And then—he did. Slowly, like nothing was wrong, he pushed himself up and gave his jersey a casual brush-off.
A shrug.
I nearly screamed.
Seriously?
Was I the only one whose soul had just left their body?! Around me, the crowd went wild, none the wiser that I had just mentally drafted his eulogy.
He skated off like the prince of destruction, already ready for the next shift, and had the nerve to glance back up at me. And not just look. Smirk. Like, “Did you miss me?” Sir, I need you to stop playing chicken with my cardiovascular health.
But I didn’t yell. I didn’t wave. I just stood there, frozen, heart rattling inside my ribcage while he disappeared back into the chaos of the game. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to run down and kiss him stupid and also maybe tackle him for terrifying me.
Instead, I stood there in silence, gripping the railing like a girl who’d just realized what it meant to care about someone who had no problem throwing himself into danger with a smile on his face.
And I think… that was when I knew.
The buzzer sounded—an earth-shaking blast that sent the crowd into an absolute frenzy. It was like an explosion of cheers, screaming fans jumping from their seats, arms flailing, drinks sloshing, and me? I just stood there, hands frozen around my now lukewarm cocoa, heart jackhammering in my chest. Did they win? I think they did? I was too busy having a cardiac episode over Nikolai body-checking people like a mythological beast to really keep score.
On the ice, chaos unfolded in slow motion. Sticks raised, helmets bumped, gloves were tossed in the air like confetti. I felt like I was floating in someone else’s body—dazed, lightheaded, not sure whether to cry or scream or bolt straight into his arms.
And then a voice pierced the fog.
“Hey!” I turned to find Paige—cheerful, glossy-lipped Paige—waving at me from the aisle. “Come on! They’re heading to the locker room. You should totally go!”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Totally,” I stammered, blinking like I’d just been dropped from orbit. She flashed a thumbs up and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to figure out what to do with my cocoa, my anxiety, and my suddenly jellified legs.
I started walking, weaving through bodies buzzing with post-game high. Every step toward the locker room hallway made my nerves hum louder, like someone had turned the volume up on my internal monologue. What if he’s still in game mode? What if he doesn’t look at me like he did before the puck dropped? What if I say something awkward and ruin the whole “cool girlfriend” illusion?
By the time I reached the back hallway, the energy changed—less glitzy crowd chaos, more gritty victory hum. The air was thicker here, heavy with the scent of sweat, ice, and testosterone. The echo of skates being unbuckled and celebratory chirps bounced off the concrete walls. I hesitated, fingers curled nervously around the hem of Nikolai’s hoodie.
Was I really about to step into his world like this?
Then I remembered the way he looked at me before warm-ups, how he winked at me like I was his secret. How even after slamming into the boards, he got up and smirked like I was the only one watching.
And just like that, I knew: I wasn’t some background character in his life.
I was walking straight into it.
Chapter 18
Nikolai
The locker room pulsed with victory. Music thudded through the walls, towels snapped, cleats clattered against concrete, and the unmistakable scent of sweat and tape filled the air. It was loud. Unapologetic. Alive. And I was standing right in the middle of it—still wired from the game, still buzzing from the adrenaline—but none of it really touched me.
Because all I could think about was her.
Mina. Up in the stands in my hoodie, eyes shining like she belonged there more than anyone else in the arena. I’d caught her staring during warm-ups, nerves written all over her face—and still, she stayed. Cheered. Watched me like I was something worth being proud of.
Asher elbowed me on his way to the showers, grinning like an idiot. “Reaper’s got a girl,” he sing-songed under his breath. “Hope she’s got life insurance.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
“Seriously, though,” Weston called out, toweling off his hair. “That her in the hoodie? Cute. Weird choice, but hey, I guess everyone’s got a type.”
“Mine just has better taste than most,” I said flatly, but my lips betrayed me with a twitch of a smile.
Kellen cackled from across the room. “Someone write that down! Nikolai just complimented someone without sounding like he wanted to end them.”
