“She knows who you are,” I hear Landon state as I head down the hall toward the kitchen.
Hopefully Leila was smart enough to at least leave the wine cellar stocked, because this is going to be a long few weeks.
Chapter Three
Tate
Landon fucking Kane.
After my injury, I was certain I would never cross paths with him again. How wrong was I? What makes it worse is his twin brother, Levi. He looks exactly like Landon, so my hatred runs deep for both of them based on that fact alone. They were both traded to the Cyclones, of course, since they’ve always been a package deal. Apart, they’re talented players, but together... they’re unstoppable.
When my brother told me they’d been traded to our team, a range of emotions tore through me. It was supposed to be me in Landon’s position. I had it locked down—sealed and signed. Yet one injury in college saw my entire career spiral down the toilet.
Which meant I had to pivot. And as my father would say: “Those who can’t, coach”—or something equally ridiculous.
My grandfather owns the team, and our entire family is intertwined with the Cyclones and the farm team, the Hounds.I’ve been content as the assistant coach alongside my father at the Hounds, working in the shadows and building a new life. But when my grandfather stepped down as head coach for the Cyclones, my older brother, Thomas, took over his position. Now here I am, on my first official day as assistant coach for the Cyclones, about to come face to face with Landon Kane, my fiercest rival. The man who effortlessly smashed every single dream I ever held. The man who now has my position on the team.
“Remember, tater tot, you earned this,” my brother Thomas says, placing a hand on my shoulder as we walk toward the arena.
I hate how he still calls me tater tot—just because he’s thirteen years older than me. The nickname feels like a constant reminder that he still sees me as the younger brother, not a professional.
I don’t respond, instead giving him a tight nod. The walk to the building feels like it takes forever, and my jaw is clenched so hard that tension radiates into my temples. When we get there, the arena is already alive with people.
This is supposed to be my moment. My chance to prove that even without playing, I can lead.
As we turn the corner into the main rink, Landon Kane is already on the ice, running drills with Levi. His movements are fluid, practiced, and fucking perfect. He’s bigger than I remember, not only tall but broad through the shoulders. His frame has been strengthened by years of professional hockey and training. He moves with that same arrogant confidence, the ice bending to his will. My chest tightens and my fingers curl into fists.
“There he is,” Thomas says, his voice upbeat, which makes me want to punch my own brother. “Let’s go meet with the team,introduce you formally, and get everyone on the same page about how we’re going to work together this season.”
I want to say no, to turn around and walk back out. I want to do anything except stand in front of the man who has everything I ever wanted, and makes my blood boil and my skin crawl with something I absolutely refuse to identify.
But I don’t. Instead, I follow Thomas down to the boards.
Landon notices us immediately. Or maybe he recognizes me, specifically. His eyes find mine across the ice, and for a moment, everything stops. There’s recognition, and his lips curve into a slow smile. Something in my stomach does a very traitorous flip.
“Tate,” Landon calls out, his voice carrying across the ice. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Coaching the big leagues now, huh?”
“Kane,” I say, my voice professional. “Congratulations on the trade.”
He glides toward us, stopping just short of the boards, his stick resting across his shoulders. Up close, he’s even more infuriatingly handsome than he was from a distance. His hair is dark, damp from sweat, and his eyes are a particular shade of blue that is so light and striking against the darkness of his eyelashes. The fact that I haven’t forgotten them is a problem I’m going to deal with later, much later. Possibly never.
“Thanks, Coach,” Landon says, and I don’t miss his tone. “It’s good to see you again.”
His eyes are pinned on mine, and I get the distinct feeling he’s not only talking about us being rivals. There’s history between us, yes, but there’s something else too. Something that makes my collar feel too tight. A spark I ignored through college, putting it down to the heightened adrenaline during the games as we faced off against each other.
“You too,” I say, turning to my brother. “We should brief the team on our expectations for this season.”
Thomas nods, launching into his opening remarks about the season ahead.
I can feel Landon’s attention still on me, and I absolutely will not acknowledge it. This is going to be a very long season.
The rest of training passes in a blur. I move between the ice and the boards, calling out drills, correcting form, and adjusting plays. It’s easier to focus on the game when I’m not looking directly at Landon.
“That’s it,” I call out. “Hit the locker room and get out of here. Good work today, everyone. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”
There’s a collective “Yes, Coach” from the team as they head toward the boards, their skates clicking as they make their way off the ice. Landon and Levi are among the first, and I deliberately avoid watching them leave.
Thomas claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “Good first day, tater tot. I’m heading home. Don’t stay too late.”
