34
Oliver
After practice, not only is the locker room loud, it reeks of liniment and damp gear. Steam from the showers hangs heavy while voices compete, the guys talking over each other as they discuss our next away game. Laughter ricochets off the tiled walls, punctuated by the clang of sticks hitting the floor.
I drop onto the bench and tug at the laces of my skates as the wet leather bites into my fingers. I’m still riding the endorphin buzz from practice when Jax’s low whistle cuts through the noise like a blade.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls, his grin one of pure shit-stirring mischief as he waves his phone. “Look what Railers Rumors just posted.”
The laughter dies around us in patches, curiosity shifting like a ripple across the room. I don’t think much of it until Jax angles the screen my way.
As soon as I see it, my stomach nosedives. It’s the shot from yesterday, the one of Rina and me on the street.
The one I told her not to worry about.
I’ve got her pressed against the building, our faces close, hers tipped up toward mine, the flush in her cheeks impossible to miss. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and lips parted.
We’re not kissing, but we’re damn close.
Much too close to pretend otherwise.
My throat dries as my pulse spikes so fast, it’s almost dizzying. Every muscle in my body locks up, as if bracing for impact. The laughter and echoing noise around me dissolves. For a second, the whole room tunnels down to that one image. Her expression and the way my hand fits against her hip.
Fuck.
Across the room, Steele shakes his head as he raises one brow. “You better be careful, man. Evelyn will roast your ass if she catches wind of this.”
I swallow hard, but that’s not what has adrenaline spiking through me. I’m more afraid of what Rina will do when she finds out. I can still hear the edge in her voice when she said this could ruin her. The fear in her eyes is burned into me. The possibility of her shutting down and pretending that our relationship doesn’t matter hits harder than any check on the ice.
River drops onto the bench, rolling his shoulders back in an easy, unhurried way. “Well, that’s an interesting turn of events.”
Knox smirks as he yanks his shirt over his head, sweat glistening under the lights. “Come on, man. For months, he’s been acting like a second grader pulling the pigtails of the girl he has a crush on.”
“Know a little something about that, do you?” Jax fires back, smirk widening.
Their laughter bounces around the room, too loud and too easy. None of them have a clue what’s actually on the line.
I snatch the phone out of Jax’s hand and stare at the picture as my heart sinks.
“Appreciate the warning,” I say, tossing it back at him.
Their laughter fades into background static as my head spins. Any satisfaction I’d found on the ice is now long gone.
I bend over my skates, tugging at the laces until they’re loose enough to kick free. Pads follow, the Velcro ripping loud in the humid space. I strip off the rest of my gear in quick, practiced motions, every piece landing in a heap at my feet.
The only thought pounding through my head is that I need to get to Rina before this photo does.
If I’ve got to take the heat, so be it. If I’ve got to stand in front of her and take the hit, I will.
Maybe this is the turning point. The moment I stop letting the headlines define me and start writing my own story. Because protecting her and the life we’re creating together isn’t optional.
It’s the only thing that matters.
I shove my gear into my locker, grab my phone, and head for the door. Whatever’s waiting out there, I’ll tackle it head-on.
What other choice is there?
35
