Burning Ice - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

I wasn't expecting it. Not from her. Not tonight.
When my phone buzzed just before midnight and her name lit up the screen, my first thought was that something had happened, maybe with Ted, maybe with her. Billie didn't just call to talk. Not at this hour, at least.
But then she started rambling, her words rushing out like she was trying to outrun her own fear. And before I could piece together what she was even trying to say, she dropped it.
I love you.
Three words I wasn't sure I'd ever hear from her, at least not so soon. Hell, maybe not ever. I'd spent weeks trying to remind myself it didn't matter if she didn't say it back right away, that it wasn't about hearing it in return. I just wanted her to know.
And yeah, it stung when I said it the first time and she didn't say it back. I'd be lying if I said it didn't. But I also knew Billie and the walls she had around her heart weren't coming down overnight. I'd made my peace with waiting, even if it meant waiting decades for her to figure it out.
But then she called me. And just like that, she shattered every expectation I had.
I don't think she even realizes what she's done to me, how hearing those words come out of her mouth flipped something inside me. It wasn't just what she said and it was how she said it. Like she was terrified but couldn't hold it in anymore. Like she was giving me this piece of herself she wasn't sure I could handle.
But I could. I can.
I laid there in bed after we hung up, staring at the ceiling like an idiot with this big, stupid grin on my face. She told me she loves me. Billie loves me. And if I didn't already know I'd never feel this way about anyone else, that would've sealed it.
I've never told anyone else I loved them. Not like this. Not in the way I said it to her. Every other relationship I've had felt like going through the motions, like there was something missing I couldn't quite name. But with Billie? Everything just... fits. Even when it doesn't.
It's not just about the way she looks at me, or the way she challenges me, or how she manages to be the most frustrating and captivating person I've ever met. It's the way she makes me want to be better, to be someone she can rely on. Someone she can trust.
Hearing her say those words tonight felt like the biggest win of my life. Bigger than any game I've played, any trophy I've won. And not because I needed her to say it to know how I feel about her, but because it means she's letting me in.
She loves me.
I don't know what's next for us, and I know it won't always be easy, but I don't care. Billie's worth it. She always has been.
And tonight? Tonight, I'm going to bed with the biggest damn smile on my face because I know we're one step closer to something real. Something lasting.
She loves me, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I've finally found exactly where I'm meant to be.
I wake up with my phone still in my hand, screen dark, Billie's voice lingering like the last notes of a song I don't want to end.
She said it.
I don't move right away. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting it sink in. The words feel like they're still in the air, like if I listen hard enough, I'll hear them again. I love you, Nate. Quiet. Almost hesitant. Like she wasn't sure if she meant to say it out loud.
But she did. And fuck if that doesn't do something to me.
A part of me wants to call her back right now, make her say it again so I know I didn't just dream it. Another part, probably the more rational one, not that I ever listen to it tells me to play it cool. Let her sit with it. Let her wonder what I'm thinking, the way I've spent too many nights wondering about her.
I exhale and rub a hand over my face, trying to shove my mind into the place it actually needs to be. Playoffs.
I have to focus.
The bruises from yesterday's practice remind me of that when I sit up. My shoulder's stiff as hell, my knuckles are still raw from that scrap in front of the net. Coach is already on my ass about staying out of the box, but at this point in the season, the game's too fast, too physical, too important for me to start pulling punches.
Still, my head's not where it should be.
I go through the motions—shower, pull on a hoodie, grab my keys—but my thoughts keep drifting. To the sound of her voice. The way she hesitated, like she was giving me something fragile and hoping I wouldn't break it.
Like she thought I wouldn't want it.
I shake my head, jaw tightening as I head for the door. She doesn't get it. She never fucking has. If she did, she'd know—
I've been hers for a long time.
The cold air of the rink bites at my skin as I step onto the ice, but I welcome it. It's grounding. Familiar. The one place where my head stays clear—except today, it's not.
Today, my mind is split between the game and her.
I push forward anyway, driving my skates hard against the ice, focusing on the rhythm of my stride. Playoffs are coming fast, and there's no room for distractions. Coach's voice cuts through the air, barking orders, and I lock in.
Drills first. Puck movement, line rushes, battle drills along the boards. My body moves on instinct, muscle memory taking over, but my head? It's still somewhere else.
She said she loves me.
I catch a pass at the blue line, snap a shot on net. It clangs off the post, sharp and unforgiving. Focus.
I fight for a loose puck in the corner, using my weight to pin one of the rookies to the boards before digging it out and sending a clean breakout pass up the ice. The kid grunts, but I don't apologize. If he can't handle a little pressure now, he won't survive the postseason.
I tell myself I won't check my phone between drills. I last about twenty minutes before I skate to the bench, tugging off my glove and reaching for my pocket like a fucking addict. Nothing from her.
Not that I expected anything. Billie's not the type to sit around waiting. And after last night, maybe she needs space to process.
Doesn't stop me from wanting to hear from her.
"You good?" Parker, my linemate, nudges me with the blade of his stick. "You look like you wanna put someone through the glass."
I roll my shoulders, forcing a smirk. "That's just my face."
He snorts. "Nah, something's up. You were off on that last rush."
He's not wrong. I don't feel off, but my mind isn't one hundred percent on the ice either. And that's a problem.
Coach blows the whistle. "Full-ice scrimmage! Let's go!"
I shake out my hands, take a deep breath, and tell myself to lock the fuck in. There's a Cup on the line. My future in the league. My reputation.
And yet, as I line up for the faceoff, I know exactly where my mind is going to drift the second this practice ends.
Straight back to Billie.
As practice winds down, my body feels the exhaustion, but my mind is still running. Billie's voice hasn't left me all morning, and now, with the last drill finished and the team heading off the ice, I finally let myself sink into it.
She said she loves me.
It shouldn't change anything. We're not even together, not really. No labels, no promises, just whatever the hell this thing between us is. But it does change things, because I've known for a long time that I love her too. I just never said it. Never let myself go there.
But now? Now I'm thinking about shit I have no business thinking about.
Like waking up next to her every morning instead of just replaying her voice over the phone. Like her stuff mixed in with mine, her scent lingering in my bed, her name mine in a way it isn't yet.
I picture a ring on her finger, something small because she's not the flashy type but it would still stand out. A mark that says she's taken. That she's mine and I'm hers. I imagine slipping it on her hand, watching her roll her eyes and call me dramatic, but she'd be smiling.
The thought hits me harder than any check I took today.
Jesus. I'm really thinking about marrying her.
Parker skates by and claps me on the shoulder. "You good, man?"
I shake out of it, exhaling as I unclip my helmet. "Yeah. Just tired."
Which is a lie, because I feel wired, like I need to move, do something about the way my mind is racing.
I need to see her.
Not later. Not tomorrow. Now.
Because if I'm standing here, after a full practice, daydreaming about putting a ring on a girl who isn't even technically my girlfriend.
I need to know where she stands.
I toss my gear in the backseat and slam the door shut, barely hearing the muffled goodbyes from my teammates as they head out. The rain is coming down in sheets, hammering against the windshield, but I don't give a shit. My hands grip the wheel, knuckles flexing, my body still wired from practice—from her.
The wipers can't keep up with how hard it's coming down, but I don't slow. My tires cut through the water pooling on the roads, and every time lightning flashes across the sky, it only fuels the restlessness clawing at my chest.
I should probably wait. Call her first. See if she even wants me to come over.
But I don't.
Because after last night, after hearing those words from her mouth, there's no waiting. No overthinking.
I just need to see her.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, but I barely glance at it. It could be coach. Could be one of the guys. Could be Billie.
My fingers twitch to pick it up, but I don't. Not now. Not when I'm already pushing it on these roads.
A car in the opposite lane flashes its high beams as I fly past, probably warning me about something, but I keep going. My chest is tight, my mind racing with all the things I want to say when I finally get to her door.
I love you. I don't care what this is or what we call it—I just know it's you. It's always been you.
The rain keeps falling, but I don't care. I've never cared about shit like that.
All I care about is getting to her.
The buzzing won't stop.
I ignore it at first, gripping the wheel tighter as the rain pounds against the windshield, but something in me twitches. Maybe it's her. Maybe it's Billie.
I flick my gaze down, just for a second.
That's all it takes.
The impact comes out of nowhere—metal crushing metal, force slamming into my right side like a freight train. My body jerks violently, my head snapping back as the world tilts. The sickening sound of glass shattering fills my ears, and suddenly, I'm weightless. Spinning. Flipping. Falling.
My truck is airborne.
Time slows, but my mind is still racing, trying to process the fact that one second I was thinking about Billie, and the next—
The next, I might never see her again.
The thought punches through my chest harder than the impact itself.
I don't feel pain yet. Just cold. Just the eerie, weightless sensation of losing control, of gravity pulling me into something I can't fight.
But I don't think about the truck. I don't think about the rain, or the road, or the fact that I was just imagining a life with her.
I only think about Billie.
Her voice. Her smile. The way she finally said she loves me. And I love her so fucking much.
Then everything goes dark.