Power Play Heartbreak

My heart stopped, my blood running cold. Chicago. Halfway across the country. A team with a reputation for chewing up veteran players and spitting them out.

I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed Gideon’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again, my desperation growing with each unanswered ring. When he finally picked up, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“Cass,” he said, his tone heavy. “I was just about to call you.”

"They’re trading you," I said, my voice hushed. “To Chicago.”

He was silent for a long moment, the line crackling with static. “I know,” he said finally. “My agent just called. The deal’s done. They’re announcing it at noon.”

My throat tightened, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Gideon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not your fault,” he cut in, his voice rough. “This is hockey. It’s business. You know that.”

“But what about us?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What happens now?”

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. “I don’t know,” he said at last, his voice hollow. “I just… I need some time. To process this. To figure out what comes next.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, my heart shattering in my chest. “Okay,” I whispered. “I understand.”

“I’ll call you,” he said, his tone final. “When I’m ready.”

The line went dead, leaving me alone with the dial tone buzzing in my ear. I sat there for a long moment, my phone clutched in my hand, his words descending over me like a shroud.

He was leaving. Not just the team, but me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I took an unsteady breath, my fingers tightening around my phone. I had a job to do, a story to write. The deadline was looming, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

But as I turned back to my computer, my vision blurred with tears, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. Gideon was gone, and with him, a piece of my heart I’d never get back.

The next few days passed in a blur of numb routine. I went through the motions at work, filing stories and chasing leads, but my heart wasn’t in it. Gideon was gone, traded to Chicago in a deal that had sent shockwaves through the league. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and I hadn’t tried to reach out, too afraid of what he might say.

The Strikers were scheduled to play the Blackhawks in Chicago the following week, a twist of fate that felt like a cruel joke. I’d been assigned to cover the game, and as I packed my bag the night before my flight, I couldn’t shake the sense that I was walking into a nightmare.

The game itself was a tense, physical battle, both teams scrapping for every inch of ice. I watched from the press box, my eyes rarely straying from Gideon in net. He looked good, focused and sharp, turning aside shot after shot with his trademark calm. But every time the camera cut to him, I felt a pang in my chest, a reminder of what we’d lost.

The Strikers won 3-2, the final buzzer sounding as the Chicago crowd let out a collective groan. I made my way down to the locker room area, my press pass dangling from my neck, determined to get a quote from Gideon for my story.

I was waiting outside the visitor’s locker room when the door swung open and Gideon emerged, his hair damp from the shower, his face an impassive mask. He froze when he saw me, his eyes widening slightly, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us humming with everything left unsaid.

“Cass,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I didn’t know you were covering the game.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” I said, my voice hushed and hesitant. “After… after everything.”

He took a step closer, his gaze intense. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just… I needed time. To figure out what I wanted. Who I wanted to be.”

I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs. “And did you? Figure it out?”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw it all in his eyes – the love, the fear, the determination. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

Before I could respond, he was moving, striding past me toward the now-empty arena, his hand reaching back to grasp mine. “Come with me,” he said, his voice urgent. “There’s something I need to do.”

I followed him, my mind reeling, as he led me out onto the ice. The arena was quiet now, the stands empty, the only sound the scrape of our shoes on the smooth surface. Gideon stopped at center ice, his hand still clasped tightly around mine, and turned to face me.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days,” he said, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “About my career. About my life. About you.” He took a deep breath, his grip on my hand tightening. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing this game. Chasing approval. Chasing something that always felt just out of reach. But the moment I met you, everything changed. You saw me, Cass. The real me. And you loved me anyway.”

“Gideon,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I—”

“Let me finish,” he said, cutting me off gently. “I’ve been traded. To a new team, a new city. And I could go. I could start over, try to rebuild my career. But the thing is, I don’t want to.” He reached out with his free hand, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you. I love you, Cassidy Reed. More than hockey. More than anything. And I’m not letting you go. Not again.”

He turned then, his gaze sweeping across the empty arena, and raised his voice, his words ringing out with conviction. “I know this isn’t how these things are usually done. I know I’m supposed to be the tough guy, the one who never shows weakness. But I don’t care anymore. I love this woman, and I’m not afraid to say it. To shout it from the rooftops if I have to.” He looked back at me, his eyes blazing with emotion. “Cassidy Reed, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. On and off the ice.”

I stared at him, my heart swelling in my chest, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Gideon,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give me another chance,” he said, his voice soft now, just for me. “Say you’ll let me love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

I nodded, a sob escaping my lips as I threw myself into his arms. “Yes,” I whispered against his chest, my tears soaking into his shirt. “Yes, of course. I love you, Gideon. So much.”

He held me tight, his face buried in my hair, as the arena stood silent around us. In that moment, there was no trade, no distance, no uncertainty. There was just us, and the love we’d found against all odds.

When we finally broke apart, it was to the sound of applause, the few remaining staff and players in the arena putting their hands together in a show of support. Gideon grinned, his face lit up with joy, and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Ready to go home?” he murmured, his voice warm with promise.

I smiled up at him, my heart full to bursting. “With you?” I asked, my voice teasing. “Always.”

We made our way out of the arena hand in hand, the gravity of the moment still hanging in the air between us. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the first hints of dawn painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold. Gideon’s hotel was just a block away, and we walked in comfortable silence, our fingers laced together, the city slowly coming to life around us.

In his room, we didn’t bother with the lights, kicking off our shoes and curling up together on the bed, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. I rested my head on Gideon’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, the sound more comforting than any words could be.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I murmured, my voice soft in the quiet of the room. “In front of everyone. On the ice.”

Gideon’s chuckle rumbled beneath my ear, his hand stroking up and down my back. “I couldn’t let you go without a fight,” he said simply, his tone sincere. “You’re worth more to me than any hockey career ever could be.”