Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
But she asked for space, and I’m giving it to her, even if it’s killing me in the process.
“Still nothing?” Atlas asks, sliding onto the bench beside me and taping his stick.
“Nope.”
“She saw it. She had to see it.”
“I think so,” I murmur, pulling on my gloves, the motion automatic now. “But I don’t know what that means yet.”
Foster walks by with his helmet under one arm. “She’s not the kind of woman who ghosts. She’s probably just taking it all in.”
Kace chimes in from across the room. “Bro, I’ve seen some of the stitches coming through under the #BeKindLikeWinnie tag. We’ve got schoolteachers in Iowa talking about anti-bullying clubs. Some little girl made a puppet show.”
Anders yells from the far side, “My sister posted one of our clips to her Facebook and her PTA shared it. We’re basically viral in suburbia.”
That gets a laugh from the whole room—even me. For a second, the tension in my chest eases. This campaign… it’s more than a gesture. It’s become something real. Something good.
But still…
I want to see her.
“All right, ladies.” Coach West claps once. “Warm-ups. Let’s get out there and show this home crowd what we’re made of.”
I push off the bench, slap Penn on the back, and follow the rest of the guys down the tunnel.
The second we hit the ice, the roar of the crowd swells. It’s a packed house tonight, the loudest fans in force. There are signs waving and the kids press their faces to the glass to watch the warm-ups, hoping to get a stray puck tossed to them.
I skate a few laps, trying to dial in. I take a few passes, the puck hitting my stick like an extension of my hand. I’m loose, focused, running on muscle memory—but my eyes keep drifting to the stands.
Not looking for anything in particular.
Just… hoping.
And then, I see it.
I don’t register it at first—a cluster of fans near where the tunnel and glass meet. But there’s one fan, one sign that has my full attention. My breath stalls in my chest.
Winnie.
Her hair’s in a cute ponytail, lips shiny with gloss. And held high above her head, pressed to the glass, is a hand-painted sign: “Still Average. Still Yours. #BeKindLikeWinnie”
I can’t move for a second. I stand frozen like a dumbass, taking her in. Our eyes lock and I see the apology on her face, even though it’s not needed and I’ll wipe it off.
I break into a full-on grin and raise my glove, pointing right at her. She waves back—hesitant, a little teary, but beaming.
Skating toward the tunnel, I watch as Winnie winds her way past other fans to meet me. I motion for security and they help guide her through. We meet at the low glass opening by the players’ entrance. I skate to the edge, rip off my gloves, and reach out a hand.
She takes it.
I help her over the short barrier and onto the bench-level walkway.
And just like that, she’s here in front of me.
I cup her face, my thumb brushing along her cheek. “You came.”
Her eyes shimmer, full of emotion. “I saw it all. The TikTok. The comments. The team. The sign…” She laughs softly, a little shaky. “I’ve never felt more seen. Or more protected. You’re my hero.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” I admit to her, a rare moment of vulnerability.
“You didn’t.” She leans into me, voice low and steady. “You saved me.”
And God, if I don’t kiss her right then, I might combust. I pull her close and press my lips to hers—slow and reverent. The crowd around us reacts in waves. I barely hear it.
All I know is her.
When we finally break apart, I say the only thing I’ve wanted to say for days.
“I love you, Winnie. I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
Her lips tremble, but her eyes are fierce. “I love you too. I don’t care how loud the noise gets. How can I possibly be scared when you’re by my side?”
I exhale shakily, pulling her in for a hug, my forehead resting against hers. “Always.”
An idea strikes and I don’t know if she’ll be up for it, but I want to prove her detractors wrong. “Let’s do a TikTok.”
I watch her carefully, but I don’t see any hesitation. “About what?”
“One more video and it will be our last word regarding us as a couple. Then tomorrow, you go back to making average-girl videos and I’ll focus on dance trends.”
Winnie’s eyes shine, her lips tipped in amusement. “All right. I’m game.”
She pulls out her phone and we squeeze in close so our faces are in the frame. She hits record.
“Hey, TikTok,” I say, smiling wide. “In case you were wondering how it all ends…”
Winnie grins beside me, eyes bright with happy tears.
“It ends with love. And snacks. But mostly love.”