He didn’t.
Typical.
So now I’m here, half-dead, lacing skates in an empty stretch of the Wolves’ locker room, pretending my body isn’t screaming for water and quiet. The cold air helps. The smell of rubber and disinfectant and sweat helps. Ice always forgives me faster than people do.
Phoenix strolls past, tossing me a water bottle that I almost drop.
“You look like hell, Flint,” he says cheerfully. “You drink the river dry last night?”
“Didn’t touch a drop,” I lie, twisting the cap. My voice scrapes like sandpaper.
He snorts. “Sure. Try not to puke on my drills.”
By the time the whistle blows, I’m on autopilot. Legs moving. Hands quick. The hangover sweats out fast when you push hard enough. I need the sting, the burn, the punishment. It keeps my head from wandering back to the phone in my duffel.
We run zone scrimmages for an hour straight. Locke’s relentless. Every turnover earns a lap. Every sloppy pass earns a barked curse. I welcome it. The ice sings under me, the blades biting clean lines that slice through the dull ache in my chest. Every muscle screams, but I don’t slow down. If I stop, I’ll start thinking again, and thinking always leads to him.
By the time practice ends, steam’s rising from everyone like ghosts. I strip my gloves off, flex my sore fingers, and let the adrenaline fade just enough to make space for the headache again. That’s when Johnny slides onto the bench beside me, grinning like a man with gossip to burn.
“Yo, Flint,” he says, voice pitched low. “You see the feed this morning?”
“No,” I grunt, reaching for tape.
He’s vibrating with energy. “Rumor mill’s wild today. Word is the Ice Prince finally thawed.”
I don’t even look up. “You’re gonna have to speak in complete sentences, Johnny.”
He elbows me. “Hale. Apparently he’s dating Thorn. You know—Mr. Perfect-Teeth Defenseman? Someone spotted them leaving some place the other night. Looked cozy.”
My hand goes still on the roll of tape.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. It’s sharp, ugly. “You actually believe that crap?”
Johnny shrugs, eyes bright. “Photos looked legit. Unless Thorn’s got a twin with the same jawline and stupid hair.”
“Not true.” I force a smirk. “Trust me, he’s seeing someone else.”
That earns me a look—one of those slow, calculating ones that teammates trade when they smell blood in the water. “Oh yeah? And how the hell would you know that, Magnus?”
“Because I know,” I snap, too fast.
Now Jax, half-dressed and grinning, leans over from across the row. “Wait. Youknow? That sound suspiciously like insider information, my man.”
Johnny whistles. “Oh shit—don’t tell meyou’rethe someone else.”
The words hit like a puck to the ribs. For half a second, the truth almost jumps out of my mouth.
Instead I snort. “Dream on. Still with Elena, remember?”
Johnny laughs so loud Locke turns his head. “You and Elena are still a thing? I thought she moved to LA.”
“She did,” I say smoothly, tugging on my hoodie. “Long-distance. Complicated. None of your business.”
Jax stretches, all golden skin and tattoos. “Too bad. Would’ve been hot, you and Hale. Rivals to lovers shit. Fans would eat it up.”
I freeze mid-movement.
Johnny snickers. “Yeah, Ice Prince melts for the Flame. Netflix would buy that in a heartbeat.”
