I opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat with that practiced grace of hers—except tonight, there was something more behind it. The way she smoothed down my jersey like it meant something, like it gave her armor instead of comfort, made something sharp twist in my chest. She was wearing me, and I felt it in a way that was raw and dangerous.
She looked good in it—too good—and she had no idea the kind of fire that lit in my blood seeing her like that.
But beneath the surface, I saw it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched like she was bracing for something. And I hated that. Hated that she even had to prepare for battle when she should’ve felt safe just being by my side.
I slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The hum settled through me, but the silence between us wasn’t the comfortable kind—it was thick with unspoken things, nerves flickering between us like static before a storm. I didn’t press. Not yet.
The rink loomed in the distance—bright, cold, familiar. But tonight? It felt like a battleground.
At the next red light, I reached across the console and took her hand. She tensed for half a second—just long enough to make my gut twist—then relaxed into my grip. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles, slow and intentional.
“You’ve got this,” I murmured. My voice was low, meant just for her. My thumb moved along her skin, grounding both of us. “You’re not just with me—you are part of this.”
She glanced at me, unsure, and I saw it there—that flicker of doubt. And fuck, I wanted to rip it out of her. Tear down every lie she’d ever been told that made her question if she was enough. If she belonged.
The light flipped green, and I kept driving, the weight of the moment anchoring every breath. The closer we got, the more my instincts screamed to protect her. To make sure everyone in that arena understood exactly who she was, and who she belonged to.
She bit her lower lip, and my grip on the wheel tightened. That lip should never see her teeth again. Only mine.
We pulled into the lot. I parked and squeezed her hand one last time, lingering. “Just remember,” I said, locking eyes with her, “you’re not alone in this.”
I stepped out and circled the car to open her door. My heart thudded, steady and loud. I didn’t know what tonight held. But whatever it was, I wasn’t facing it without her. Not anymore.
We were walking into the storm together. And if anyone tried to come between us?
They’d learn real fast who they were fucking with.
Chapter 29
Kennedy
The arena loomed ahead, a fortress of noise and hostility. Every flashing light, every rumble of the crowd felt like it was aimed straight at me. The tension in the air crackled like a live wire, and my stomach twisted into knots. Fans crowded the sidewalk outside, their jerseys bright, their voices low and sharp with judgment. I stepped out of the car, flanked by an escort that offered no real comfort, and squared my shoulders.
This was it. Nick needed me here.
As I walked through the main entryway, the energy shifted—whispers caught like sparks on dry kindling and spread fast. I didn’t look around. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the stares burning into my skin. It felt like walking into a firestorm with no armor except the name across my back.
Two fans passed close. Their laughter was too loud to be casual.
“Look at her. Total puck bunny,” one of them sneered.
The insult sliced deeper than I wanted to admit, but I didn’t flinch. I clenched my fists and kept walking, smoothing down the jersey I wore like it was my shield. Nick’s name stretched across the fabric like a dare.
I made my way to my seat near the glass, head held high, heart pounding against my ribs in time with the arena’s heartbeat. The crowd’s roar grew louder, and every step I took felt like walking a tightrope over open flame.
Then came the popcorn.
It hit my shoulder with a dull thud, spilling kernels across my arm and into my lap before scattering onto the floor. I froze for a breath—just one—then turned my head slowly to see where it came from. Laughter echoed nearby. A group of fans in matching jerseys didn’t even try to hide it.
“Homewrecker!” someone shouted from higher up in the stands.
Heat climbed up my neck, but I swallowed it down. No tears. No reaction. That’s what they wanted—cracks in the façade. I wasn’t going to give them that.
I brushed the popcorn away and sat down, every movement deliberate. My hands trembled slightly in my lap, but I forced them to still. This wasn’t about comfort. This wasn’t even about pride.
This was about Nick.
He needed me here—visible, grounded, unshaken. So I lifted my chin and focused on the ice, where he’d be stepping out any minute now. My gaze locked onto the tunnel at the far end, the one he’d emerge from with that fierce glint in his eye, ready to take on anyone who dared cross him.
