This is my first story here on I'm excited about this one. It's definitely my best work yet and I have big plans for this story. I really would appreciate reviews and criticism. Thanks.

Oh yeah, and for any of you who don't know, this is a story based on a NHL (National Hockey League) player named Wade Brookbank who currently plays for the Carolina Hurricanes. He's really awesome. (:

Disclaimer: Wade Brookbank is a real person. I have never met him and I do not know him in any way personally. This story is complete fiction, none of it is true and it has no relevence to actual events. I am aware that this takes place when he is in his early twenties and that none of this matches up to his real life. If you are annoyed or don't like this, don't read. I don't have time for the ranting from people that I don't know.

This is not a Slash story.


Wade Brookbank - You Put the Sun to Shame.

The Prologue.

The chill of the local ice rink swept over my skin and blanketed me in goosebumps.

Everything around me was black and I couldn't see a thing because the sun had yet to grace the outside sky with its presence.

I breathed in the smell of the fresh clean ice and I flipped the light switch on. The faint sound of the buzzing overhead light rung like a little annoying bee.

As I made my way through the stands and toward the rink, my feet ached to touch the ice and my hands stung with emptiness. I longed to hold my hockey stick and push a puck around. Quickly, I laced my skates up and walked to the edge of the rink. I slowly touched the ice with the tip of my skate. It sent chills through me to glide around. I loved this feeling. It was like gliding along without a care in the world, almost like flying if you get fast enough.

After all, this was the reason I moved to Lanigan to live with my Aunt Gale and Uncle Tommy. I moved to Saskatchewan, Canada to play hockey. That's what my life was. Hockey, hockey, hockey. Back home in Alabama, no one took hockey seriously, let alone actually know what hockey was. I had to move to a place where people played hockey and a place were I could get a scholarship to a college for hockey. My parents had agreed to let me use my last two years of high school in a school in Canada where hockey was their biggest sport. It just happened to turn out that my Aunt and Uncle had moved to Canada a number of years before and my Uncle Tommy was the one to introduce me to the sport of hockey. He had me watching every NHL game religiously.

"Need a practice partner?" A voice asked, scaring me half to death and pulling me abruptly out of my thoughts. My eyes snapped up and met the light blue ones of Wade Brookbank.

I took a moment to study his appearance. He stood there in a pair of black sweat pants, red sweat shirt, and his hair was cropped short for upcoming hockey season. His sharp skates slid through the ice as he skated over to me, an expectant look on his face.

Wade went to my high school and was the kind of guy that was most definitely going to make it in either the AHL or NHL. He was the It guy of the school, the same old cliché 'Every guy wanted to be him, and every girl wanted to be with him.' Of course, I didn't blame any girl that wanted him. I'll admit, he was pretty, well, cute.

At first, I was alarmed that someone else was here at 4:30 AM, but I then I realized he must have been here to get more practice time as well.

"No. I think I'm okay without one," I croaked timidly. I knew that with my luck, I'd embarrass myself if I had agreed. Something like falling on my backside or tumbling straight onto my face was bound to have happened if I had accepted. He nodded and turned away to practice by himself. I let out a breath now that he had his back toward me and I let my muscles relax again as I got myself into the Zone of practicing.

I resumed to my practicing. Shooting at the net, skating in serpentines, hockey stops, and ice flying up in my face. I sprinted on my skates back and forth to try to loosen my legs up a little more.

Apparently, twenty minutes later, I'd loosened my legs up too much. I had toppled over onto the ice from a rough patch that made my skate twist out of place.

"Owww," I groaned as I rubbed my back. Everything around me was a little disoriented until a hand was extended downward, gesturing for me to take it. I looked up, expecting him to have a smirk or at least holding a laugh in. Instead, I saw a genuine sorry expression. I took his hand gratefully and he helped me back up onto my skates.

I stared in awe for a second at his height. He was at least a foot taller than me.

When I was up and had my balance, a smile slowly tugged at his lips.

"Looks like you need pads even when you're practicing alone," he joked. Part of my personality thought that it was funny and the other registered it as being made fun of. Sadly, I didn't know which side would produce a response first.

Laughter bubbled up before I could get defensive, but it quickly ended.

"By the way, your two foot hockey stop is a bit messy," he pointed out. Suddenly, I felt that defensive side take center stage in my mind.

"Excuse me?" I asked rudely.

"Well, lock your ankles tighter. You're not stopping exactly where you should be, you go farther than you should and that's bad if you were doing a one-on-one with someone."

"So, what you're saying is that I can't do a hockey stop?" I was feeling angry that this guy was telling me what I should and shouldn't be doing.

"Kind of, but what I'm trying to do is help you out." He gave me a wink and for a moment my heart fluttered erratically, but that was quickly replaced by more anger. It felt like he was mocking me.

"Fine, you and I are having a one-on-one. We'll see who's wrong," I challenged.

"Okay," he replied arrogantly.

He skated to the blue line and I went to the center of the rink. I took a deep breath and slid forward, toward his intimidating body. A foot in front of him, I faked left but he predicted it so he went right and stole the puck right out of my possession. He was past me in a heartbeat and before I had time to react, he was at the other end, shooting the puck into the net. Wade let out a yell in victory, making my blood boil.

There was something about losing to the likely winner that made me mad. I knew that with my height of 5'2", I'd always be the underdog. This was why I was so competitive… I always liked the Seabiscuit.

"Again!" I was really mad now. He smirked and nodded, then set up again from where he started. I let out a breath and charged forward, letting my anger get the best of me. This time, I flew by him on his left side, but did a hockey stop. He lunged at me, thinking I'd be easy to catch. I got out quickly and went around his front side and past his right before he could make sense of what was happening. I shot the puck into the net with joy welling up inside of me.

"H-how did you do that?" He asked in disbelief. I laughed at his surprised expression but knew deep down inside that there was something hidden behind the stunned look.

Now for the beginning…

That was the first time I met Wade Brookbank. My story is not about how we fell in love, which is what you were expecting, right? You already knew that falling in love stuff was going to happen.

Wade taught me how to love. He showed me how to appreciate my family, past, and heritage. When I was fifteen and ready to leave the hillbilly central, I moved to the tiny Canadian town of Lanigan to pursue a sport that was by no means Southern.

Later, I found that sometimes family is there for you when you least expect it and Wade made me see that, even if it was a little too late.

Five summers later was three months of love, loss, and learning. With Wade, I felt the extreme emotions of pure joy and excruciating loss, but through thick and thin, Wade was there for me.
Wade Brookbank helped me through heartbreak and I love him forever for that.