Kyle deserves better than this half-version of me—the one pretending he’s not thinking about someone else’s mouth. I press both hands against the sink, bow my head, and let out a shaky breath. The tile’s cold beneath my palms. My reflection blurs when I blink.
What am I doing?
I tell myself I’m not that guy. The kind who lies. The kind who sneaks out to meet his rival and then kisses his teammate like nothing’s wrong. But the proof’s all here—in the tremor in my hands, in the ache in my chest that still carries Magnus’s shadow.
I peel off my ruined clothes and jump in the shower to wash the evidence of Magnus away, then slip back into the dark hotel room. Kyle’s already in bed, half asleep, a small smile still on his face.
Johnny snores softly in the other bed. I crawl into mine, careful not to wake either of them. But sleep doesn’t come.
The sheets are cool and unfamiliar. The air smells faintly of cologne and detergent. I stare at the ceiling, watching the dim city light bleed through the gap in the curtains. My heartbeat won’t slow down. Every time I close my eyes, I see Magnus’s face in that hotel bathroom—smug, hungry, desperate.
I think of the way he looked at me afterward, eyes dark and unguarded. The way my knees nearly gave out when he whispered my name. The way I hated that Ilikedit.
I turn onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow to smother a groan of frustration. My body’s tense all over again, craving what I shouldn’t want. My mind replays it in flashes: the feel of his breath against my ear, the rasp of his laugh, the way his gaze branded me.
No amount of self-discipline can fix this. No cold shower, no practice drill, no perfect game. He’s in my head now.
I reach for my phone without thinking. Notifications glare up at me in the dark—team group chat, a few fan tags, nothing unusual. Then, buried between them, one new message.
Magnus:Sleep tight, Ice Prince.
My stomach flips. He’s awake. Still thinking about me.
I shouldn’t respond.
But my thumb hovers over the keyboard anyway. I type outDon’t call me that… then delete it. Type again. Delete.
Eventually, I set the phone face down on my chest and stare into the dark. My pulse won’t stop hammering. Kyle shifts in his sleep, murmuring something incoherent, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
He’s the good one. The safe one. The one I could build something normal with if I just let myself.
So why does every version ofnormalfeel like a cage right now?
Because Magnus Flint is everything I’m supposed to hate—and every time I get near him, I stop remembering why.
? ? ?
The Hale estate sits on the edge of Silver City like it’s guarding the skyline.
Marble driveway. Three-car garage. Perfect hedges trimmed to unnatural precision. Every window glows golden against the late-afternoon snow, like a magazine spread titledOld Money, New Power.
I park beside my dad’s newest acquisition—some imported sports car that probably cost more than my entire rookie contract—and check my reflection in the window before heading in. My hair’s too neat, my sweater too stiff. I look like the brand version of myself, the one that belongs in his world.
Not the one Magnus Flint has been slowly tearing apart.
The door opens before I can knock.
“About time,” Molly says, grinning as she pulls me into a quick hug. “Mom’s been asking for you every five minutes. Dad’s pretending not to care, but you know he’s timing your arrivals.”
“Some things never change,” I mutter, kicking off my boots. The foyer gleams—polished oak floors, chandeliers, a massiveportrait of my grandfather staring down at us like he’s still judging everyone from the grave.
Molly laughs. “You could come straight from practice smelling like sweat and despair and he’d still check his watch.”
“Ididcome from practice,” I point out.
“Exactly.” She grins, her surgical scrubs swapped for jeans and a white blouse.
Even off duty, she carries herself like someone who holds people’s hearts in her hands every day. Because she does. Doctor Molly Hale, the prodigy who saved three lives before turning thirty. The family pride. The one who never needed to prove she earned her place.
