CHAPTER ONE
CALLUM
The boards rattle like gunfire as I slam an elbow into a Barons winger trying to dig the puck out of the corner. The bastard’s been chirping all night, and I’m done being polite.
“Shift change!” Coach bellows from the bench, but the adrenaline’s already roaring. I flick the puck free, send it up the ice, and only then let myself peel off. The crowd noise swells. Half boos, half cheers. Normal for Barons fans.
My lungs burn as I skate to the bench, dropping into my seat and tugging at my gloves. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging. The scoreboard glares back:
Panthers 3 – Barons 2.
Two minutes left in the third. I should feel good about that, but all I can think about is the penalty I took earlier. It was dumb and selfish, two minutes for roughing that almost cost us the lead. Coach hasn’t said a word since, but I can feel the disappointment radiating off him.
When the buzzer finally sounds, it’s like a body slam. It’s a win on paper, but feels hollow in my chest.
The boys crowd the bench, sticks tapping the boards, slapping shoulders, swearing and grinning. I join in, because that’s what you do, but inside, I’m wound tight enough to snap.
I need air. I need out.
The locker room reeks of sweat and victory that doesn’t quite feel earned. Someone’s blasting Stormzy from the speaker. Ryan’s tossing tape balls at the rookies. Finn’s still half in his gear, chirping everyone about his assist. Me? I’m sitting in front of my stall, staring at the blade of my stick as if it holds all the answers.
“Cal, mate, lighten up.” Ryan tosses me a grin. “We bloody won. You look like someone nicked your last rolo.”
I grunt something that could pass for a laugh, but my heads already elsewhere.
“Talia’s in the car,” I mutter, peeling off my jersey. “Wants to get going.”
“Ah, right.” His grin fades, just a little. “That one’s… high-maintenance, eh?”
“Yeah.” I don’t deny it. “She’s…”
“Hot,” Ryan says. “And terrifying.”
“Both are accurate.”
I grab my bag, avoiding the knowing looks from the lads. They’ve seen her around. Perfect hair and smile, phone always out. “The hockey girlfriend,” Talia calls it. Always filming and posing. Always making sure people know she’swithCallum Fraser of the Manchester Panthers. And yeah, she’s gorgeous. She knows how to make a man feel like the centre of the room. Until she doesn’t.
By the time I climb into the driver’s seat, she’s already mid-rant.
“Took you long enough.” She flips down the visor, checking her reflection. Her lipstick’s immaculate. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?”
“Had to talk to Coach,” I say, starting the engine.
She gives a delicate snort. “You’re always talking to someone. Coach, press, your bloody teammates. I swear, I date a ghost half the time.”
I grip the wheel tighter. “You knew what the job was.”
She sighs, tossing her phone into her lap. “I know. I just,” She glances over, softening the edges. “I just wanted to celebrate with you, yeah? We won.”
Thatwegrates on me, but I don’t say anything. I shift into first and ease out of the car park.
The roads are slick, February drizzle turning to mist. Manchester’s streetlights smear gold across the windscreen.
“Can you believe they didn’t put me on camera during the game?” Talia says, scrolling through her phone again. “I was literally right behind the bench.”
I hum noncommittally, keeping my eyes on the road. She keeps talking about hashtags, follower counts, some brand wanting to send her free skincare. I nod when I’m supposed to. My head’s still back in the rink, replaying that penalty. I can hear Coach’s voice in my skull,stupid and reckless, you can’t keep doing this.
I flick the wipers on higher. The rain’s thickening, hammering against the glass.
