Five Years Later
Tuesday, December 20th, 2021

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New York was arctic.

Living in Northern California for the last five years gradually morphed me into a proper winter angel. However, the cold weather of the San Francisco Bay was nothing in comparison to the painful chill of the city that never sleeps. My numb cheeks were tinted pink from the bleak air, my dry lips needed to be dunked in a bucket of vaseline, and my rattling bones demanded to be cushioned with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Despite it all, I was exceedingly thrilled to be in this magical city.

Midtown Manhattan on that Tuesday afternoon exuded the hustle and bustle of cinematic New York life. The streets were filled with cars, a vast array of people hurriedly strolled the sidewalks, and of course, the comforting aroma of Dunkin Doughnuts coffee wafted from every corner. Visiting the city was a bi-yearly thing, but doing so during the Holidays, became my favorite tradition.

"Do you want me to walk you in, baby?"

I shifted my attention from the glass-paneled edifice looming before me, to the handsome man holding my hand. The classically styled dark hair atop his head contrasted with the messy stubble sprinkled across his sharp jawline. He beamed graciously at me, his smile filled with the sunshine that New York currently lacked.

"No thank you, Ethan," I squeezed his hand. "You know how Berkley and I get. Also, I don't want you to be late for lunch with your teammates."

"As you wish my love," Ethan leaned in to kiss my cheek, the prickly stubble tickling my skin. "Call me if you need anything. I will see both you and Berkley at the game."

"Later," I waved goodbye to the man I loved as he unlinked our fingers and turned on his heel.

I watched him navigate the city for a moment before being stopped by a group of young kids in hockey jerseys. Their elated shrills echoed in my ears, causing me to giggle. Ethan proceeded to take goofy selfies with his fans as I left the adorable scene.

The warm air of Hearst Tower comforted my entire soul the moment I stepped into the headquarters of my best friend's big-girl job. I took the escalators up to the grandiose landing where I was met with many fashion forward individuals. Heels clacked against the tiled floors, and silk ties were pinned to button up dress shirts. It was very The-Devil-Wears Prada-esque, minus Meryl Streep gracing us with her goddess-like presence.

In the midst of businesswomen, journalists, and other influential pupils, was a slender individual with hip-length locks. Tousled waves with blonde highlights, and an iced coffee in her hand, was a woman I've missed dearly. With a mischievous grin plastered across my face, I slowly approached my best friend. I theatrically snuck up behind her, and with a growl I poked her sides. An earsplitting scream reverberated against the walls and windows, while Berkley's body jumped several yards away from my madness.

"Damnit, Karebear!"

I couldn't stop laughing, as I keeled over and pointed at my frightened friend. She shot me a scowl, marching back towards me as the people around us watched in amusement.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," I admitted in between bouts of hysterical laughter. My stomach cinched from sharp pain as I attempted to ease up on the excitement.

"You're lucky I only see you a couple of times a year, so I'm going to let that slide," Berkley's narrowed eyebrows relaxed, and soon her frown lifted into a large grin.

"I missed you so freaking much!" I pulled Berkley into a tight hug, and I fell into a state of ultimate comfort— the type of warmth only cultivated by a best friend. "You look so good."

"Me? Girl!" Berkley separated from our embrace, holding me out at arms length. "Look at yourself! It seems to me like Hot Shot Herrera is treating you like the queen you are. Are those the new Saint Laurent boots?"

"Yes," I groaned with an eye roll. "You know how I feel about my Chuck Taylors, but Ethan is Ethan. How could I deny a pair of luxury boots when he was so damn excited to surprise me with them?"

"I wish I could complain about a sexy man surprising me with $2000 boots," Berkley teased. "Speaking of a shit-ton of money, let me see it. Whip it out girl."

I let out a heavy exhale, knowing exactly what she meant. It was all anyone really wanted to talk about. I didn't think a diamond would be that big of a deal, but when I saw my face on the cover of a tabloid magazine, I was instantly reminded of who I was set to marry in the next year.

"Damn mama," Berkley gasped, taking my left hand and examining the large, shiny rock decorating my dainty finger.

"I know it's a little gaudy for my taste, but I appreciate it," I commented. Berkley began to lead me from the lobby, towards a corridor of elevators.

"How do you feel about marrying thee Ethan Herrera?" Berkley asked, gazing at me with seriousness. Her best friend senses were crackling like popcorn and I knew she caught onto something.

I sighed, "I love him, if that's what you're asking."

"Okay but," she began, the elevator doors sliding open, "you love a lot of things, Karris."

We waited for the two people in the lift to filter out before Berkley and I entered. She pressed the circular button on the wall, and when the doors glided back together, we were off to the sixth floor.

"You love your parents, you love hot cocoa, you love singing Disney songs, you love alpacas, you love me," Berkley grinned crazily and I chuckled. "You love hockey and you love watching Mikey's vlogs before bed. But being in love, that's a whole different book entirely."

Cosmopolitan magazine took up the entire sixth floor of the building. Its pristine office space was chic, with splashes of bright colors. Fashionistas of every shape, size, and color meandered through the expanse of the publication's main headquarters.

"Miss Ramos, you received a package. I put it on your desk."

The young man with amazingly sculpted brows politely smiled at Berkley from behind a white desk. He wore a red bow tie, embellishing the Star Wars sweater vest adorning his body.

"Kevin, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Berkley," my best friend laughed. "I might be big boss, but I can't do half the things I do and manage my time without your awesome organizational skills."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"All is forgiven my young Padawan," Berkley nodded her head. "Also, meet my best friend Karris."

"It's an honor Miss Villanueva," Kevin scooted away from his desk, to round the piece of furniture. He bowed in my direction, before taking my hand to shake. "Congratulations on your recent engagement."

"Thank you Kevin," I smiled at the young intern, who reminded me a lot of Berkley who once was in his place five years ago.

I followed my best friend into her private office with a floor to ceiling glass door. She swung the barricade open, and I walked into the chic space. Immediately, I took a gander out the window, a perfect frame displaying all of Manhattan before me.

"So what's new with Cosmo Latina?" I asked, turning over my shoulder to look at Berkley. She sat at her heavy duty desk, going through some emails.

"Well, since the announcement of your recent engagement, we actually want to do a small feature on your fiancé," Berkley informed.

"Wait, really?" I walked over to the white couch with plush cushions, and plopped down.

"Ethan's half Mexican," Berkley declared with a shrug. "He's young, sexy, he has a meme trending on social media, and he's on his way to becoming one of the best players the LA Kings has ever had since Wayne Gretzky."

Meeting Ethan wasn't supposed to happen. Two years ago, I planned on spending New Years Eve in New York with Berkley, but last minute she decided to go home. So while she spent time with family in Arden Heights, I did the same with mine. But being the daughter of a man who founded one of the greatest phone apps of my generation, meant snagging an invitation to a celebration on a yacht.

Ethan was my first real relationship since Ashton. He was easy in a sense of our dynamic being non-argumentative. We complimented each other well because we were so much alike. The dimpled, curly headed boy who once held onto my heart, always kept me on my toes unlike Ethan who was predictable. However, that constant was what I needed in my whirlwind of a life.

"Have you figured out what you want to do with your career issues, yet?" Berkley asked. She paused her rapid finger strides across the keyboard to spin around in her chair.

"Kind of," I shrugged, as Berkley opened up her mini fridge. "Not really. I feel like I'm stuck, you know. I followed the path I set out for myself, got an amazing job, and yet it wasn't enough. I felt so unfulfilled there."

"Now answer me this," Berkley handed me a cold bottle of coconut water, giving me her full attention. "Do you feel more fulfilled as a waitress, than as an assistant aircraft designer?"

I contemplated her question, mulling over every possible thought I've had since quitting my full time job. I made good money, I had benefits, there was room for me to grow, and I was doing something with my college degree. Yet, there was this missing void in me; a hole in my chest that couldn't be filled by a big paycheck.

I woke up everyday at 7:30AM, ate breakfast, got ready, and drove to the office. I spent eight hours in front of a computer before going home to cook dinner, shower, and sleep before the routine restarted. I did everything I was meant to do, and yet, I felt unhappy.

So I quit.

"I can't say if I feel more fulfilled as a waitress, but I do love seeing others happy," I expressed. "I mean, I don't do much but refill coffee mugs and take orders, but I do find pleasure in helping people."

"You find pleasure in seeing others succeed," Berkley added with a supportive smile. "You did a lot of that in high school, when you were an assistant coach. You took this rogue team of hockey players who were lost without Gabe, and turned them into a fucking dream team. Maybe, that's what you're destined for... to be part of something where you can guide others to succeed."

Seeing my best friend sit at her desk, inside her very own office of one of the leading publications, put things into perspective. Both she and I were very ambitious people. We pushed each another to reach our full potential; to exceed our limitations. She reached her goals, and still soared towards bigger dreams.

And then there was me.

I made minimum wage plus tips. I had to move back home with my parents, and now I was wedged in this career limbo. It sucked— and it sucked more to see friends and people I knew in high school reaching all their goals. They were moving mountains while I was moving plates, and I had no damn idea of what I wanted to do with my life. Every day I woke up was just another opportunity to look into the mirror, and see nothing but utter disappointment.

"Hey Karris. Will tonight be the first time you've seen Ash since..." Berkley's curiosity interrupted my thoughts.

I continued to rest on her couch, but gazed at the wall next to me. Nailed to it, was a framed photograph from the afterparty of Willowridge's epic championship win. The entire hockey team crowded close together, Ashton's arm wrapped securely around my waist. Berkley, Mollie, Natalia, and Tegan all held ruptured confetti canons, as it rained colorful pieces of shining paper. Michael sat on Calum's shoulders, and Luke held Ashton in a playful headlock, as he happily stared into the camera's lens with his gleaming blue eyes.

I guessed Berkley caught me staring intently at the sweet memory, because when I looked at the successful woman sitting at the desk, she no longer was there. Instead, Berkley was perched next to me on her office couch.

"When was the last time you saw Ash?" Berkley asked. I switched my attention, and looked at my best friend with a heavy heart.

"Two years ago," I solitary tear unexpectedly dribbled from my eye and I quickly swiped it away with the back of my hand. "At Luke's funeral."

Berkley wasted not another moment before grabbing my shoulders to pull me into a hug. We buried ourselves in each other, buffering our gloomy hearts from the searing pain that plagued us during this time of the year. Christmas was supposed to evoke happiness and warmth, but ever since that dreadful day, the holiday season elicited only heartache.

"I miss him so much," Berkley breathed as I rubbed her back. "I'm so proud of that fuckboy."

"He's a real hero," I stated, pulling away. "That little girl is alive because of him."

"I'm just glad we get to celebrate his life tonight."

"Me too."

Every corner from 6th Avenue and West 34th Street beyond, brimmed with hockey enthusiasts. It was a massive sea of blue and red, as Berkley and I made our way to Madison Square Garden. Among the Rangers fans, were a select few decked out in Silver and Black. I held my coat tight to my body, attempting to shield my weak skin from the frigid New York air.

"That's right girl, hide that LA Kings jersey," Berkley teased, a smug expression painted on her face. I shot her an unamused look, my eyes trailing up to the New York Rangers beanie atop her head.

"You know, I don't have to let you sit in the private suite with all the free food and alcohol," I warned, an incredulous grin tugging onto my lips.

"I'm just pointing out that you're on my turf now," Berkley held her hands up in defense. "Just because you're engaged to a King, doesn't mean shit on the ice."

I laughed, shaking my head before linking my arm with hers. Entering the busy arena was hectic, especially when people began to notice who I was. During my brother's trial, being in the limelight became an unfortunate norm, but after a few months and everything smoothed over, finding my name in the local papers ceased to exist. Then my engagement to Ethan Hot Shot Herrera happened, and once again, people knew my name for reasons other than my intellect.

"If I knew this many people would be taking your photo, I would've taken the time to reapply mascara," Berkley joked, as we navigated our way through the mass of people.

"I need a drink," I quipped. "A strong one."

My desire to drown my senses with hard liquor would soon be fulfilled when I was met with a thick, velvet curtain. Two security guards stood in front of the swaying barricade as Berkley and I approached the hospitality suite. Brandishing our laminates towards the hefty guards, they examined the credentials before allowing us to pass through.

"Enjoy ladies," one smiled.

"And Miss Villanueva," the other captured my attention before I could fully walk through the threshold. "Congrats on the engagement."

I forced a tight-lipped smile, "thank you."

When the curtain shut behind us, I let out an exhale before making a b-line straight for the private bar of the suite. We had our own exclusive booth with two tiers of cushioned seats showcasing perfect view of the rink. But the best part of this luxury, was the mini buffet of food, and the overflow of margaritas at my fingertips.

"Karris!"

I turned over my shoulder to see a young woman strolling straight for me with a wide grin painted across her face. She held the hand of an adorable toddler, as the other arm swung open. I quickly passed a tip towards the bartender before grabbing the glass cup filled with my poison of choice.

"Leanne," I reciprocated her embrace, and enjoyed the sweet smell of her lavender perfume. "I haven't seen you in so long. I didn't know you'd be here today."

"Dillion's from Manhattan so we thought it'd be easier to spend Christmas with his family this year," she explained. I nodded, suddenly remembering the Kings goalie originally hailing from New York.

Leanne's brown eyes slowly trailed to my left hand, and I knew excitement was imminent. As waited for her to freak out, I took a sip of the strawberry margarita and relished in the fruity, yet alcoholically strong beverage.

"Oh my God! That ring looks so good on you! Congratulations. Soon you'll be officially inducted into to the hockey wives club," she laughed animatedly. I could only respond with another nod of my head, and very large gulp of my sweet libation.

Leanne's enthusiasm only garnered the attention of the other friends and family hanging out in the suite, and it wasn't long till I was surrounded by a bombardment of questions. Thankfully, I had a margarita in my hand to keep me at bay, but when the interrogation grew into something more aggressive, that's when my best friend came in for the rescue.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies," Berkley stepped in, her right hand holding onto a plate filled with food. "Let's let Karris breath. She's had a long day of traveling from California and now she just wants to watch her fiancé play."

Berkley's words seemed to ease the stimulation electrifying the suite, and the hockey wives backed away. They returned to their seats, allowing me to relax. I gazed at Berkley who sent me an apologetic smile.

"They have mini quiches," she softly declared, pushing the ceramic plate in her hand towards me.

I couldn't help the smile forming on my face and accepted her offer. I grabbed one of the small egg-filled tarts and stuffed it in my mouth.

"'Atta girl," Berkley rubbed my back in support. "Don't forget, your personal life is your personal life. Just because you're engaged to a nationally known hockey player, means jack shit. It doesn't give anyone a reason to think they have an authority over your life."

"Coming from an award-winning journalist who writes about people's personal lives," I challenged with a smirk.

"Exposés," Berkley clarified. "I write inspiring exposés that depicts a different side to the ones most media publications show. It's always with permission, though. But as a journalist, that still doesn't mean famous people owe me a personal look into their lives."

"I appreciate you so much," I hugged my girl, blessed to be enveloped by her positivity.

Grabbing another tequila infused drink, I joined Berkley in one of the seats. Her winter gear was already removed, and I squinted my eyes in wonder as I stared the Rangers jersey her thin body drowned in. Noticing my stare, she looked back at me mid-bite.

"Do you some?" She brandished the handmade taco in her hand towards me.

"Number 7," I raised a brow. "You're wearing Ashton's jersey."

"Of course," Berkley shimmied. "I still support our dear old friend. Especially since he's playing for New York, and I consider this wonderful state my home now."

I sipped my drink, sat back, and dropped the topic. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Forbid my bestie from showing support towards a boy she still deems a friend? Both Berkley and Ashton were New York natives now, and of course they kept in touch. I wasn't jealous or hurt by that fact at all. What pinched my heart however, were the memories that continued to haunt me, because there was once a time when Ashton and I used to be each other's everything.

Maybe that's why being engaged to Ethan terrified me rather than made me proud. Maybe that's why seeing these hockey wives didn't give me something exciting to look forward to, and instead motivated me to run in the other direction. You see, when Ashton and I broke up, it was a mutual decision. But just because we both agreed to give each other the best life possible, didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Karris! Berkley!"

I snapped my attention from the rink a few stories bellow me, to the echoing shouts filling my ears. In between the rambunctious screams of the hockey fans, were a set of voices directed towards Berkley and I.

"Is someone calling us?" Berkley pondered out loud, darting her focus in attempt to discover the source.

"Over here!" The yelling continued, as I stood on my feet.

I peered over the railing, searching for the voice. Berkley did the same, until I felt her tap my shoulder. I looked at her, and she only head nodded towards something on my right side. I followed her eyes, and found myself grinning at the most magnificent scene. In a private suite, two over, were Michael and Calum waving their arms in the air with a chaotic flair.

"Oh my god! What the hell?!" I beamed happily, waving back at the dynamic duo.

"Get the fuck over here!" Michael coerced. His bright red hair shined beneath the artificial lights and in his hand was a point and shoot camera, its lens pointed straight for me.

"Come on, Karebear," Berkley grabbed my arm and tugged me away from our seats.

Filled with elation, the two of us ran out of our private suite, and almost ransacked into the body guards. Giggles flew out our mouths as we approached another set of velvet curtains. Two different security guards eyed us down, and right before I could open my mouth to explain, Michael's head peeped through the thick, black fabric.

"They're with us," Michael announced. He snatched my arm, while I held onto Berkley's, and the three of us created a human chain into the exclusive booth.

"They're alive!"

"The darling duo!"

"Holy shit, they got sexy!"

Berkley and I were encircled with a veil of absolute delight. My body was tugged in all directions, as I fell into a perpetual flow of hugs. I didn't mind though, because Thunderbird embraces were always my favorite.

"I thought we weren't going to see each other till later," I hugged Calum again, who stood there looking bulky as fuck. He was muscular, tanned, and his messy black hair stood in all directions beneath the backwards Rangers snapback.

"Ashton surprised us all with a private viewing balcony for tonight's game," Calum explained, gesturing for the large, lavish suite we stood in.

"If you saw my previous vlog, I showed you historical Snapchat posts from high school. The star in a lot of those social media posts was this girl right here," Michael wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders and pointed the camera towards the two of us. The flip out screen perfectly showcased both of us, as he held the device from a high angle. "Karris say hey to YouTube."

"Hey all of Mikey's five-million subscribers!" I beamed happily at the camera, waving a hand in its direction.

"Karris is one of my best friends who was known as the girl with a killer slapshot. I'm gonna put her socials in the bottom bar below, so go give this stunning girl a follow," Michael vivaciously informed, before tilting his head down to leave a kiss on my temple.

"Clifford, share the girl!"

Michael and I snapped our attention over to the burly voice a few feet away. Standing at the bar with a cold pint of beer in his hand, was none other than Coach Benson. He stood tall and proud, an Irwin jersey embellishing his body.

"Coach!" I screamed in excitement, running straight for my ex hockey mentor, and throwing my arms around him.

"Coach Karris, how have ya been?" He chuckled, reciprocating my warm embrace.

"Honestly, I've been shitty," I grimaced before another smile etched on my face. "But now, I feel so, so, so happy."

Everyone was here. Every single member of the 2015 to 2016 Willowridge hockey team was within arms length and my heart couldn't stop pounding inside my chest cavity. We were all here together once again, supporting Ashton's professional hockey career, but also supporting our fallen teammate.

"Holy fuck, Karris!" Calum snatched my attention, grabbing my left hand and scrutinizing the large diamond decorating my finger. "You're engaged?"

"You don't know?" I cocked my head to the side with wonderment dripping from my face. I was surprised, because for the first time, there was someone who didn't know of my recent engagement.

"Hello? Did you forget? I've been living off the grid for like three years," Calum reminded with a kooky grin.

I let out a groan, facing palming myself, "oh my gosh. Duh. I'm an idiot. Sorry. How's the simple Māori life in New Zealand?"

"It's awesome; I make a great fisherman. Don't change the topic," Calum quickly dismissed. "That ring on your finger is huge."

"Calum's never seen anything that large before," Michael interjected, winking his eye in exaggeration.

"Shut up, what do you think I have in my pants, Clifford? A mini sausage?" Calum retorted with annoyance.

"Anyways," I chimed in, before the two could escalate the inappropriate conversation. I turned to look at Calum with a smile, "yes, I am engaged. It happened five days ago to Ethan Herrera."

Calum's brown eyes grew immensely, "shut the fuck up, Karris. Really? Ashton's former teammate?"

"You make it seem like I slept with the enemy," I scoffed at his statement. "Ethan was already traded into the Kings when we started dating."

"Okay, okay," Calum raised his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry for insinuating the worse. It's just a lot to take in. I always thought that somehow you and Ashton would end up getting back together, that's all."

"Why would you think that?" I asked.

"Because you're Karris and Ashton— your love is painted across the galaxy," Calum's testament was so simple, and eloquently revealed. Whatever was going on in that little Māori town in New Zealand, really affected him. He was really in tune with himself, and in tune with the world. But the words Calum spoke, were words that forced me to contemplate.

I didn't pay much attention to the match. Normally, I loved watching hockey— and I loved watching Ethan skate across the ice at rapid speed, executing such balletic movements as he passed the puck or scored it. But here's the thing, I've never seen Ethan play against Ashton before. I've watched them play on the television, but there's something completely soul shaking to see it live rather than on a flatscreen.

"He's awe-inspiring," I found myself whispering, my eyes glued to the rink at one point during the game.

"I agree. Your fiancé is a damn beautiful player," Calum expressed in the seat next to me. I didn't even know he heard my statement, but what I did know, was that I wasn't talking about Ethan— I was talking about Ashton.

This entire suite I sat in radiated Ranger pride. Each former player of the Willowridge hockey team, plus Berkley, were decked out in blue jerseys with Ashton's last name arched in block lettering. They wore snapbacks, beanies, and embellished their cheekbones with stripes of blue face paint. Everyone rooted for Ashton, as I sat amongst them in a black jersey representing my fiancé.

Secretly, I cheered for my hockey captain.

Third period was quickly coming to an end, and we were 3 to 3 with two minutes left on the clock. Brutal wouldn't even begin to describe the intensity out on the ice. Both teams were thirsty for the win, and neither were holding back. Each player in the rink maneuvered themselves with agility, passing the puck with trick shots. At this point, the game could sway towards either team.

"Come on, you can do this," I bit my bottom lip in utter nervousness as I witnessed Ashton glide across the ice. He spun his padded body to avoid a King and skated backwards several paces before passing the puck to a teammate.

Number 44 of the New York Rangers, came out of nowhere. He effortlessly stole the puck from his opponent before racing across the ice. With a strike of his stick, the rubber disk flew through the air, and Ashton was there to catch it.

"Holy fuck, Ash! Demolish them!" Berkley screamed at the top of her lungs as she pounded the air with clenched fists. Upon realizing her statement, she turned over her shoulder and darted a guilty beam towards me. I only laughed at her behavior because it reminded me of that same zeal she exuded while watching my games at Willowridge High.

Ashton was so close to the net and I crossed my fingers. There was room for him to either pass the puck, or score it, but unfortunately for him, Ethan happened. His talent was amazing, and took the puck away. He passed the disk to another King, then after a few strides, the puck was back with Ethan. Then in one swift movement, his stick collided with the puck. At an insane speed, it zoomed into the right side of the net before the goalie could even figure out what was happening. And that's why he was Hot Shot Herrera— because his slapshots were always fire.

"Congrats Karris," Michael leaned over to playfully punch me in the arm.

This was a wakeup call in a sense, because I didn't even realize the game ended. I didn't notice the booing, or the angry yelling of disappointed Rangers fans. All I noticed, was Ashton. Even though I was so high up, I could feel it in my bones, that he was miserably upset. I watched him skate across the ice to the players bench, and sulk in a terrible loss at a home game.

At the moment I didn't know why, but I had this insatiable desire to run over to that dimpled boy and comfort him. I wanted to hold him; to remind him that there were still more games in the season. I wanted to run my fingers through his head of curly hair, hug him tight, and just make him feel whole again. But really, I just wanted to feel whole again.

"Karebear, look!" Berkley patted my thigh and excitedly pointed at something.

Following her gaze, I found a massive version of me playing on the jumbotron. The camera panned in on me as I sat shellshocked. The crowd in the stands all pointed at the colored screen, or at me. I wished I could melt into the carpet and avoid the scrutinizing gazes of all these New York natives, and the people watching at home.

"Karris, wave or something," Calum pressed. "You look constipated."

With a reluctant sigh, I followed his suggestion and forced the biggest fake smile I could ever muster. I waved both my hands, the shiny rock on my ring finger gleaming brightly.

"And congrats to Ethan Herrera on his recent engagement to his stunning fiancé, Karris Villanueva," the announcer enthusiastically broadcasted, his voice echoing from the speakers. "An avid hockey fan, Karris used to co-coach her high school hockey team, and was known for her 100 mile slapshot."

I continued my charade until the camera shifted its focus from me, to Ethan. He stood on the ice with his proud teammates, surrounded by news reporters. My eyes darted around the rink aimlessly, till they landed on a messy mop of brown, curly hair. He wasn't looking at the chaos on the ice, but instead, he stared straight up at me. My breathing hitched, and my lungs felt like they were on fire. Despite the several feet that separated us, his hazel eyes still managed to latch onto mine, and I felt like I could burst into tears.

"Guys, look! It's Ash!" Coach Benson announced happily, peering over the railing to point at his former player.

The rest of the team followed suit, waving their hands at Ashton, who responded to the attention with a dimpled grin. He waved his arms in the air, and subjected himself into a quirky dance, as the team yelled obnoxious things at him.

"I miss your ass!" Michael declared, garnering the attention of the leftover crowd.

I sunk in my seat, hiding behind the massive bodies of the Willowridge team. Rubbing my face in frustration, I let out a groan. I didn't know why I had so much pent up anxiety held within me, but what I did know, was that I needed an outlet— preferably something with alcohol.

I eventually got my wish.

Berkley came to my rescue, as she always does, and whisked me away from the awkward situation. We waited in the lobby of MSG while the team finished up their childish antics. After thirty minutes, they filtered onto ground level, cheerful laughter following them. The pub where we'd be celebrating at, was about a mile away near Rockefeller Plaza. Like a badass clique, we all strutted through the streets of Manhattan towards what apparently was Ashton's favorite bar.

"First round of beer is on me!" Coach Benson announced, the moment we stepped into the warm abode.

The Spotty Spade oozed 1920's, with gorgeous architecture and interior design. We walked straight into the Roaring Twenties, and I was at an awe with the dimly lit tavern. Intricately detailed, I took a seat at one of the cushioned stools, trailing my eyes across the chalkboard menus on the wall.

"Are we all down for an Alpine IPA?" Michael asked, gesturing for one of the many golden-handled spigots. "It was Luke's favorite, and I think we should all drink his beer of choice in honor of him."

"I just need alcohol in my system, and will drink fucking moonshine," I affirmed with a pound of my fist against the wooden table top. "Just lay it on me!"

"Whoa, there," Calum chuckled, throwing his hands up in defense. "Since when did Coach Karris start cursing and become an alcoholic?"

"Nuckin' futs, Cal. Maybe if you checked your Snapchats more than once a year, then you'd see that I've grown quite the tastebud for liquor," I joked.

"She's not lying."

Our attention swung over to the new voice entering the conversation. When my eyes darted from Calum, to the figure standing there with a boyish half-grin, my stomach dropped a thousand feet. The hazel eyes I used to love getting lost in, were behind a pair of glasses, while the brown curls I used to find myself running fingers through, were gathered behind his head in an adorable bun.

"Ash," I breathed, my eyes glossed with surprise.

"Hey babydoll," his greeting slipped through his lips like instinct. I saw his face flush with error, upon realizing his mistake, but honestly, I didn't mind at all.

It was like the parting of the Red Sea the way the Willowridge hockey team separated into two different chunks. A clear pathway to Ashton appeared, and my body garnered the ability to think for itself. I didn't even realize my legs were moving towards the dimpled hockey player, till I was suddenly toe to toe with him.

Every feeling I've once felt for Ashton ignited within my body all at the same time. My heart became a puppet for my mind, as memories upon memories swept in my head like an anarchic tornado. These moments once shared with Ashton; every hug, kiss, dance, hand hold were anchored by my heart. They were tethered together, controlling me like a marionette, and I couldn't stop myself from flinging my arms around Ashton's neck.

"I've missed you too, Karris," he chuckled softly into my ear. His muscular arms gripped onto my body with great strength, and I completely melted into him.

I felt my soul dance out of its shell, and join Ashton's in an interplanetary expedition. This stomach bubbling, heart thumping, lungs ablaze feeling was something I hadn't experienced in such a long time. It felt so foreign to me. My entire being drowned in the drug that is Ashton Irwin, and I was willing to fuel the addiction.

"You played so well today," I told him, as the two of us separated from our hug. Ashton's lips lifted into the brightest smile and despite the chilly New York winter, it suddenly felt like a summer morning.

"Thank you," his hands gently trailed my arms to hold my hands. "But your fiancé, played better."

I don't know how, but I forgot— I legitimately erased any recollection that told me I was engaged. My heart dropped from the reminder, and I quickly flickered my eyes to my left hand, the gaudy piece of jewelry mocking me.

"Congratulations by the way," Ashton tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, just like old times. "I'm glad you found someone that makes you happy. The entire hockey world is rooting for you two— you and Ethan are like the Steph and Ayesha Curry of the NHL."

"Really? Because I heard we were like David and Victoria Beckham."

Our heads snapped over to the friendly chuckles behind us, and were met with the upbeat grin of Ethan. He waltz straight over to me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. I couldn't even look at him, because all I could summon was guilt. I felt guilty, because for a few short moments, I had forgotten all about Ethan and our untimely engagement.

"Amazing game, Ashton," Ethan complimented, giving him a hearty pat on the arm. "You've improved so much since the last time we played together. I'm super impressed, man."

"Thanks— and same to you. You were a beast out there," Ashton nodded his head, before clapping both his hands together. "Let's get this celebration started! Are we doing a toast to Luke, or what?"

Rambunctious hollers erupted within the walls of the pub, eliciting a night of drunken shenanigans. The ice cold pints of beer paid for by Coach Benson, were being passed around. It was a pleasant moment of nostalgia, bringing me back to our high school hockey days. However, instead of handing out bottles of Gatorade, it was an amber colored libation.

"What are you doing here?" I looked at Ethan with curiosity. "You're not tired?"

"Why wouldn't I be here? I want to support you, babe," Ethan happily disclosed. "I understand that Luke was someone very special to you and your friends. I just want to be there for you."

Guilt— that's all I could feel. I felt dirty; like I did something wrong and the feeling wouldn't disappear. The longer I stared into Ethan's brown eyes, the stronger the remorse.

"Yo fuckfaces!" Michael stood on top of a table with his arms open wide like some superior. The loud bustle of conversation faded into silence as we all watched in wonder. "Does everyone have a drink in their hand? It's time to make a toast."

Michael head nodded to the bartender behind the counter. She smiled back and pressed a button on a black controller. Suddenly, a low rumble filled our ears and a projector screen materialized from the ceiling. When a bright beam of light casted upon the blank canvas, an image of Luke suddenly popped up.

"Aw, my love," I frowned, gazing with sadness at the handsome man displayed for all of us to see. His eyes, blue like island waters, shined with joy. It matched the grin etched across his face, filled with so much pride.

"Look at that debonair firefighter," Berkley commented, and I heard a sniffle emit from her nose. I looked over at her and took her hand in mine. I gave it a reassuring squeeze, and she softly smiled in response.

"Damnit Luke," Calum's voice cracked from behind me. Turning over my shoulder to look at him, I found my dark haired friend with a stream of tears glossing his eyes. "He just had to be a fucking hero."

"I've known Luke since we were thirteen," Michael began, his voice booming against the walls. "We met in the eighth grade while in Science class. We fucking hated each other, and were always pranking one another. But then we were both thrown in detention."

"I remember that," Calum interrupted with a sly smirk. "You put a laxative in his chocolate milk, and he retaliated by smearing melted chocolate on the back of your white pants."

"That dick told the entire school that I shit myself," Michael finished with a laugh. We all joined in his laughter, celebrating the prankster that Luke always was. "In detention, I found out that he loved hockey as much as I did, and the rest you could say, is history. Luke's my best friend, and uh—"

Michael's smile faltered, and he slowly closed his eyes. He turned his head to hide his face, as his shoulders heaved up and down in a gloomy weep. I felt my heart shatter as I watched Michael silently cry to himself. For as long as I've known him, the crazy-haired boy has always been happy-go-lucky and positive. But to see him break down his walls and break down into tears, was a saddening moment I'd never forget.

"I got you, Mikey."

Suddenly, there was a supportive friend standing on the table next to him— Ashton. He pulled Michael into a hug, and rubbed his back with care. Michael's tears wouldn't stop, and therefore had to cease his speech. The two men stepped off of the table, and it was silent for a quick second, before feedback from the microphone echoed through the speakers.

"Hey everyone," Berkley smiled from the table top. "If you don't remember who I am, I'm Berkley Ramos. I used to be on the Willowridge dance team before a set of special," she emphasized, "photos circulated through out the campus."

Berkley paused to scan her eyes across the pub. Several pairs of eyes gazed back at her, but when her focus landed on me, I gave her a reassuring nod of my head.

"When those photos were leaked, some terrible rumors started," Berkley continued, her expressive tone strong and inspiring. "It was probably one of the lowest points in my life. Not only did I get kicked off of the dance team, ruining my chances at a dance scholarship, but I still didn't know who I was."

My best friend turned to look over her shoulder, at the beautiful photograph of Luke projected upon the screen. When she twisted back around, her brown eyes were filled with tears.

"But Luke was so kind to me," Berkley cried, letting out a shaky breath. She took a moment to recompose herself before continuing. "He was so supportive. He saw past my mistakes and issues, and saw me for me. Luke sat me down, hugged me strong, and told me that being gay wasn't a problem."

A symphony of cheers shocked Berkley, and the rowdy hollers from my old teammates illustrated their everlasting support.

Berkley beamed, the striking smile providing her with a glow. "Luke told me that being gay was something to be embraced, and whenever I was ready to come out, he'd have my back. To some, Luke became a hero the moment he pledged as a firefighter. To others, he became a hero when he bravely ran into that burning building to save a little girl— a noble act that ultimately took his life."

Pausing, Berkley exhaled and closed her tear-brimmed eyes. A whimper escaped her lips, but she forced herself to release a smile before concluding her beautiful lament, "however to me, he has always been my Superman. I miss him so damn much. I love you Luke, forever and always... Thank you."

I clapped my hands hard for my best friend. I knew the story and special bond Berkley had with Luke, however not everyone did. But with Berkley's testament, it became another piece of evidence confirming the hero that Luke always was.

"To Luke Hemmings!" Ashton shouted, holding his pint in the air. We all followed suit, raising our own glasses above our heads.

"To Luke Hemmings!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pride oozing from my body, before we clinked our glasses in honor of our blue-eyed hero.

Despite the fact that IPA's were my least favorite type of beer, I chugged half of my glass without cringing. I was too emotional, and maybe it was because my period was approaching, but being surrounded by such good people while we celebrated the life of our fallen best friend, was very overwhelming.

"It's a good thing I came along," Ethan chuckled next to me. "At the rate you're going, I'm gonna need to take care of you."

I adoringly stared at Ethan, reaching my arm to cup the side of his face. He was so wonderful; so damn perfect in every part of our relationship, and I couldn't comprehend why I had no ferocious demand to marry this man. Any woman would be lucky to have Ethan, and I did— I had him.

But I wanted more.

Ethan gave me everything and then some. If he weren't showering me with gifts, he was drowning me with affection. If he couldn't physically be there, I'd wake up and go to sleep with loving text messages. Ethan Herrera willingly gave me his whole heart, and yet here I was, with a desire for something better.

"Are you alright, baby?" Ethan sensed my drop in bliss. "Is it memories of Luke? You know he's shining down on you and your friends."

"No, not Luke," I pushed a small smile and shook my head. "It's nothing, really. Just engulfed with too much feelings."

"Come here," Ethan tugged my arms and pulled me into his chest. It was comfortable, but not comforting, and I didn't know why. God, I was such a dick.

"Everyone, I made something!"

I lifted my head out of Ethan's chest and followed the deep voice to its source. Composed and no longer overflowing with tears, Michael stood by the projection screen. Excitement dripped from his ear to ear grin, as we waited for him to continue.

"I've been compiling photos, videos, and Snapchats of not just our time with Luke, but our time together as friends. On the long ass flight here from Thailand, I made a montage of the best friendship ever," Michael explained, gesturing for the screen.

Again, he nodded his head at the bartender, who clicked another button. The bright screen gradually faded into black, before the first video materialized to the stimulating tune of American Author's 'What We Live For.'

"Holy shit, this is great," Calum laughed loudly, clapping his hands in glee. He gawked at the clip of Luke skating across the Willowridge ice rink in a frilly fairy costume.

The medley of memories continued, and the wide grin plastered on my face would not fade. The hilarious moments captured by us, and put together by Michael became a remedy for our sadness. I couldn't stop laughing, and at one point I clutched onto my stomach due to the side-cinching pain.

"Oh my gosh! Karris' surprise birthday party!" Berkley shrieked excitedly, pointing at the footage of my old Arden Heights home filled with all my friends.

Snapchat videos of the team surprising me with my own customized jersey filled the screen, before a lively transition switched the clip into another sweet moment. It was at our championship game, where I surprised the team with my presence. The recording showed our gratified cheers when Willowridge won for the tenth consecutive time. In the clip, Ashton picked me up and I let out a shrill before he spun me around.

"Aw, so cute," Berkley gushed.

Indeed, it was really cute. I smiled at the memory, my stomach filling with butterflies of nostalgia. And then things got a little awkward. Not for me, not for Ashton, but for Ethan. I don't blame Michael at all for his magnificent editing skills, but the next several clips and photographs following that pure memory from five years ago, were pieced together to create a montage of the greatest love I've ever known.

"Look at my handsome man who graduated today!" Pride glinted in my eyes, as I held the front camera of my phone towards my smiling face. Ten feet behind me, stood Ashton who was clad in his cap and gown. Noticing the phone in my hand, Ashton ran straight for me and planted a huge kiss on my cheek.

"I love you, princess," Ashton declared in the clip before we were bombarded with forehead kisses from Michael and Luke.

"Aw, you guys were always my favorite couple," Calum gushed, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Couple?" Ethan gazed at me with puzzlement.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I was embarrassed, scared, and guilty all at once. Past Ethan, I saw Ashton eyeing me intently. Our focus latched onto one another, and I couldn't read his expression. I had no idea what he was thinking, nor what emotions were bubbling inside him. Was it just sweet nostalgia to him— a reminder of what we once had but lost? Or did Ashton hold the same feeling as I?

Regret.

My heart tore apart and I had no clue if I could ever repair it. I thought the heartache of losing Ashton had disappeared the moment I felt happiness when surrounded by Ethan's presence. But I guessed I was wrong, because the pain was only suppressed, never fully mended.

"Third wheeling to visit Calum at Cobb today!" Michael's Snapchat footage glowed in our faces, his voice narrating the scene he captured. I had Ashton in a piggyback, attempting to run through a parking lot before we both tumbled to the ground in hysterical laughter.

"You two crazy knuckleheads defined young love," Coach Benson chuckled from the corner, flinging a french fry at the screen.

"They're love was built by the gods," Michael commented, following Coach's lead and tossing a fried pickle at the screen.

Ethan no longer held me. Instead, I was left with coldness surrounding my body and the pub's glass door swinging shut. My stomach dropped a thousand feet, as I ran after my fiancé. I pushed the barricade open, meeting the chilly winter air and darting my head from left to right.

"Hey!" I called out, jogging after Ethan who rapidly sauntered away. "Why did you leave?"

Ethan didn't answer, and quickened his pace. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and completely ignored me. His face contorted with a mixture of emotions: anger, humiliation, heartache.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my tone soft as I rested a hand on his arm. Swiftly, Ethan stopped his movements and glared at me lividly.

"Were you ever going to tell me that you and Ashton dated?" His voice was deep and spiked with fury.

"I did tell you about Ash and I," I insisted.

"No!" Ethan yelled. "You said that Ashton and you had history together because of the whole hockey thing. Not once did you ever mention that you and him had some enchanting love built by the gods!"

"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammered, gazing at Ethan with shame.

"Is he the reason why you said you'd think about it, when I proposed to you?" Ethan brought up, and my throat closed.

The media publications and blogs announced our engagement because Ethan made the proposal a huge deal. He was extravagant in his ways, and planned this epic event at an Ed Sheeran concert for all of Staples Center to see. Thousands upon thousands of video evidence showed me getting pulled up onto the stage during his performance of 'Perfect.' Then Ethan showed up, got down on one knee, and declared his undying love for me. He slipped that flamboyant diamond ring on my finger and I responded with a hug.

"I thought you were just shocked," Ethan confessed. His voice was no longer angry, and instead it carried notes of sadness. "Then later that night you said you'd think about it, and I didn't care because I thought you just needed some time to let it all sink in. Not once did it ever cross my mind that you weren't actually in love with me."

"I do love you Ethan," I honestly told him. I wasn't lying, this was a true fact.

"No," he shook his head. "You love the idea of me because it's comfortable and easy. You love me for stability, but Karris, you're not in love with me."

"Sweetheart," my voice cracked, and I stepped towards him. I held his face in between two cupped hands and I leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I don't know if you're still in love with Ashton, or with anyone at all, but I know it isn't with me," Ethan cried.

"I don't know what to say, or what to do," I admitted, feeling my heart crack like porcelain.

"You're going to be happy," Ethan ordered. "That's what you're going to do."

"Ethan, I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry."

"It's been an honor, Karris."

"I love you."

"I love you, more."

Ethan held me for one last time, his lips leaving his love like a farewell. I slipped off the ring embellishing my finger and placed it into his hand. He gazed at me with tender devotion; eyeing me like a broken piece of art, and I couldn't handle the pain sewed into his face. Before I could look away however, Ethan was already turning on his heel. He walked away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk with my warm, wispy breath dancing before my parted lips.

I felt confused and disoriented about life for so long, that when I lost Ethan, I thought I'd be drifting into a black hole. But that was far from the truth. I didn't plunge into an abyss of listlessness and disorder, instead a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I still had no clue what the hell I would be doing with my life; no inkling of where I should take my career path. I didn't have a big-girl job, I still lived at home, I was no longer engaged, and yet, I oddly felt at ease.

"Karris?"

My head lifted to find Ashton standing before me with concern. He stared at me in confusion, the gears shifting in his head.

"It's cold out here, why aren't you inside?" Ashton questioned.

"Ethan had to leave," I shrugged.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, taking a step in my direction.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and quickly wiped away the tears that stained my cheeks. Suddenly, my body became engulfed in a sea of warmth. Ashton's arms were around my body, squeezing it tightly. I felt his chin rest on top of my head as I buried my face into his chest.

"Why are you crying? What's going on? Why did Ethan leave?"

Ashton's questions were never ending as he continued to hold me. His embrace wasn't just comfortable— it was comforting. The pain that shocked my insides eased up, ebbed by the simple touches of the dimpled hockey player.

When he and I separated, my tears had subsided and the questions did too. Not wanting to be back at the tavern, surrounded by people, I felt more tranquility being outside in the cold. Ashton took me up the block to Rockefeller Plaza, where the most stunning Christmas tree ever stood. Below the tree, was an ice skating rink, something I had only seen in photos. As we strolled closer to the soft glow of lights, we were suddenly stopped.

"Excuse me? Ashton Irwin?"

"Yes, that's me," Ashton smiled. An older man stood there, an excited radiance on his face. He wore a dark blue uniform, a set of several keys dangling from his belt loops.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I am a big Rangers fan," the man declared. "My son and I love watching all your games."

"Thank you for the support. I'm happy that hockey can bring you and your son together," Ashton rested a hand on his heart, delight flowing from him.

"Could I bother you for a quick photo?" The man earnestly asked.

"Yes," Ashton replied as a mischievous smirk graced is face. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"You keep the rink open for an extra thirty minutes for us to skate around in?"

"For you Mr. Irwin, I will keep it open for an extra hour," the man graciously offered with a chuckle.

The two men got together for a few sweet photographs, before sharing a friendly hug. The man held his end of the deal, and unlocked a gate to the rink. The lights turned on one by one like a crescendo, and before I knew it Ashton was pulling me down the staircase to the ice. The kind man helped us rent some skates, turned on the Christmas playlist, and with an assuring nod, Ashton and I stepped onto the ice.

I felt like was eighteen again— carefree, happy, and enjoying the simple life. My heart soared into a childlike fantasy, and I couldn't help but to smile greatly. Ashton chased me across the rink before channelling his inner ice princess. I laughed at his silliness and joined him by attempting to leap in the air.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed, falling onto the ice with a thud. I winced from the pain, but my smile never withered.

"Wow Karebear, did you forget how to ice skate already?" Ashton teased, giggling like a child as he skated circles around me.

"Says the guy who lost today," I retorted with a smug expression.

"Ouch," Ashton theatrically threw a hand to his chest, and mocked my joke.

With a smile, he held out his arm and I took his hand. He helped me off of the ice, but never let me go. Together, we skated around the rink, enjoying New York's winter wonderland. Playful banter ensued, laughter echoed in the evening sky, and everything about these moments with Ashton gave me the most perfect escape.

"What's on your mind?" Ashton asked softly, as he and I slowed down our movements.

"A lot," I answered honestly, the two of us coming to a complete halt at the center of the rink.

"You're not wearing your engagement ring," he noticed, taking my left hand and rubbing my finger beneath his thumb.

"It didn't really work out between us."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not... I just feel bad for Ethan."

Ashton scooted a little closer towards me, and I felt his warmth tingle all around like tiny shocks of electricity. His hazel eyes latched onto mine, searching for some kind of truth. My own heart pounded against my chest with such strength, you could hear it across the universe. Ashton lifted a hand to hold the side of my face, his thumb gently caressing my bottom lip.

"I never got over you," Ashton admitted, and pain washed his face. "I know our decision to break up was mutual because long distance grew harder each day, but I fucking regret every single day without you."

"I'm sorry baby," I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. I didn't try to stop the tears that dribbled from my eyes, as I held Ashton close. His heart vibrated against my chest in rhythmic patterns, like a sonata meant for us only.

"I wanted to try again," Ashton croaked, slowly disconnecting us to rest his forehead against mine. "I was so close to flying out to California to win back your heart, but then the photographs of both you and Ethan surfaced, and suddenly you were the hockey world's greatest it-couple."

"I wished you still came to win my heart because I would've given it to you without hesitation," I disclosed.

"I still love you, babydoll," Ashton breathed, a harrowing sob escaping him. I pulled away for a moment to lovingly gaze at the boy before me. I leaned back in to place a delicate kiss on his cheek, where a gleaming teardrop rested.

"Ash, I never stopped loving you, and this entire time, I felt this gaping hole in my chest and it hurt to breath," I genuinely expressed. I pressed my lips against his jawline, tasting a fallen teardrop wedged in between the stubble.

"I wish you needed me as much as I needed you," Ashton's chin lifted from his chest to take a peek at me with glassy eyes. "You found that need in Ethan, and baby that broke my heart."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I apologized, connecting my forehead against his. "You should know that Ethan did fill the hole in my chest, but it was never permanent— it never stuck. I don't know why, but seeing you today filled that void. With a quick glance, and my shattered heart began to mend better than what Ethan could offer in the last few years."

Ashton's breath was hot against my skin, a contrast to the frosty air surrounding us. His parted lips enclosed my bottom one, and with every breath taken, a featherlike touch electrified every part of me.

"Can I kiss you?" Ashton's question slipped out his mouth slowly, and without another second wasted, I gave him permission.

"Please."

Within a second, Ashton's lips tenderly pressed into mine, and a voltage of high-powered intensity prickled my entire body. A surge of sweet memories recollected in my mind, playing like a cheesy romance flick. This kiss anchored me to the ground, but the feeling itself drifted me into a metaphysical daydream.

The beat of my heart escalated into rapid strides, as my hands trailed to the collar of Ashton's shirt. I grabbed the material and pulled him in as close as possible, wanting to feel his chest rise and fall against mine. Our breaths grew heavy, as did the kiss. It was slow, yet needy, and passionate all at the same time.

"I don't think I can ever let you go again," Ashton told me as we separated from each other.

"I don't want you to," I stated. Ashton smiled, tilting his head down to softly kiss me again.

Any bout of sorrow, ounce of fear, or spell of hollowness ever felt in the last several years disappeared as I melted into the supple caress of Ashton's embrace. I didn't know what my future held— what my job would be, if I'd continue living in California, or if I'll ever make it to a Soul Cycle class. But if I could dictate my future in any way, I knew I wanted Ashton to be a part of it.

When we were eighteen, young and so in love, it felt like life couldn't touch us. Even though we were immersed in terrible situations, Ashton and I had each other. We knew how to lift up one another; how to push each other till we gained the confidence to fly. In high school, I drove Ashton to bolt past his limitation and become the best hockey player he could be. In retrospect, he taught me how to be strong, how to release my inner badassness, and how to find the confidence to stand up for myself.

"We can take this one day at a time," I suggested with hope.

"Then you'll be the best part of each day," Ashton replied without missing a beat.

I giggled at his cheesiness, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Ashton fell into laughter too, grabbing my waist and lifting me into the air. I let out a shrill, startled from the unexpected gesture, and held onto his shoulders. As he skated around the rink, Ashton continuously pretended to drop me. This only tightened my grip around his neck, and I laughter loudly in his ear.

At eighteen, our love was like a slapshot. We fought against the odds, the distractions, and terrible timing. However, we had faith and luck on our side, and at the right moment, we struck a goal. Now at twenty-three, still young and figuring life out, our love was the whole damn sport. Ashton and I were like two opposing teams, bringing people together for the joy of something common— to win.

"I'm so glad this reunion, though under heartbreaking circumstances, happened. I missed us, our friends, Willowridge hockey..." I expressed as Ashton and I walked hand in hand back to the pub.

"Me too," Ashton agreed. "I know I lost the game today, but I still ended this night as a winner."

Like a game of hockey, life isn't easy all the time. The universe doesn't grant every wish; it doesn't let every puck enter the net. Sometimes life takes our loved ones away, or someone gets hurt on the ice. But when you've got an incredible team by your side, even the greatest loss can feel like a breathtaking win. With a supportive team like ours, we're only meant to soar. With a captain like Ashton, I'm only fated to strike a perfect slapshot. And with a love like ours, we were only destined to win— like a perfect game of hockey.

The End.

✖

Happy Holidays my friends!!!

I wish you all the most spectacular holiday season ever. Whether it's Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukkah, or neither, I hope that your days are filled with joy, laughter, and food!! ❤️

I hope you all enjoyed this 10800+ word one shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. Honestly, I didn't expect such a high word count but the story flowed out of me so seamlessly. Thank you for voting, commenting, and continuously supporting my writing. That's the best Christmas present an author can receive and with readers like you, everyday feels like a holiday. Thank you!

xo, Audrey