from the net by the way Weston turns around and blows him a kiss.

PCU sets up on the power play.

The puck moves fast. Point to wing, back down low. Kai circles once, taps his stick, takes the pass, and releases the shot before the goalie can square up.

The lamp lights.

The student section loses its mind.

So do I.

Kai gets swallowed by his teammates, Weston practically climbing him while Grayson laughs and drags them both toward the bench. Through the glass, through the noise, Kai looks over at me and smiles. A real smile that I can feel all the way to my toes.

I can’t help but smile back.

PCU wins 3–2, and the locker room afterward is pure chaos. Weston is even louder than normal as I make quick work of everything I need to do.

Kai is busy with Coach and the guys, but every few minutes, I feel his attention cut through the noise and find me.

By the time Donnelly catches me checking the clock, I’m wound so tight I almost drop the laundry bag.

All the players have cleared out, and I’m putting the last load of laundry into the washer for the night. Everything else is back in its place, restocked and ready for the next practice.

“I can handle swapping this if you want to head out,” he says, taking a seat on the bench close to the laundry cart.

I shake my head. “I’m not quite done yet.”

He chuckles. “I said I can handle it, Calloway. Go enjoy your night.”

Normally, I’d argue that I needed every last minute I could get, but tonight is different. I have someone very important waiting for me to finish up.

“Thank you,” I say, grabbing my stuff and heading toward the bathrooms.

I send Kai a text letting him know I’ll be done in five.

Trying to fix your hair under fluorescent lights is impossible, and I just hope it looks a little less crazy without the extra lights. I made the right call on the black jeans; they worked for the game and definitely work for a date, too. I pair them with a fitted aqua blue sweater, redo my lip gloss, and stop looking in the mirror before I find something new to worry about.

Kai is waiting by his truck when I step outside.

Holding flowers.

I stop walking.

They’re wrapped in brown paper, blue and white with tiny yellow ones tucked between them. Butterflies erupt in my chest, and I can’t help but smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear as I make my way toward him.

Kai looks almost nervous holding them, which is adorable. He just scored the game-winning goal. He took a hit in the second period and got up like it was nothing, yet standing there with flowers in his hand, he looks like my reaction matters more than all of that.

“You got me flowers,” I say.

“Yeah.” His thumb rubs once along the paper. “Too much?”

“No.” I take them carefully. “I love them. Thank you.”