The Hockey Captain Wants His Plus-Size Ex Back Chapter 09
For one second, the arena did not understand what had happened.
Then everyone started shouting at once.
Easton was on the ice, one arm braced under him, trying to get up. Cole stood a few feet away, breathing hard, eyes wild behind his visor.
The referee blew the whistle.
The coach screamed Cole’s name.
I ran before anyone could stop me.
By the time I reached the boards, Easton was already sitting up. Blood marked his lip, and his shoulder looked wrong, but his eyes found me immediately.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve bled before.”
“Easton.”
That made him almost smile.
The medic helped him to the bench. Cole was still arguing with the referee, insisting it was an accident. But the replay flashed across the Jumbotron, and no one believed him.
He had aimed for Easton.
Cole was ejected from the game.
The crowd booed as he skated off. He looked confused by it, like applause had always been his birthright and he did not understand how quickly people could change.
Without Cole, Lakeview played better.
Easton returned in the third period despite the medic’s warning. I hated him for it until he scored twice in six minutes.
Lakeview won.
Easton was named MVP.
The arena roared his name this time, not Cole’s.
I stood at the edge of the rink with the squad, shaking pom-poms and trying not to cry from relief. Easton skated toward me as soon as the final buzzer sounded.
Then the Kiss Cam lit up.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
The screen found us.
Easton on the ice, helmet under one arm, blood still at the corner of his mouth.
Me in my captain’s uniform, hair half-fallen from its ribbon, heart beating too fast.
The crowd exploded.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Easton looked at me, asking without words.
I leaned over the boards.
He pulled himself up just enough to meet me halfway.
The kiss was nothing like the one Cole had given Vanessa months ago.
This one was not a performance.
It was a promise.
When Easton pulled back, the arena was still screaming. He looked almost annoyed by the noise, which made me laugh.
Then he dropped to one knee on the ice.
My laughter died.
The entire arena fell into stunned silence.
Easton reached into his glove and took out a small velvet box.
“Mia Hart,” he said, his voice carrying through the microphone someone had shoved too close. “I don’t want to wait until graduation to tell everyone what I already know.”
My hands flew to my mouth.
“I have loved you longer than you know,” he said. “I loved you when you thought no one saw you. I loved you when you were trying to disappear. I love you now, when you finally look like you belong to yourself.”
The first tear fell before I could stop it.
“So marry me,” he said. “Not because you need saving. Because I want to spend my life watching you choose yourself, and still choose me.”
I nodded before he finished.
“Yes.”
The arena went wild.
Easton slid the ring onto my finger and kissed me again, smiling against my mouth this time.
Then Cole came over the boards.
He had been on the bench after the ejection, still in partial gear, face pale and twisted. Two assistant coaches tried to stop him, but he shoved past them.
“No,” he shouted. “No. She’s my girlfriend.”
The arena quieted in patches.
Cole pointed at me. “Mia, stop it. You’re mine. Tell them.”
Easton moved in front of me.
Cole laughed, broken and furious. “You think he loves you? I loved you first.”
I looked at him.
“No,” I said into the microphone still near us. “You used me first.”
The words carried.
Cole froze.
Security reached him then.
He fought them.
“She’s mine!” he shouted as they dragged him back. “She was mine for five years!”
Phones were up everywhere.
This time, the viral video was not of me crying.
It was of Cole Mercer screaming on championship ice while I stood beside Easton wearing his ring.
The next morning, the athletic department ordered a drug test.
Cole failed.