Lena's View:
I sat beside Mr. Carter, the man who had been a constant in my life for as long as I could remember. His enthusiasm about the art above the rink, something I had always taken for granted, now felt different. He spoke with such pride, his voice reverberating with a depth of emotion I hadn't realized before.
"I never really understood it until now," he said, his gaze on the mural above us. "But knowing the story behind it, the history... it makes it all the more meaningful. And I'm proud that Ethan was a part of it."
I smiled, not sure if it was the pride in his voice or the warmth in his words, but it made my heart swell. He was proud of Ethan, of the team, of everything they had been through together, and it was a beautiful thing to witness. I could see it now, how deeply it mattered to him—how deeply it mattered to both of them.
Just as we were talking, the boys began to pour out from the locker rooms, their jerseys glowing under the rink lights. But Ethan was missing.
The moment dragged on, the seconds feeling like hours. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I looked toward the door, hoping for a glimpse of him. Then, finally, there he was. My dad was standing in the doorway, his eyes scanning the team, his expression unreadable, until the last boy made his way out, and Ethan stepped onto the ice.
The sight of him, that moment, felt like everything stopped. He looked different, somehow. Maybe it was the way the light caught his face, or the way he moved, but there was something undeniably powerful about him in that moment. The way his eyes searched the rink, first finding my dad, then sweeping across the stands, and finally, landing on me.
And then he smiled.
The world felt like it shifted, like a weight lifted. His smile was wide and open, as if all the barriers we'd built between us had come crumbling down. It was a smile of recognition, of hope, of connection, and my heart raced as I saw it. He was back. Really back.
It wasn't just the game. It was something more. He was fighting for something bigger now. And in that moment, I realized I was fighting with him. Whatever happened next, whatever came next, I would be there. I would stand beside him, as he had done for me so many times before.
Ethan's dad, standing beside me, caught my eye and gave me a nod, his grin widening. It felt like something had finally clicked, like we were all on the same page at last, after all this time. I could feel the weight of everything we had both been carrying lighten, if only for a moment.
Ethan, my Ethan, was back. And that, in itself, was all I needed.
As the game began, the energy in the rink shifted, electric and filled with anticipation. We all found our seats, my eyes still catching glimpses of Ethan as he skated across the ice, his focus sharper than I'd ever seen it. Mr. Carter leaned forward beside me, his voice low but filled with enthusiasm.
"You see that group over there?" He pointed to a small cluster of men sitting by the rink, all of them dressed in suits, their eyes sharp and calculating as they watched the game unfold. "Those are the scouts. They're here for a reason."
I followed his gaze, the realization sinking in. These weren't just fans in the stands; these were the people who could change everything for the team, for Ethan. There was a palpable tension in the air as I wondered if Ethan knew they were watching him. Did he feel the weight of their gaze, the expectation hanging heavy?
Mr. Carter turned to me with a knowing look. "We've got a deal, Lena. Keep an eye on them, see if they're impressed." His smile was almost conspiratorial, a silent pact between us.
I nodded, my heart racing as I tried to focus on the game, but I kept coming back to those scouts. The pressure was mounting, and I could only imagine what was going through Ethan's mind out there.
The game was wild, a back-and-forth battle with both teams pushing themselves to their limits. The crowd was on edge, their cheers and groans filling the air as every pass, every shot, seemed to matter more than the last. The energy on the ice mirrored that, fast and frenetic, a whirlwind of movement that was almost too much to process.
Then, in the final minute, it happened. The score was tied, both teams fighting for the winning goal. Time seemed to stretch, slowing to a crawl as the seconds ticked down. I could feel the tension in my chest, my breath caught in my throat, as the puck made its way across the ice.
Ethan had it. He had the puck.
In that moment, everything seemed to fall silent, the world narrowing down to just him, the ice, and the goal ahead. His face was set, determined, as he sped toward the net. The weight of the game was on his shoulders, but he didn't hesitate.
It was like everything else had disappeared. The scouts, the crowd, the other players—none of it mattered in that frozen moment. All that mattered was the puck and Ethan's steady hands guiding it toward victory.
Ethan's eyes never left the goal as he closed in, his movements sharp, controlled—like everything around him had blurred and all that mattered was the puck and the net. In that instant, the world felt impossibly still, the crowd holding its breath, the sound of skates on the ice fading into the background.
Then, with a swift motion, Ethan released the puck.
It flew through the air, a perfect arc that seemed to defy time, and before anyone could blink, it slammed into the back of the net with a resounding thwack. The horn blared, signaling the end of the game, and the rink erupted into chaos.
I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. Around me, the crowd was on their feet, cheering, shouting, the noise deafening. I could barely hear myself think over the roar of excitement. Mr. Carter stood beside me, his grin wide, his eyes gleaming with pride.
"That's my boy!" he yelled, thumping me on the back. But it didn't feel like a celebration for just Ethan's win—it felt like a victory for all of us. For the team, for the journey, for everything we had been through to get to this point.
Ethan skated around the rink, his teammates mobbing him in celebration, but my eyes were only on him. His smile was wide, full of pure joy, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. For the first time, I saw him not as the boy who was always running from something, but as the man who had finally stepped into his own, fully alive and ready to take on whatever came next.
Mr. Carter turned to me, his voice full of awe. "That's the moment, Lena. That's the one they'll remember."
And in that moment, I knew he was right. Ethan had just done something extraordinary. He had taken control of his future, his fate, and he had seized it. The scouts would remember that shot. They'd remember him.
And I'd remember this moment forever. The feeling of standing here, of seeing him find his place in the world, of knowing he was finally back—not just for the game, but for everything that had been waiting for him beyond it.
Mr. Carter and I moved toward my dad, who was still standing near the rink, watching his team. The energy in the air was electric, thick with celebration, but there was something else beneath it—something deeper. Mr. Carter's enthusiasm was almost tangible as he reached out to shake my dad's hand, his smile wide and genuine.
"You trained them so well!" Mr. Carter said, his voice warm with respect as he clapped my dad on the shoulder. There was an undeniable pride in his tone, and I could tell it meant a lot to my dad, more than he was letting on.
My dad took Mr. Carter's hand firmly, his face softening in appreciation. "Ethan's shot was amazing today," he said, the pride in his voice no longer masked by the usual stoic expression he wore. "He's got a spark back. It's like he's found something he lost along the way."
Mr. Carter nodded thoughtfully, watching the boys who were still celebrating on the ice. "I think we can thank your daughter for that," he said with a knowing smile, turning his gaze to me.
My dad looked at me, and for a moment, everything else around us faded into the background. His smile grew, and it wasn't just the smile of a proud coach or father—it was the smile of someone who had seen something impossible become real.
I could feel my chest swell with emotion, the weight of everything I had done, everything I had hoped for, washing over me in one overwhelming rush. It wasn't just the game. It was everything that had led up to this moment—the struggles, the silence, the distance, and finally, the connection. The realization that this was the turning point, that Ethan had come back, and so had my dad. Together, they had made it through, and somehow, so had I.
Before I could say anything, Mr. Carter's voice pulled me back from my thoughts. "Lena," he said, his tone quieter now, "you've done something incredible. Ethan may have scored the winning shot, but it was you who brought him back."
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing, and nodded. I couldn't speak for a moment, the emotions swirling too fast for me to capture them in words. I wasn't sure how to thank Mr. Carter, how to explain how much his belief in me meant, or how much I had wished for this day.
Just then, the locker room doors opened, and the boys poured out, their laughter and loud chatter filling the rink. But there was a buzz of energy surrounding Ethan, something different about him today. He was walking with his teammates, but his posture was different—more confident, more assured. His eyes locked onto mine before he even reached us, and I saw it immediately. The smile on his face was pure. Not the guarded one I had seen before, but one of raw, honest joy.
chapter 27 for you guys!!
I hope you guys like it and if you did leave a vote, thank you so much for the support
much love and til I see you again v<3