Every chant. Every hit. Every missed call. It’s like it’s all planned out for one reason and one reason alone—to make Clay lose control.
The next whistle blows for a penalty that shouldn’t have been. The ref skates past the Kolmont bench, eyes a little too smug, and Clay’s head snaps up. He takes one step forward before the assistant coach grabs his arm.
The crowd holds its breath, and I do too. Because this is it. It’s Clay’s first game behind the bench. It’s his first true shot to prove everyone wrong, and they’re pulling out all the stops to burn it to the ground before he ever gets started.
My stomach twists. My palms sting where my nails dig in. I know what’s coming. I’ve witnessed it before, the way his passion and competitiveness come out. The temper he fightsto contain. I can practically see the headlines and that asshole reporter’s smirk.
And maybe worse, I can see what it’ll do to him.
My phone vibrates again. I pull it out of my pocket to check the screen, only to see a flood of notifications. Many are from friends from back home, along with my parents and Steven. Even a couple from Evan.
Each one feels heavier than the last, but I can’t bring myself to answer. Not when Clay’s out there trying to hold this team together while the Hawks take every cheap shot they can find.
They don’t even try to be subtle about it. Shoving too hard after the refs blow a whistle, chirping from the bench, anything to get under their skin.
Beside me, Summer leans forward, arms folded tight across her chest. “This is bullshit,” she mutters, shaking her head. “They know exactly what they’re doing.”
“I know.” My fingers twist in my scarf, knuckles white. “They’re trying to make him snap. Give the headlines what they want.”
Her hand finds my arm, grounding me. “He won’t. He’s got this, Tess. He won’t let them win this time.”
I want to believe her. I do. But the tension in his shoulders from here tells me it’s taking everything he has not to bite back.
The crowd feeds on it—every shove, every near miss—chanting his name until it’s less a cheer and more a dare.Hot-head Bar-lowe.
My phone buzzes again. I flip it face down without looking. I don’t even bother checking it this time. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I just need to send all the good vibes I can to Clay and hope he stays calm through this storm.
When the Hawks score again, the arena shakes. Summer curses under her breath. “They’re down one. Ten minutes left.”
Clay paces behind the bench, barking orders, his jaw tight. He doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t rise to the taunts. Just keeps his focus locked on the ice.
“He’s holding it together,” Summer whispers, almost to herself.
“Barely,” I say, my voice tight.
Every second drags. The Kings fight and claw their way back, tying it up with barely any time left. Then, with under a minute to go, one of their defenders fires a shot that ricochets off the inside post and into the net.
The crowd explodes.
I’m on my feet before I realize it, clapping and screaming. Summer grabs my hand, squeezing hard. “They did it!”
Down on the ice, the bench clears, players slamming their gloves to the ground and storming the ice. And in the middle of it all is Clay, standing tall.
Not the man the headlines painted. Not the one everyone doubted. His head lifts, eyes scanning the stands until they find me. The noise fades, the rest of the arena blurring into the background.
Summer elbows me gently. “He’s looking right at you.”
I can’t breathe because he is. And in that look, I can see every warring emotion play out on his face. He didn’t let them win.
The crowd roars again, the horn blaring, but none of it touches me. All I can think of is how proud I am.
Summer grins, leaning close enough to shout over the noise. “If that look gets any hotter, it’s gonna melt the ice.”
I roll my eyes, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”
She laughs, bumping my shoulder. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not eating this up. You and the coach just went public in front of half the state, and he just won his first game. You’re the coach’s girl now. You better own it, babe.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling. “We didn’t go public. Our relationship was leaked. There’s a big difference.”
