He’s Not My Type

“Do you want me to come inside with you or wait in the car?” Blakely asks as she holds my hand.

“I want you there,” I say as I stare up at the large coastal house in front of us.

Visiting Hayden has been on my mind ever since Blakely and I started to get close. I wanted to share this amazing woman with my family, but after the incident with my mom, I had to step back and reassess if contacting my family would be healthy for me or if it would just put another hole in my heart.

So I put the idea on pause.

I focused on what mattered at the moment.

That was Blakely and the playoffs.

And now . . . Blakely and I are engaged, and we have another championship win under our belt.

I’m not going to say it was easy because it wasn’t. There were games when I thought we weren’t going to make it to the next round, but time and time again, we were able to pull it together, string plays in a row, and attack the defense, confusing them with our quick, sly passes and scoring.

And the night we won the Cup, I looked over at Blakely, who was crying hysterically, tears of joy falling down her face, and I told myself she was going to be my wife.

The next day, I bought a ring, and that night, while we were out on the patio, staring up at the stars from the privacy of our apartment, I asked her to be my wife.

It was an immediate yes from her followed by a night I’ll never forget.

I thought winning the championship would be the pinnacle of my life, but I was so fucking wrong. Hearing Blakely say she wanted me to be her husband, that was it.

So now that I’m engaged and a small wedding is in the works for this summer—because I don’t want to wait like my “nitwit” friends—I know I need to do one more thing. And that’s speak to my brother.

I’ve mentally prepared for every scenario.

Blakely has told me over and over again that she’s here for me no matter what.

And we even planned to meet the boys at the cabin in Banff after so that I’m surrounded by those I love.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” she says.

I stare at the black door, the potted plants on the front porch adding a pop of color. “I’m ready.”

I open my door and meet her on her side, then I take her hand in mine.

She squeezes my hand, and we walk up to the house together.

“I love you,” she whispers.

I glance down at her. “I love you, too.”

And then I ring the doorbell, nerves bouncing off in my stomach. We wait a few minutes but when the door is unlocked and opened, I steel myself for his reaction.

On the other side, a tall, familiar figure appears at the door. With a spot of gray at his temples and laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, stands my brother, recently retired and looking like the brother I grew up with, just older.

It takes him a few seconds, but when I see the recognition fall over his face, my stomach roils with anxiety.

“Halsey?” he says, his voice almost a whisper.

“Hey . . . Hayden,” I say.

And then, before I can even blink, he steps forward out onto the porch, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into the biggest hug I’ve ever felt.

“Fucking hell, I missed you so much.”

And just like that . . . it feels like I’m not only surrounded by my older brother but by Holden as well. Fuck, this feels right.

Losing Holden was the toughest thing I’ve ever endured. But if I’ve learned one thing through such devastating loss, it’s that the sun still rises the next day. And the day after that. Life continues its motion. Waiting for your return.

It’s okay to stay in that darkness for a while. It’s okay to grieve your loss. Live the pain. Mourn.

But then, when you can, it’s time to climb out. When you can, it’s time to look at every element of your life and see that there is still joy in it. Even in the shape of four crazy-ass hockey players.

It’s time to lean on those who’ve walked alongside you. And if you’re really lucky, you might find a love that reaches deep inside, finds the pain-filled hole, and holds it. Shares it with you. Carries it. I have no idea what I ever did to deserve Blakely White’s love, but I will treasure it for the rest of my days.