The Hockey Captain Wants His Plus-Size Ex Back

The day my hockey captain bf Cole kissed the cheer captain on the Kiss Cam. Eight thousand people were in the arena. Half of them were cheering. The other half were looking for me. Everyone was waiting to watch two-hundred-pound Mia Hart storm onto the ice and cry herself into an internet punchline. But until the ribbons fell all over the rink, I never showed up. After an entire summer without a single message from me, Cole finally panicked. What Cole didn’t know was that three months later, on the first night back at school— while he was cursing my name in the dorm, I, eighty pounds lighter, was lying in his teammate’s bed, wearing his teammate’s jersey. My hockey-captain boyfriend, Cole, was kissing cheer captain Vanessa in front of the entire arena. The Kiss Cam had found them less than two minutes after Lakeview University won the league championship. Their mouths met on the Jumbotron in a bright, merciless close-up, and the arena exploded. I stood three rows from the ice with Cole’s spare jacket folded over one arm and the protein shake he liked after games sweating in my hand. “Oh my God,” a girl behind me whispered. “Mia’s here.” A boy lifted his phone toward me. “Mia Hart,” someone murmured, too delighted to bother lowering their voice. “She’s going to lose it.” Of course they thought that. On campus, I was not just Mia Hart. I was Cole Mercer’s punchline. The two-hundred-pound girl who waited outside the rink with clean jerseys, packed lunches, and extra tape for his sticks. Everyone said I was obsessed with him. Everyone laughed and said I should know my place. No one knew Cole had been my boyfriend for five years. He said it was because hockey came first. Because scouts were watching. Because public relationships brought drama. He had promised me that after the championship, everything would change. Tonight, it did. The announcer shoved the microphone toward him. Cole accepted it with that effortless grin that made half the campus forgive him for anything before he even apologized. “Vanessa Blake,” he said, “will you be my girlfriend?” Vanessa covered her mouth, then threw both arms around his neck. The cheerleaders screamed. The hockey team howled. The entire arena turned into a celebration of a relationship that had apparently begun in public and erased mine in the same second. I walked down the steps. The noise around me changed. People made room because everyone wanted the best angle. I heard my name again and again, mixed with laughter, mixed with guesses about whether I would cry, scream, slap Vanessa, beg Cole, or collapse. Cole saw me when I reached the bottom row. Then he put his arm around Vanessa’s waist and pulled her closer. “Mia,” he said, voice low enough to sound gentle and loud enough to be heard. “Don’t do this.” I stopped in front of him. The cameras kept recording. “I know we grew up next door to each other,” he said. “And I know you care about me. I care about you too.” He paused. “But only as a sister.” A trace of disgust crossed Cole’s face, cold and unmistakable, before he continued. “You need to meet other people. You can’t keep clinging to me forever. It isn’t healthy.” Vanessa touched his chest. “Cole…” “No, it’s okay.” He looked at me with practiced patience. “She needs to hear it.” My fingers tightened around the jacket. Five years. Five years of late-night kisses in his truck. Five years of whispered promises after games. Five years of him telling me I was the only person who really knew him. Five years of waiting for the moment he would choose me without conditions. Now he stood under the arena lights and called me his sister. Behind me, someone laughed. “Brutal.” “Record this.” “Do you think she’ll throw the shake at him?” I looked at Cole for a long moment. He waited for tears. Vanessa waited for a scene. Everyone waited for the joke to finish the way they expected. I handed Cole the jacket. “Congratulations,” I said. The smile dropped from his face. For the first time that night, the arena went quiet. Cole stared at the jacket as if he didn’t know what to do with something I had returned instead of carried for him. Vanessa’s fingers curled slightly against his jersey. I turned and walked past them. “Mia,” Cole called, sharper now. I did not stop. At the mouth of the players’ tunnel, Easton Vale had just taken off his helmet. Lakeview’s right wing. Cole’s roommate. The permanent MVP on the ice. Easton was taller than Cole, broader through the shoulders, with wet dark-blond hair falling across his forehead and a fresh cut at the corner of his mouth. His gray eyes watched me without warmth. He had never been friendly to me. Not once. When I came to Cole’s dorm, Easton usually left. When I brought food, he ignored it. When I tried to say hello, he gave the smallest nod and looked away. Tonight, I walked straight to him. “Easton,” I said. “Can I have your number?” A stunned pause followed. Then Cole laughed. It was not a happy sound. “Mia, stop embarrassing yourself.” I kept looking at Easton. Cole’s voice hardened. “Come back here. You’re making this worse.” Easton said nothing. His face remained cold, unreadable, almost severe. But beneath the damp strands of hair near his temple, the tips of his ears turned red. I smiled. “Mia,” Cole snapped. “Enough. Bring my jersey tomorrow after you wash it.” The old command landed between us. Familiar. Automatic. As if nothing had changed, as if I still existed to pick up whatever he dropped. Easton’s eyes moved past me to Cole. Then he turned and walked into the locker room without giving me an answer. Laughter broke out behind me at once. “Oh my God, she got rejected again.” “By Easton Vale, too. That’s ambitious.” “Maybe she thought he had a thing for girls twice Vanessa’s size.” Cole’s mouth curled, as if he was ready to join in. Then Easton’s voice came from inside the locker room, low and steady. “Come in.” The laughter stopped as if someone had cut the sound.

Easton shut the locker room door behind me. He stood in front of his locker, helmet tucked under one arm, his expression as cold as ever. “If you’re trying to make Cole jealous,” he said, “don’t use me.” “I’m not using you. I meant it,” I said sincerely. Easton looked at me for a long moment, as if he were deciding whether I was lying to him or to myself. “I let you in because I don’t like watching people laugh at someone’s body,” he said. “That’s all.” “I know.” “Then go home, Mia.” He turned away and opened his locker. The sharp click of metal made my fingers curl against my palm. Easton thought I had come to him because of Cole. Because I wanted revenge. Because I needed a new man to orbit after the old one had pushed me away in public. I couldn’t blame him. In my last life, even I had believed Cole was my whole world. That night, I had rushed onto the ice like a lunatic. In front of eight thousand people, I had cried and asked Cole what those five years meant. I asked him how he could kiss Vanessa after promising me everything. Cole had looked at me with disgust. “We’re just neighbors,” he said without the slightest trace of guilt, pushing my hand away in front of everyone. “She’s been obsessed with me for years. I felt sorry for her, so I was nice. That doesn’t mean I owe her a relationship.” Then he glanced at my body, his voice colder. “Look at her. Do you really think I would date someone like that?” Someone filmed the whole thing. By morning, I was on TikTok. By the third day, the video had twenty million views. #CrazyGirlMeltdownAtChampionship People edited sad violin music over my face. They froze frames of me crying and turned them into memes. They zoomed in on my body, on my shaking hands, on the way my jersey stretched across my stomach. My mother and stepfather saw it too. They said I had humiliated the family and threw me out for good. My mother tossed my suitcase onto the porch. Then, even crueler, she said, “Sometimes I wish you would just disappear.” Abandoned by everyone, I lost weight like I was trying to disappear inside my own depression. And still, I thought about Cole. I thought if I became as pretty as Vanessa, he would look back. I wanted to run for cheer captain. One apple a day. Black coffee. Ice water until my stomach hurt. I woke at four every morning to train. I ran until my vision went white. I practiced jumps until my knees bruised purple. I gripped the barre in the empty gym and vomited because there was nothing left in me to burn. The weight fell off fast. So did my life. On the day of cheer captain tryouts, I never made it to the mat. Someone locked me in a storage closet behind the gym. My blood sugar crashed. I pounded on the metal door until my nails split. I screamed Cole’s name until my throat tore open, but no one came. At the very end, when my fingers were numb and my body had stopped shaking, the door finally burst open. It was Easton Vale. He carried me out like I weighed nothing, his arms locked around me, his breath rough against my hair. “Stay with me, Mia,” he kept saying. “Look at me. Stay with me.” His eyes moved over my thin, shaking body, and for the first time, I saw panic crack through his cold face. “Why did you do this to yourself?” His voice broke. “You were already fine. You were good. You were cute. You didn’t have to become like this for anyone.” I remembered asking him, barely able to form the words, “Why are you saving me?” His eyes had been red. “Because I like you,” he said. “I’ve liked you for years.” Then he bent over me, his face breaking in a way I had never seen from him before. “All of you,” he said. “Before. Now. It was always you.” But it was too late. My last thought before the world went black was that if I ever got another chance, I would choose the right person. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the arena, watching Cole kiss Vanessa beneath the Kiss Cam. I had really been given a second chance. Now Easton stood a few feet away from me, alive, whole, still looking at me like I was trouble he did not want. He pulled his jersey over his head. I forgot what I meant to say. The movement revealed a body built by discipline and force: broad shoulders, defined arms, lean muscle shifting under pale skin. When he reached for a towel, the muscles in his back moved cleanly under the locker room light. My face went hot. Easton paused, then glanced at me. The coldness in his expression eased by a fraction. Not much. Just enough to make my heartbeat stumble. “Still here?” I lowered my eyes at once. “I’m leaving.” “You should.” He stepped closer. Before I could move, his hand landed beside my head, and he caged me lightly against the door. He did not touch me, but the heat of him surrounded me all the same. I panicked. “Wait—” “Wait what?” There was the faintest edge of amusement in his voice. I stared very hard at the floor. “Nothing.” Behind the door, Cole’s slightly irritated voice drifted closer. “Where did she go?” Vanessa answered softly, “You’re not actually worried about her, are you?” A pause. Then Cole laughed. “About Mia? Don’t be ridiculous.” His tone was careless, but a little forced. “She asked Easton for his number.” “She’s trying to make me jealous,” Cole said. “That’s all.” A teammate snorted. “You sure?” “Please. Look at her.” Cole’s voice lowered, but not enough. “Her body makes me sick. You think I’d want that?” Something in the locker room went still. Outside, Cole kept talking. “Three days,” he said. “Maybe five if she wants to be dramatic. She’ll come crawling back. Mia can’t live without me.” Another boy laughed. “That confident?” “She’s always been cheap like that.” I did not feel sad. Instead, I felt nothing but a clear, cold exhaustion. Easton slammed his palm against the locker room door. The sharp sound swallowed the laughter outside. “You should go,” he said again, but his voice had changed. I turned back to him. “Where do you train?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?” “I want to work out.” “Ask a trainer.” “I’m asking you.” “You shouldn’t.” “Why?” “Because if you’re doing this to get back at Cole, you’ll quit the second he looks at you again.” I met his gaze. “I’m not doing this for Cole.” Easton was silent for so long I thought he was going to refuse. Then he said, “North Athletic Annex. Six a.m.” I tried not to smile too brightly. I failed. “See you tomorrow,” I said. Easton looked away first. I saw his ears turn red again. When I opened the locker room door, the hallway fell quiet. Cole was standing there with Vanessa under his arm. His face changed when he saw me come out, something dark flashing through his eyes before he forced a laugh. “There you are,” he said. “Enough drama. I’ll text you later.” Vanessa’s fingers tightened on his sleeve. I walked past them. My phone buzzed before I reached the exit. Cole: Don’t be childish. Vanessa and I are just for the summer. You know I’ll marry you in the end. A second message followed. Cole: Wash my jersey before tomorrow. Then came a photo. Cole in the locker room mirror, championship medal between his teeth, shirt lifted to show his abs. I looked at it for three seconds. In my last life, that photo would have made me cry. Tonight, I thought of Easton pulling his jersey over his head. Of the hard lines of his shoulders under the locker room lights. Of his broad back, his damp hair, his red ears, and his voice saying, Come in. Cole suddenly looked ridiculous. Then I blocked him. Deleted his number.

The next morning, I arrived at the North Athletic Annex at six. Easton was already there. He was on the practice rink, skating alone. The summer campus was quiet, but inside the annex, the sound of his blades cutting across the ice was sharp and clean. He moved fast, stopped hard, turned, and started again. Every motion looked like it had been practiced a thousand times. I stood by the boards for a while. Then I changed into workout clothes, found an empty treadmill, and started walking. That was how my summer began. Easton trained on the ice. I trained by myself. He did not correct me. He did not encourage me. Most of the time, he did not even look in my direction. But he never told me to leave. The first week was hard, but not hopeless. I walked, then jogged. I followed beginner workout videos on my phone. I tried planks and failed after fifteen seconds. I practiced basic cheer jumps in front of the mirror and landed like a sack of laundry. People laughed. I was embarrassed, of course. I was still human. But embarrassment did not kill me. Quitting would. So every morning, I came back. I did not starve myself this time. I ate breakfast. I drank water. I rested when my knees hurt. I reminded myself that I was not punishing my body. I was taking it back. By the second week, rumors spread. Mia Hart had stopped chasing Cole Mercer. Now she was chasing Easton Vale. People said I could not live without a hockey player to follow. They said Easton would never want me. They said I was only using him because Cole had embarrassed me in public. Easton heard those rumors too. He still kept his distance. But I noticed something. He always left after I did. If I packed my bag at seven, he stayed on the ice until seven-oh-five. If I stretched near the door, he retied his skates for no reason. If a group of boys stood outside laughing too loudly, Easton walked out behind me, silent and cold, and the laughter stopped. One afternoon, I was practicing toe touches on the blue mat near the mirrors. I was bad at them. My legs would not lift high enough. My timing was wrong. Every landing shook the floor and made my face burn. Still, I tried again. That was when Vanessa walked in. She brought three cheerleaders with her. She had her phone in one hand. “Mia,” she said, smiling. “Are you training or filming a campus safety video?” Her friends laughed. Vanessa came closer. “I have to admit, you’re persistent. First Cole, now Easton. You’re like a stray dog, always looking for a new owner.” “That’s your habit.” I said. Vanessa’s smile twisted, anger flashing across her face as if she couldn’t believe I had dared to talk back. One of the girls sneered. “Maybe she should try not shaking the floor first.” I didn’t answer. I took a breath, reset my stance, and jumped again. Their voices were still behind me, but this time, I didn’t care. Vanessa lifted her phone higher. “Oh, that’s perfect,” she said. “Cole has to see this.” Before I could try again, Easton’s voice came from behind her. “Move.” Vanessa froze. She turned around. “Excuse me?” “You’re standing where she needs to land.” The gym went quiet. Vanessa’s smile stiffened. “Relax, Easton. We’re just talking.” “No,” he said. “You’re in the way.” For a second, no one moved. Then Vanessa stepped aside, her face tight. Easton walked to the mat. He did not look angry. He did not look protective. He looked the same as always—cold, calm, impossible to read. He stopped beside me and glanced at my feet. “Your stance is wrong.” I blinked. He stepped closer. “Feet closer. Don’t throw your chest forward. Lift from your core.” His hand touched lightly between my shoulder blades. My breath caught. Easton acted like he did not notice. “Again,” he said. I jumped. It still was not perfect. But it was better. Easton gave one small nod. “Better.” One word. My chest filled with something bright and embarrassing. Vanessa stood there with her phone still raised, but no one was laughing anymore. After a moment, she smiled coldly. “Cute,” she said. “Cole will love this.” Then she turned and left with the other girls. The door closed behind them. I looked at Easton. “You didn’t have to do that.” “I know.” “You said you weren’t training me.” “I didn’t say anything.” That was true. I almost smiled. Easton looked at the mat again. “Your landing is heavy. Again.” After training, he finally asked, “Why are you working so hard?” I was sitting on the mat, catching my breath. For a second, I felt embarrassed. Then I said, “I want to try out for cheer captain.” I looked down at my shoes and laughed lightly. “I know it sounds impossible.” “It doesn’t,” Easton said. I looked up. He pointed at the mat. “But your jumps need to be cleaner.” I stared at him for two seconds. Then I smiled. “Again?” I asked. “Again.” So I stood up. That evening, Cole was waiting outside the rink. He leaned against his car with his arms crossed. I knew before he opened his mouth that Vanessa had sent him the video. “You blocked me,” he said. “Yes.” “You stopped bringing me lunch.” “Yes.” “You stopped doing my laundry. You stopped waiting outside practice. You don’t answer my texts.” His gaze dropped to my gym bag, then returned to my face. “And now you’re letting Easton put his hands on you?” “He was correcting my posture.” Cole laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it?” I tried to walk past him. He stepped in front of me. “Mia, enough. I get it. You’re mad about Vanessa.” “I’m not mad.” “You’re trying to make me jealous.” “I’m trying to go home.” His face darkened. “Don’t talk to me like that.” “How should I talk to you? Like your sister?” Cole’s jaw tightened. For once, he had no quick answer. I looked at him calmly. “You told everyone I was just a neighbor. You said I was clinging to you. You told me to meet other people.” I shifted my bag on my shoulder. “So I’m meeting other people.” His eyes went cold. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” “What did you mean?” He did not answer. That was answer enough. After a moment, he lowered his voice. “Vanessa is temporary. It’s just for the summer. You know that. My mom likes you. You know me better than anyone. In the end, you’re the one I’ll marry.” Once, those words would have made me forgive him. Now they only made me tired. “Cole,” I said, “stop bothering me.” His expression changed. “What did you say?” “I said stop bothering me. We’re done.” Then I corrected myself. “No. We were never really together, were we?” Cole stared at me as if I had slapped him. Then he forced a cold smile. “Fine,” he said. “Keep acting. Let’s see how long you last!” I walked around him. Behind me, his voice followed, sharp with pride. “You can’t stop loving me, Mia. You don’t know how.” I did not turn back.