That wasn’t all that circled my thoughts on loop: Darren. Mr. Langley—or whatever version of him had crawled back from the dead. Why Mom had been called back. Why he’d been slotted into Dunn’s side of the chessboard, working for the Kings’ rivals after Lorne’s betrayal in the form of a gunshot wound. But knowing that didn’t make it clearer. It just made me more certain of one thing: we were pawns in someone else’s game—and pawns got sacrificed.
For now, though, I held on to the reprieve. I held on to Luke. The time we stole outside of school. The moments when the weight slid off my shoulders just enough to breathe again.
I’d never stopped loving him. Not when I left. Not when I came back. Not even through the worst of it. Luke was larger than life—yes—but more than that, he wasmine. He was the one who steadied me when everything else tilted. And even though we’d gone through hell the second I set foot in Blackwood again, things were shifting. Smoothing out.
He’d let me back in. And I’d chosen to do the same. To tell him the truth I had, even if it wasn’t everything. What I’d learned about Dunn buying up King Enterprises stock on the sly. Why we’d left. Why we’d come back. At least the pieces I knew.
I leaned against the side of Luke’s SUV in the arena’s lot. The arena lights burned overhead, a harsh white glow flattening everything into shadow and glare. Each time the doors opened, bright rink light cut across the lot before snapping shut again, shadows elongating once more.
They came in groups, sticks slung over shoulders, hockey bags banging against their legs. Jax tossed me a mock salute on his way past. Theo gave me one of his lazy grins. A couple of theyounger guys lifted their chins in recognition. No one lingered. And then Luke.
His hair was still damp from the shower, shirt pulled tight across shoulders worn down by two hours of drills. He clapped a teammate on the back, muttered something that made the guy laugh, then glanced over. His eyes locked on me, and the rest of the lot fell away.
I’d texted him before practice ended—Meet me outside. I want to show you something.
So when he spotted me leaning against his SUV, he wasn’t surprised. Just focused.
“Hey,” he said, voice low when he reached me, as if it was just ours.
“Hey.” My pulse stuttered. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” His eyes searched mine. “Where to?”
He said bye to the guys, a few of them waving toward me before peeling off to their cars. Luke unlocked the SUV with a beep, but I shook my head.
“Not here,” I murmured. “Come back to my house, just for a few minutes. I want to show you something.”
We parked a few blocks over, where no one would notice his SUV in front of my house. My mom’s car was already in the drive. The glow of the TV flickered blue across the front windows.
Luke raised a brow. “Your mom’s home.”
“I know.” My voice was steady. “Back way.”
He followed without question, hands tucked in his hoodie pocket, boots silent on the damp grass. I led him to the side yard, fingers brushing against cold siding as I climbed the trellis. My bedroom window slid open on the second try. I slipped inside first, heart pounding, then turned and reached for him.
Luke grinned—half challenge, half thrill—and hauled himself up with an easy grace that was so him it didn’t surprise me atall. He landed inside my room with a muffled thud, scanning the space before locking eyes with me again.
The TV hummed faintly downstairs. A laugh track floated up, cover noise. We didn’t speak. Not until I crossed to the easel in the corner and tugged the drop cloth away.
Oil paint—thick strokes, layers built slow until the image came alive.
A night sky, star-salted and endless. A rooftop cutting black against it. Two silhouettes lying side by side.
Luke’s breath shifted behind me, heavier. He stepped closer, the heat of him reaching me before his hands did.
His voice was thick when it finally came. “Is that us?”
I nodded. “Painting’s just… part of me. I can’t turn it off. And lately, all that comes out is this. You. Us.”
What I didn’t say was that it had been that way ever since he entered my life. When I drew him, it felt like opening a window into his every thought and emotion. I saw things in my art he never let anyone else see.
He was there in an instant, arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me back against him. His chest was solid, his breath hot against the curve of my neck.
“Then don’t fight it. Don’t fight us.”
The words hit something deep. My throat caught. I turned in his arms, searching his eyes.
“Luke…”
