But no one else spoke up. Not Kira, who’d shared my protein shakes and pre-game jitters. Not Reese, who’d called mesisterafter our first win. They just…watched. Like I was already gone.
Practice started without him. The whistle blew—someone else’s hand on it—and the sound felt wrong, hollow, like an echo from a world that didn’t belong to me anymore. Paige handled drills, her smile too bright, voice tight at the edges. The girls skated in silence, our blades slicing through the ice like we were all waiting for something that wasn’t coming.
I kept scanning the tunnel, half expecting to see him stride out, jaw set, eyes on fire. He didn’t. The longer his empty office door stayed closed, the heavier the air felt.
Maybe he’d quit. Maybe Gideon had fired him. Maybe the avalanche online had buried him worse than it had me.
I forced myself through every drill, every pass, every shot, pretending his voice was still out there cutting through the noise.Again, Donovan.
But it wasn’t.
When practice ended, I sat on the bench, blades resting on dull ice, gloves loose in my lap. The rink lights hummed above, cold and steady.
I just wanted him to talk to me. Just once. To say something real—anything that would tell me he was still fighting.
I needed to fix this. I just didn’t know where to start.
Chapter 28
Calder
The bed was still warm where she slept, her breath slow and even against my shoulder. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
My phone buzzed against the nightstand like a goddamn alarm. I slid out from under her arm, careful not to jostle the mattress. The floorboards creaked under my weight, but she didn’t stir. Just buried deeper into the pillow, her dark hair fanned out like she belonged there.
I didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Didn’t matter.
“Shaw.”
Gideon’s voice cut through like a blade. “My office. Now.” A pause. Then, quieter, lethal, “This is low. Even for you.”
The line went dead before I could answer.
I lowered the phone. The screen lit up with notifications—texts, missed calls, a voicemail from some reporter. My thumb hovered over the first headline.
“Crestwood Coach Sleeping with Player… and She’s His Son’s Ex.”
The photo was grainy, taken from across the street. Billie in my hoodie, her hair still damp from the shower, her smile smalland private andmine. The caption didn’t need to say it. The way she looked at me said everything.
My stomach twisted.
I turned back to the bedroom. She hadn’t moved. One hand curled under her cheek, the other still reaching for where I’d been.
Let her sleep.
I dressed in the dark, my movements slow, controlled. The doorknob didn’t make a sound when I turned it. The hallway was cold; the floorboards groaning under my boots like they knew what was coming.
Gideon’s office. A firing. A scandal. The end of whatever fragile thing I’d built here.
I’d fix it.
I had to.
Before the vultures circled any closer toher.
The elevator doors hissed open like a warning. Gideon’s secretary didn’t even look up from her keyboard, just jerked her chin toward the double doors at the end of the hall.He already knows.
I didn’t knock.
