“Yeah,” he says. “We’ll hang it.”
13
JAKE
Hubby
The rink smells the same as always. Cold air. Rubber. Sweat baked into concrete. Familiar enough that my body falls into routine automatically. Tape the stick. Lace the skates. Stretch the muscles that have carried me through every version of myself.
Captain. Leader. Control.
Except control feels like a lie now.
Because every time I blink, I see her.
Talia’s back against the pool wall. Her hands in my hair. The sound she made when I—
I squeeze my eyes shut and drag the tape harder around the blade of my stick than necessary.
Focus.
This is work.
This is the one place I’ve never failed.
“Morning, Romeo.”
I glance up as Declan drops onto the bench beside me, already geared up, already wearing that smug grin like he knows something he absolutely does not know.
“Looks like you had a loooong night.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
He laughs. “What? Just an objective observation.”
“I don’t appreciate the implication,” I say, focused on my stick. “I’m minding my own business. Taping my stick like a normal person.”
He raises a brow. “You just wrapped the same section three times.”
I look down.
He’s right.
I rip the tape loose and start over.
Declan studies me for another second, then lets it go, which is almost worse than the teasing.
Because it means it’s obvious.
I stand before he can say anything else and step onto the ice.
Usually, it clears my head.
Today, it doesn’t even come close.
We start drills. Basic movement. Passing. Positioning.
My body knows what to do, but my mind won’t follow today.
