Then I turn and skate back onto the ice.
• • •
I play like I've been lit from the inside.
Every shift burns.
Every hit lands harder.
Every stride is fuelled by the memory of Samuel's voice and Dain's name sitting filthy in his mouth.
I score twice in the second period.
Once off a rebound, pure instinct.
Once shorthanded, ripping it past the goalie so hard the net rattles.
The crowd roars. My team swarms me.
Leon slams into me at the bench, laughing, wild-eyed. "You're a fucking menace tonight."
I don't laugh.
I don't feel good.
I feel sharp. Controlled. Wired too tight.
We win by two.
When the final buzzer sounds, adrenaline still hums under my skin like exposed wire. Sweat drips down my spine. My knuckles ache.
I should feel victorious.
I don't.
When we get back to the change rooms. I slip my phone from my locker, finger hovering over Ivy's name, debating whether I should text her or not.
Fuck it. I start typing.
Leon claps me on the shoulder, muttering something about our win and I quickly delete the message, shutting off my phone as I tune back into the world around me.
chapter 13
Tip thirteen; know where the carotid artery is on your partner otherwise you may learn what a stroke looks like. Be safe.
Ivy
The arena is empty now. A far cry from the crowd that filled it only hours ago.
The rink feels bigger when it's quiet. I sit on the wooden bench in the stands, one skate half-laced, phone in my hand when it buzzes with a message from Charlotte.
Running late. Maybe 20–25 mins. Sorry!! I'll text you when I'm on my way.
I exhale slowly.
Of course.
I set my phone down and focus on threading the laces through the hooks, pulling them tight. The cold air bites at my fingers. It helps. It keeps my thoughts from drifting.
