The hallway on the way in ran past the lower rows. I hadn’t planned to look. I did anyway.
Mila had worked her way down a section, close enough that I caught the flush still high on her cheeks. Avery tugged at her arm, talking a mile a minute, eyes locked on Jax. Mila didn’t wave—just met my eyes, the hit clean as a pass—straight on, no bounce, no wobble.
That look anchored me in a way I hadn’t had since… before.
Inside, the scouts and coaches were already working the room. Hungry with some players, shaking hands, leaning in. With others, their eyes glazed quick, and they slipped out of the conversation just as fast.
One stopped me, asked about the third-period goal, how I read the goalie’s pad. Nothing long. Just quick hits.“Good game, we’ll be in touch.”
Around me, Theo, Jax, and Chase all had their turns. Short talks, the same clipped rhythm. Follow-up calls and emails would come later. Offers were coming.
Theo thumped my shoulder. “You hear them in the stands? Sounded like they were going to shake the glass loose for you.”
“Playmaker pass,” I shot back, because he’d threaded that feed in the second as if he was passing fate.
He shrugged, pleased without showing it. “You made it count.”
Jax’s grin cut sideways. “You madethemcount.” He meant the college coaches. “Better not forget me when you’re big time.”
“You’ll be there crushing skulls,” I muttered, and he laughed, a sound that promised blood.
Chase, towel draped over his shoulders, didn’t say much. But he gave me a look that read pride then turned to strip his pads with the same care he put into killing a penalty.
I sat, helmet in my lap, blades drying, my pulse finally coming down out of the stratosphere. My phone buzzed in my duffel. I let it go. I knew what might be waiting—Coach’s clip, a message from a college coach, a text from my father with some strategic comment about Wharton and optionality. Or nothing at all from him, which somehow said more.
Michigan took up space in my chest as if it were a living thing. The ice, the speed, the demand. I wanted it. Not because it was a resounding fuck you to my father—okay, maybe a little—but because it was mine. A future I could choose that didn’t smell of mahogany and compromise. Wharton was control. Michigan was freedom. And somewhere in the middle—her.
Wharton could wait. Or not. He would see my side. Or he wouldn’t. Didn’t matter tonight.
What mattered was the ice. The win. That look from the stands. The way Mila’s hand could undo me and still make me stronger.
I stood and hit the showers, steam enveloping me. Water pounded my shoulders, turned the adrenaline into heat that ran out at my feet. I pictured Michigan’s arena—cold, loud, the kind of place that demanded you earn everything. I let myself visualize her there, warm palms, colder glass, that chin tipped up at me, a dare in motion.
For the first time in too long, I believed I could have it all—even with Dunn and my family still circling in the background. The program I wanted. The life I wanted. The girl who made me want it more.
I shut the water off and dragged a hand down my face. Time to choose what mattered, one conversation at a time. I toweled off, got dressed, then grabbed my phone.
Mila:Good game. That show-off move in the third was unnecessary.
Me:Had to show off for someone.
Mila:*eye roll emoji*
Me:You still around?
Mila:Yeah. By the side exit. Avery’s threatening to scale the boards.
I grinned without meaning to, shoved the phone in my pocket, and told the guyslateras I headed for the door. Everything else—college, my father—could wait. Mila was fifteen feet away, and the part of me that bent when she touched me wanted to see her more than I wanted anything else.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MILA
Avery didn’t need much convincing after the hockey game. I barely got out, “Let’s just wait for them to come out”—before she was already nodding, eyes bright, chewing her lip as if she was trying to keep a smile contained.
“It’s not like I’m dragging you into anything,” I teased, bumping her shoulder as we loitered near the side exit.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Dragging me? I’d climb the glass if I had to.”
