Jaxson
I remember the first time I had a major injury in hockey.
I was seventeen — which, all things considered, was pretty late. I knew plenty of kids who had teeth knocked out and bones broken well before that age. Hockey was a brutal sport, one that had the ability to humble you in a split second. But I’d been lucky. I’d fallen, sure. I’d had some cuts and bruises and sprains, but nothing serious.
When I was seventeen, playing in the WHL, my time ran up.
It happened so fast. I had just stolen the puck and shucked it down the ice to where our center waited for the pass. Then, I was hit hard from behind, and I went flying into the boards shoulder-first.
My collarbone snapped.
The shock of it hit me more than the pain at first, my body sending all the adrenaline rushing through me to help quell my suffering. It wasn’t until later when it wore off that I really felt the torture — not just of the break, but of the realization that I’d have to undergo surgery, that I’d be off the ice for months, and that my season was over.
It was the first time I realized something you loved could hurt you.
The memory of that feeling, of that specific type of affliction sat with me the entire drive from Canmore to Calgary on the morning of the thirty-first. My eyes burned from the late night, so much so that I hadn’t even attempted putting in contacts. I held onto Grace’s thigh just as tightly as the steering wheel, both of us silent, her face blotchy and red from crying the night before, and my heart firmly seated in my throat.
There was no rush of adrenaline to help me, no doctor who could patch me up and send me home with a rehab plan.
There was only agony — ripe and all-consuming.
We’d booked flights as close together as we could — hers for Grand Rapids, mine for Tampa. But mine still left an hour before hers did from a gate on the opposite side of the terminal, and I was cursing how fast the minutes passed, how quickly the moment was sneaking up where I’d have to walk away from her.
After I made a quick purchase of an extra suitcase for Grace to fit all her souvenirs in, we turned in the rental car and checked our luggage, holding hands as we made our way to security.
Like I’d predicted, it was busy.
Someone recognized me in the line, which led to a flurry of people wanting autographs and photographs. I internally groaned, biting back the urge to tell them all to fuck off while Grace pretended not to know me.
We were pros at it now. When someone recognized me, she got lost just in case some asshole decided to take a photo of us and post it.
I was so fucking pissed at the world, at the circumstances we were locked in.
I didn’t want to hide her.
I didn’t want to lose her.
She shot me a text that she would meet me in the lounge. I’d booked us first-class flights, and I knew at least in the lounge, we could exist in peace. So, I forced smile after stupid smile for photos until security helped me escape the throng.
By the time I made it and took a seat next to Grace, I was a bundle of anxious energy.
My foot bounced, hands wringing together where they hung between my knees, every breath harder than the last. I couldn’t get enough oxygen, couldn’t will my heart to steady.
Closing my eyes, I forced an inhale as slowly as I could and let it out just the same. Then, I reclined, putting my arm around Grace.
“I think we should do one last video, don’t you think?”
“That,” she said, digging into her carry-on. “Is an excellent idea.”
She was trying so fucking hard to keep it together. Her smile was bright, her emerald eyes shining as she looked over her shoulder. Then, she leaned into me, resting her head against my chest and holding her phone up so we were in the video frame.
“Today,” she started, letting out a long sigh before plastering her smile back in place. “I get to fly first class. I get to see my parents. And I get to say goodbye to one adventure and hello to the next.”
A heavy boot crushed down on my rib cage hearing her say those words. It was what I wanted for her — to move on — and yet it fucking shredded me.
“Tell me something good, Jaxson,” she said next, looking up at me before she found my eyes on the phone screen.
I swallowed, hooking my arm around her and pulling her into me even more. I opened my mouth to speak, but then paused, feeling how the emotion was strangling me.
God, I couldn’t remember a time in my life that I’d felt like this. Not when I was climbing into the car with my father after a game knowing he’d be screaming at me the whole way home, not when my college hockey team lost the one time we made it to the Frozen Four, not even when I played in my first NHL game and felt sick nearly the entire time.
There was nothing as raw as this.
I cleared my throat, shaking it off as best I could, and then I tipped Grace’s chin until she looked at me, until I was looking at her instead of the camera.
My eyes searched hers, scanning every inch of her face before I found her gaze once more. I took a mental photo and tucked it into the pocket of my heart to hold forever.
“I have had the best summer of my life with you, Grace Tanev,” I said, and every fucking word ripped at my throat on the way out.
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she smiled despite it, and then she leaned up to press a kiss to my lips with the camera still rolling.
We spent the next hour holding one another — Grace asking me would you rather questions that had us both laughing even as our hearts threatened to break out of our chests. I smoothed my thumb over her knuckles where I held her hand, soaked in every smile she threw my way, and tried my best to face the situation the way she was.
I reached for the positive, for all we had to be grateful for instead of all we were losing. But where that came naturally to Grace, it was like pulling teeth for me.
Flashes of the last month played like a movie reel in my mind. I saw every smile, heard every laugh, felt every tremble of her body beneath mine. And far before either of us were ready, time ran out.
I had a ten-minute walk to my gate, and my flight was about to start boarding.
I pushed it off as long as I could, and then when we had no other choice, we both stood, facing each other like nervous school kids. Grace’s cheeks were pink, her hair falling in front of her face as I hooked a hand on the back of my neck.
Then, I let out a shaky exhale, and I reached for her.
My hands wound around her waist, pulling her close as her arms stretched up around my neck. I dropped my forehead to hers, both of us closing our eyes and inhaling together.
And my body rioted.
My chest squeezed so painfully tight I let out a gasp of an exhale. My heart surged, thrashing in my rib cage as my stomach dropped. I felt the uneven pulsing of blood in my ears, felt how the agony ripped through me and demanded to be felt.
“Fuck, Grace,” I whispered, the words breaking us both. “I don’t want to do this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut with the admission, and with that, the tears I’d been fighting back broke free.
They seared a burning path down each of my cheeks, my chest stuttering with the sob I refused to let out. My father had beaten into me that men don’t cry — but fuck, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was shattering.
Grace wrapped me up tighter, and when I opened my eyes to look at her, she was shaking her head, shedding her own tears as she wiped mine from my face.
“Hey,” she said, sniffing on a smile. “This isn’t goodbye. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
I nodded, biting my lower lip and trying to feel that that was enough. Another tear slid down to my jaw where it met her thumb. She wiped it away as I cursed.
I was fucking crying.
I was fucking crying for this girl.
Had I ever cried, other than when I was a child?
The thought made me pause and feel just how significant that was. Then again, that seemed to be how everything was with Grace. I couldn’t remember ever having a hug before her, or laughing so hard my stomach hurt, or longing for something so badly I was willing to risk everything to have it — even if I couldn’t keep it.
“Go, go,” she said on a laugh, pressing her hands to my chest and pushing me away a few inches. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll be in Tampa for a game before we know it. And it was fun, right?” Her face twisted a bit with that, but she smoothed it out so quickly — an expert at her craft. “We had fun.”
“Yeah,” I said, sniffing. “Yeah, we had fun.”
Now I wanted to laugh — but not because it was funny. Because it was sick. It was a fucking joke to call what we’d shared fun, to give it such a simple, shallow label.
We stared at each other a moment more, and then she pushed me again, smiling as her eyebrows raised. “Go,” she said on a laugh. “Before you miss your flight.”
I grabbed my bag off the floor, slinging it over my shoulder and turning for the exit. I took four steps, but every one felt like I was walking in quicksand, like time was moving in slow motion. And I felt it again — my body rioting, refusing to work properly, refusing to let this be the end.
Suddenly, I halted.
I didn’t have a choice. My legs stopped moving, and I stood there with my back to Grace, heaving each breath that burned all the way down.
I shook my head, nose flaring as I dropped my bag to the floor and turned. I crossed the space between us in long strides, Grace’s chin wobbling as I did. She looked half surprised and half devastated when I ran back to her, and I swept her up in my arms, crushing my mouth to hers.
“You have to go,” she said against my lips, even as she clung to me, even as she kissed me hard like she never wanted to stop.
“I love you.”
The words ripped from my chest, loud and broken.
And they cracked her wide open.
She sobbed, fingers curling in my hair as I kissed her again and again.
“I know that’s selfish to say,” I said between them. “I know everything feels impossible and I have no fucking idea what comes next for us, Grace, but I do know that this isn’t over. I cannot — will not — leave you behind without you knowing that.”
She sobbed harder, and I ran my hands through her hair, framing her face until I could look her right in the eye.
“I love you,” I said again. “I didn’t know what it was to live before you came into my life. I didn’t know there could be joy like this, or adventure, or pain so fucking deep in my chest.”
I beat my fist against my rib cage, wincing as I confessed everything I’d shoved down.
“I didn’t know that I could be with you — every second of every day — and still want more.”
Grace nodded, like she understood, like she felt it, too.
“I don’t know what I can ask of you right now, and I don’t know what I can give you in return.” I let out a slow breath, my heart evening out now that I’d told her the truth. “All I know is that I need you to understand that I’m not walking away from you, from this, from us.” I shook my head. “Not now. Not ever.”
Her brows bent together, face warping as she nodded over and over and pulled me down for another long kiss.
I breathed her in. I ran my hands through her hair and behind her neck and down until I could crush her to me. I wanted to leave my mark with that kiss. I wanted to seal everything I’d just said with a promise so strong she could never question it.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
I inhaled her even more, beaming, every cell in my being rejoicing at what it felt like to hear her say it.
“We were never supposed to happen, and yet I love you still. I can’t tell you how many times over the last month I’ve wondered if the stars aligned for us. And I agree,” she added, sniffing. “I don’t know what happens next. But I know I’ll never let you go, Jaxson. You’ll always be a part of me.”
That elation I’d felt was still there, but a fist was crushing it like a soda can now.
Because her words sounded an awful lot like a goodbye.
An announcement interrupted us from the lounge speakers — a call for all passengers to board my flight.
“You have to go,” Grace said.
“Fuck.” I claimed her mouth again, and then she pressed against my chest, and I had no choice but to rip myself away from her.
I didn’t dare look back as I jogged to my bag, swiped it off the floor and raced for the exit. I ran and ran through the airport, feeling the pressure crushing my lungs all the way to my gate.
I made it just before they closed the doors.
I texted Grace as soon as I was in my seat, breath still coming hard and shallow. Then, I put on my headphones, pulled my hoodie up over my head, and replayed her words until they were branded into my memory.
She loved me, too.
I still didn’t know what would come next for us — if anything. But I’d told her the truth. I’d left nothing unsaid. I’d laid it all out on the line, and I knew now that she felt the same.
The plane took off, carrying me home.
But I left my heart with her.
