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When a devastating injury threatens the career of Terence Tiles, the superstar goalie for the Seattle Kraken, the foundation of the life he meticulously built over eight years crumbles. Overwhelmed, he retreats from...
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“Put them on.” She says. From the bench where I sit with my back bent and my face to the floor, I look up at her. She stands in her all black clothing with a pair of skates just my size in her glove covered hands.
“Ivy—”
“It's Miss Martins, and you have been nominated for the Vezina trophy, and better yet, it was your idea to hit the rink.”
My idea. Right. I don't know what I was thinking.
It's been three whole weeks since our scandal broke the hockey world. After the public break out, the team and Ivy took off to the airport and booked a fast flight back to Seattle. Home. Ivy was quiet on the entire flight, And only snuggled with me at night. She seemed to need some quiet in the midst of the chaos and I offered her that. I appreciate the fewer questions from my friends and players, but as much as the scandal was a shock to the entire hockey part of our world, what was even more shocking was my nomination for the Vezina.
The fucking Vezina. It has always been my end goal to win the trophy ever since I started tending goals, but I never got nominated,until now, when I hadn't played for eight months and still counting.
When we landed, I tried to be there for her,
“Need anything?”
“No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I'd rather kiss you, than engage in a worthless conversation.”
“Ivy—”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
We fell into a rhythm of sorts. It's not the way it sounds, although she's been hiding out at my house since everything happened. And it's been a blast. I remember landing at the airport in Seattle and the crowd of reporters who had nothing much to say about me, but a whole lot to say about her. Nick, Aaron, and Hudson became a human barricade from the plane to her ride. It was a brand-new version of hell.
Ivy’s presence at my place brought a strange sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. We’d wake up early, have breakfast together, binge watch shows on Netflix, finding solace in the quiet of my home. Evenings were our sanctuary—cooking dinner together, slow music sessions, and talking little about everything and nothing.
The day we landed in Seattle was etched into my memory. The second we stepped off the plane, we were met with a wall of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. They swarmed Ivy, their questions invasive and relentless. Nick, Aaron, and Hudson quickly flanked us, their broad shoulders and steely glares creating a protective shield. The airport turned into a battlefield, each step toward the exit feeling like a mile.
I remember Ivy’s hand gripping mine tightly, her knuckles stiff with tension. Despite the chaos, she kept her head down, leaning into me as we navigated the frenzy. It was surreal, like stepping into a nightmare where the noise and the lights never stopped.
