Mile High (Windy City Series Book 1)

“Excuse me!” I try to squeeze through the packed aisles, needing to get down to ice-level. “Excuse me!”

It’s no use. It’s too loud, too many celebrations. Too many fans are eager to get as close to the glass as possible, wanting a glimpse of the new Stanley Cup champions. The rows have emptied into the walkways, locking me into the mass of red and black jerseys.

“Excuse me. I need to get down there.” I push my way through but quickly get shoved back.

I can barely see the ice from where I’m standing, but I need to see him.

My seat was fairly high up, making the task of getting down to the ice before the crowd took over an impossible feat. Standing stranded in the middle of a mass of fans, confetti shoots from the ceiling, startling me. It’s then, stuck at a standstill twenty rows up, that I give in, realizing that I’m not going to make it down there for their celebration.

But I need to see him.

Slipping into the nearest row, I climb onto one of the folding seats to give myself a better view of the ice.

Maddison pulls Zanders off the pile of players lying on the ground to hug him, and my chest swells. Everything Zanders has dreamed of achieving is culminating in this one moment, and I couldn’t be more proud of him if I wanted to.

That is until I see a man who is almost as tall walk onto the ice. Hair just as tightly faded and skin a bit deeper than Zanders’, wearing his son’s jersey with their last name across the back.

I’ve never seen his picture, but I know that’s Zanders’ dad, and witnessing him here, the two of them hugging, fills me with an overflow of emotions.

On the one hand, I’m so thankful that they have each other in a moment they’ll both remember for the rest of their lives.

And on the other hand, a spark of hope ignites within me that if Zanders can allow his dad to love him again, maybe one day, he’ll be able to believe that I do too.

Ella attacks him by the knees, and the smile on Zanders’ face lights up my entire body, but I’m finding it exceptionally hard to breathe since my chest is filled with so much pride.

Watching Zanders with the most essential people in his life reminds me how much he needs to stay in Chicago. He needs to re-sign here with Maddison and his family. This is where he belongs.

Of course, it still hurts knowing he doesn’t believe that I love him, but the past few days since I talked to him last, I’ve questioned if maybe I can look past that. Zanders reached out to his dad. He cut off his mom and agent. He’s clearly working on repairing the damage that brought him to the point of not accepting another person’s love. Maybe that’s good enough. Perhaps progress in that direction could be enough for me.

While we were together, Zanders treated me like he loved me, which was all I needed. I can only hope that when he looks back, he realizes I truly have loved him all along.

I want nothing more than to be on the ice right now, to celebrate him, to make sure he knows I’m here, but things are so up in the air with us that it’s not the right time to figure it out. This moment isn’t about me, and I want him to enjoy this win with his teammates and family. He deserves every second of recognition.

But one way or another, I’m going to see him tonight.

“Miss Shay. It’s so good to see you again.” Zanders’ doorman opens the main entrance to the lobby for me.

“You too.” I point towards the elevator. “Is it okay if I go up?”

“Of course. You’re always on the list. Mr. Zanders isn’t back quite yet, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for him up there.”

I have a key to Zanders’ place, but instead of using it, I take a seat on the floor in the private hall outside his elevator leading to his door. Things are too unsettled between us for me to be waiting inside, but I need him to know I was at the game, and I need him to know how proud I am.

And not just because of hockey. Actually, not because of hockey at all, but because I can see how much work he’s doing in other parts of his life, and he deserves to know I recognize it.

The minutes tick on as I wait for him, and any slight sound has my attention darting towards the elevator, hoping for him, but he never comes.

The post-game ceremony and celebrations take time, but it’s going on one in the morning. I assumed he’d be back by now.

I call him. It goes straight to voicemail.

I text. It remains unanswered.

It’s not that we need to talk and figure things out tonight, but he deserves to know I was at the game, supporting him as I always will. On the biggest day of his life, I don’t want him to question whether or not I was there for him.

The floor becomes unbearably uncomfortable around two AM, so after one more unanswered phone call, I finally give in and head back to my own place for sleep.

I’ll have to see and congratulate him another day.