Chapter 90: Good Energy

KNOX’S POV

The steel blades of my skates bit into the fresh sheet of ice with a sharp crunch.

I pushed off from the red line, carving a tight arc through the neutral zone before receiving a tape-to-tape pass from Milo.

Without hesitation, I snapped a wrist shot from the high slot. The puck exploded off the blade of my stick, whistling through the chilly arena air and ringing off the top crossbar into the roof of the net with a satisfying PING.

"Damn, Cap!" Milo shouted from the blue line, raising his stick in approval. "Save some of that heat for Boston!"

I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of my mouth as I coasted backward toward the bench.

The dark cloud that had been crushing my ribs for the last two days had completely vanished. My body felt light; my head was clear.

For the first time all week, hockey didn’t feel like an escape from my own misery; it felt exhilarating.

Coach Brennan blew his whistle from the center circle, signaling the end of optional recovery drills.

"Bring it in!" Brennan barked, clapping his gloved hands together. "Good energy today, gentlemen. Film review starts in twenty minutes. Don’t be late."

I grabbed my water bottle from the top of the dasher boards, squeezing a long stream of cold water into my mouth.

Bear skated over, leaning his massive frame against his stick as he watched me with a knowing, suspicious squint.

"Alright, Knox," Bear said, tilting his helmet back. "You stormed out of this arena four hours ago looking like you were ready to murder someone in a back alley, and now you’re out here whistling and snapping bar-down snipes like you just won the draft lottery. What happened with Nora?"

Jake skated up beside Bear, popping his mouthguard out with a grin. "Yeah, Cap. We saw you peel out of the parking lot in the rain. Did you find her?"

I capped my water bottle, tossing it into the rack.

I didn’t give them locker-room gossip, neither did I brag or spill what happened inside Room 304. That was sacred. That belonged to Nora and me.

But I couldn’t hide the pride in my chest.

"I found her," I said, a slow smirk spreading across my face. "And I’m taking her out on a special date tomorrow night."

Bear’s jaw dropped for half a second before his face split into a massive, booming grin. He raised his heavy padded glove, slamming it against my shoulder pads hard enough to rattle my teeth.

"Nice one, Cap!" Bear roared, laughing. "I swear to god, if I had to listen to you brood around the SinBin for another twenty-four hours, I was going to lock you in the equipment closet."

"Shut up, Bear," I chuckled, shaking my head as I skated toward the gate.

"A special date, though?" Jake asked, skating alongside me. "Where are you taking her? Rusty’s?"

"None of your business, Miller," I said, stepping off the ice onto the rubber matting of the tunnel. "Just make sure you two don’t burn the house down while I’m gone."

—

By Saturday afternoon at five-thirty, the second floor of the SinBin was an absolute circus.

I stood in front of the mirror in my private bathroom, a towel draped around my waist, trimming the dark stubble along my jaw with an electric razor.

My bedroom door flew open with a loud bang.

"Knox!" Bear bellowed, marching into my room wearing sweatpants and holding a glass bottle of dark cologne. "You cannot wear that stuff you use after workouts. Here. Take my imported sandalwood. Chicks love this."

"Get the hell out of my room, Bear," I said through the bathroom door, shaking my head.

Milo poked his head through the doorway next, leaning against the doorframe with an arrogant smirk. "Yo, Cap, if you need restaurant recs, the sports pub near the bowling alley has half-price hot wings on Saturday nights. Very romantic."

I stepped out of the bathroom, pulling a clean black crewneck t-shirt over my head, and glared at both of them.

"If either of you touches my keys or suggests hot wings to Nora again, I’m assigning you to bag skates at five in the morning on Monday," I warned.

Bear raised his hands in mock surrender, backing out into the hallway. "Fine, fine. Just trying to help a brother out."

"Out," I ordered, shutting the bedroom door in their faces and turning the deadbolt.

Silence finally settled over my room.

I took a deep breath, looking at myself in the full-length mirror.

I pulled on a fitted, dark charcoal button-down shirt, rolling the sleeves up to my forearms to show my watch. I put on dark, tailored denim and laced up my clean leather boots.

I wasn’t wearing a varsity hoodie; I wasn’t wearing a suit for some high-society donor dinner. I was dressing for Nora.

I grabbed my leather jacket and keys from the dresser, checking my phone.

6:30 PM.

I had made reservations for seven-fifteen at The Anchor & Pine... a cozy, candlelit Italian-seafood bistro tucked away by Briar Harbor. It was famous for fresh house-made pasta, crusty sourdough, and secluded corner booths.

No rowdy campus crowds. No hockey boosters. No photographers. Just good food, candlelight, and the girl who owned my entire heart.

Before heading to campus, I made a quick ten-minute detour downtown.

I pulled my truck up outside the small Italian pasticceria near the harbor, walked inside, and bought a fresh bakery box tied with a satin ribbon.

Inside sat four fresh, golden almond biscotti, baked that very afternoon.

I placed the box carefully onto the passenger seat of my truck, a soft smile touching my lips as I shifted into drive and headed toward North Residence Hall.

—

At six-fifty-five, I pulled into the visitor parking lane outside Nora’s dorm.

The evening was cool, the orange glow of streetlamps reflecting off the dry brick walkways of the campus quad.

I grabbed the ribbon-tied pastry box from the seat, stepped out of the truck, and walked through the glass double doors into the dormitory lobby.

The lobby was relatively busy with students heading out for weekend dinners.

A group of freshmen girls sitting on the couches stopped talking, their eyes widening as they recognized me standing by the reception area in my leather jacket and dark button-down.

I didn’t care about their stares.

I leaned my shoulder casually against the wooden railing beside the elevators, checking my watch.

6:59 PM.

Ding.

The brass elevator chime echoed softly through the lobby.

The polished metal doors slid open. And then, Nora stepped out.

The breath was knocked clean out of my lungs. Every single thought in my head instantly dissolved into pure, static white noise.

Nora was wearing a fitted, emerald-green knit sweater dress that reached just above her knees, highlighting the curves of her waist and hips. Over it, she wore an open black wool coat, and dark leather ankle boots.

Her chestnut curls fell in waves around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes sparkled with a breathtaking, nervous excitement.

She looked radiant. Gorgeous. Stunning.

For three full seconds, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

Nora caught my gaze across the crowded lobby, and a soft, rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks, a radiant smile curving her lips as she walked toward me.

"Hi, Sheridan," Nora whispered softly, stopping right in front of me.

I swallowed hard, the last of my breath returning as I looked down at her. "Hi, Bennett," I rumbled.

I held up the white pastry box with the ribbon, offering it to her.

Nora looked down at the box, her eyes widening in delight as she read the gold script on the packaging: Pasticceria Luigi.

"Are these..." Nora looked up at me, her smile growing impossibly bright.

"Almond biscotti," I murmured, a soft smirk touching my lips. "Fresh from this afternoon. I told you I’d replace the ones I threw away."

Nora let out a breathless laugh, clutching the small box to her chest. "You really are something else, Knox."

"Only for you, Bookworm," I said quietly.

I reached out with my free hand, sliding my fingers between hers, intertwining our fingers together right in the center of the lobby for everyone to see.

Her small, warm hand fit perfectly inside mine, like it was always meant to be there. "You look breathtaking, Nora," I whispered, squeezing her hand gently. "Ready for our date?"

Nora squeezed my hand back.

"I’m ready, Captain."

I smiled, leading her out the glass doors.