Close. Not enough.
We cycled. Pressure mounted. Chase came in late on a backcheck and clipped Jax’s hip. Jax steadied, and Chasecaromed off the boards. The two of them locked eyes, and an entire history burned between them—brothers with a fissure running straight through.
“Move your feet,” I barked at Chase, breath heaving.
“Get off my back,” he threw, voice rough with something that wasn’t anger alone.
“Then cover your lane and I won’t have to.”
He planted his stick across my path, a dare. I should’ve skated around it. But I didn’t. I shoved through. We tangled, sticks clacking, blades snarling, both of us desperate for a fight. Jax cut between us with a shoulder and an expression that promised pain if we didn’t drop it.
Coach’s whistle shrieked. He didn’t say my name—he didn’t have to. Doubt rolled across the guys in a wave.
Our bench squinted down the ice. Stands weren’t full—it wasn’t that kind of practice—but the usual orbit lingered. A cluster of girls near the glass. A handful of parents up top. Elise perched two rows up, perfect profile framed, a phone balanced on her knee.
I made the mistake of meeting her eyes. She tipped her head, smile curved just enough to pass for kind. Not kindness. Inevitability. The look of someone already laying the next landmine.
She didn’t need to say a thing. By the end of the hour, those girls near the glass would carry the rumor for her—and by dinner, it would be polished sharp enough to sting: whispers about Mila’s family, about dirt buried under King legacy, about cracks spreading where no one wanted to look. Not the truth—just close enough to draw blood.
I drove into the next rush too hot. Puck on my stick, path narrowing, I cut inside a defenseman and felt my edge bite wrong. Skate toe caught. Body pitched. I crashed into the boards hard enough to jar my teeth. The sound went hollow in my skull.
For a second, the ice wavered. Then Jax’s glove landed heavy on my shoulder, steadying. He didn’t push. Didn’t lecture. Just stood there with the weight of a mountain and waited until I got my feet back under me.
“I’ve got it,” I muttered, teeth clenched.
“Then pull your head out,” he returned, low enough for me alone.
We finished the drill, practice closing on the fragile effort of holding together what was already breaking apart.
The locker room stank of wet gear and muscle rub. Metal benches rang as sticks hit. No one talked to me the easy way they used to. Words drifted past without resonating. Theo sat opposite, unlacing his skates in sharp, controlled motions, watching through his lashes. A reminder. A warning.
I peeled tape off with jerky fingers. Pulled my shirt over my head and missed the sleeve on the first try. Everything felt off by one degree, enough to make me clumsy.
Chase reappeared from the showers, hair dripping onto his T-shirt. He stopped in front of me, jaw hard. “You good?” he asked.
It shouldn’t have sounded like a challenge. It did. “I’m here.”
“Doesn’t answer the question.”
“We’re fine,” I lied. “You know it’s not about us—it’s about everything she’s stirred up.”
Chase studied me, a muscle in his cheek ticking, then shook his head. “Doesn’t look that way.”
“Rough afternoon. We’ll deal with it.”
Jax’s gaze flicked between us. Theo rolled a shoulder and went back to his laces. The room held its breath around my answer, and I gave it nothing. Chase nodded once—a ceasefire, not peace—and moved on.
I dressed in silence, dropped my gear bag by the door, and got out before someone forced me to sit and talk. The hallwayoutside the rink ran cold and bright, fluorescent lights buzzing at the edges. The air smelled faintly of coolant and disinfectant—manufactured winter in a town that barely knew the season.
Halfway down, Elise leaned against the wall. She didn’t block my path. She didn’t need to. Her timing was perfect.
“Tough skate?” she murmured, voice spun sugar, eyes sharp.
I kept moving.
“Must be hard,” she continued, “balancing two worlds. Family reputation on one side. A girl who comes with… complications on the other.”
I stopped and turned enough for her to see what lived behind my calm. She smiled, as if she’d won something.
