We’d burn brighter.
I woke to the muted sounds of the city drifting in through the window—distant traffic, the occasional honk, the subtle hum of life moving on outside. Sunlight stretched across the bed in soft gold, warm and quiet. Kennedy was still asleep beside me, curled into the pillow, her lashes brushing her cheeks and my shirt riding up over her hips. She looked wrecked in the best way—peaceful, undone, and mine.
For a second, I just watched her. Memorized the shape of her. Burned it into my brain.
But morning skate didn’t care how good last night had been.
I eased out of bed, moving quietly, every muscle still thrumming with the echo of us. Getting dressed felt like slipping back into armor after something holy. I scrawled a quick note before I left—Be back soon. Love you.—and left it on the kitchen counter. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was something. A tether.
Outside, the city greeted me with a sharp slap of cold. I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept my head down, moving fast. My breath fogged in the air as I walked toward the rink, heart already starting to beat to the rhythm of game day. The anticipation crawled under my skin like it always did before a big one—but today wasn’t just about winning.
Today was personal.
The locker room smelled like sweat, ice, and liniment. Comforting. Familiar. Axel was already at his stall, half-dressed and full of attitude.
“Look who finally rolled in,” he said, flinging a towel in my direction. “I was about to call in a search party.”
Luke grinned without looking up from taping his stick. “You still walking funny, or is that just the swagger of a man who got everything he wanted last night?”
I flipped him off as I pulled off my hoodie.
Greyson stretched on the mat, lazy as ever. “Hope you’re locked in, Maddox. Gary’s gonna be gunning for you.”
My jaw tightened. Just hearing that name put a sour taste in my mouth.
“He tries anything, he’ll regret it,” I said, my voice low.
Because Kennedy deserved peace. She deserved to breathe without watching her back, and if Gary thought he could mess with her again—on or off the ice—I’d bury him.
Axel leaned in, eyes sharp. “You think Jake’s gonna drop gloves? Guy’s been twitchy as hell since you claimed Kennedy.”
“He can swing,” I said, stripping down to my base layer. “But he won’t land shit.”
Because I wasn’t just playing to win anymore.
I was playing to protect what was mine.
Luke laughed, loud and careless, while Greyson just rolled his eyes at Axel like he was used to the theatrics. “You’re too locked into this love story shit,” Luke teased, but there was something behind the words—a warning laced with amusement.
Greyson didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “We need you focused today. That team’s coming for blood.”
I nodded once, not offering more. I knew what was at stake. This wasn’t just another game—it was the game. And if anyone thought dragging Kennedy into the narrative would throw me off mine, they hadn’t been paying attention.
I strapped in, tuned them out, and locked in. Morning skate was about rhythm, about finding that edge right before everything exploded into motion. The second my skates hit the ice, the world snapped into sharp relief. The cold was bracing; the noise muted—just blades carving into ice, the crack of sticks, the satisfying ring of pucks hitting net.
Each drill, each pass, every snap of my wrist sent a message—not just to the guys watching me, but to anyone out there who thought they could shake me by going after what mattered most.
Kennedy wasn’t a weakness. She was the reason I’d burn down the rink if I had to.
By the end, sweat clung to my back, adrenaline humming through every nerve like a war drum. We ran through plays under Coach Kakashi’s sharp eye, each of us locked into the same unspoken understanding—this game wasn’t just about stats or standings.
It was about pride.
It was about drawing a line.
As we circled up at center ice for Coach’s final notes, I kept my gaze steady, jaw tight. The game tonight wasn’t just a rematch.
It was a reckoning.
