I’d never feared wanting something this clean. With her, the danger wasn’t scandal or exposure—it was that she reminded me of everything I used to love about the ice: the focus, the math, the fight. All of it burned away years ago, and now she wore it like armor.
The whistle blew to end the final drill. Billie raised her stick, called for a stick tap, and the girls echoed her, sticks rattling against the boards in sync. It wasn’t for me. It was for her.
I turned before anyone caught the look on my face, boots echoing down the empty corridor.
If I cared about her at all—about the team, about the shot Gideon handed me—then distance was the only play left.
The locker roomhummed with that post-practice mix of sweat and chatter. Sticks clacked against concrete, laughter bounced off metal. I stood near the whiteboard, clipboard pressed to my thigh, waiting for the noise to drop. It didn’t.
“Hey.” Nothing. I drove the whistle between my teeth and blew. The sound sliced the air clean. Every head turned.
I dragged a hand over my jaw. “Sit down.”
Benches creaked. A couple still half-grinned, thinking I might start another drill. I didn’t.
“Lakeshore’s coming again next week,” I said. “They’re better rested, bigger, think they figured you out.” I tapped the board where I’d drawn a lazy circle around the crease. “They’re wrong. But only if you fix this.”
Reese raised a brow. “Our penalty kill?”
“Your panic,” I answered. “You get pressured and stop talking. Hockey’s a language—when you shut up, you die.”
Kira smirked, whispering something. I cut her off. “You laugh now, you’ll cry when they run you into the boards.”
Silence landed heavy. Good.
“Every team can skate fast for twenty minutes. What separates you is what happens when the lungs burn. Body wants to quit? Fine. Brain can’t. The minute your brain goes soft, you’re done.” I hit the board again. “Stay loud. Call plays. Back each other up. That’s how you steal a win you’ve got no business getting.”
I let the words hang. Their faces shifted—cocky easing into focused.
I caught Billie’s eyes before I could stop myself. She held the stare, steady. No smirk, no softness. Just intent. I shifted the marker cap between my fingers.
“Look,” I said, glancing over the group. “You’re building something. Might not feel like it yet, but it’s there. You keep showing up like today, you’ll make noise in this league.” I paused. “But it doesn’t come from me. I draw lines; you decide what they mean.”
Reese leaned forward. “What if they start playing dirty again?”
I almost smiled. “Then you hit ‘em smarter. Hard when it counts, clean when it matters.”
A few grins appeared; tension cracked just enough.
“All right,” I finished, stepping back. “Hydrate. Stretch. Tomorrow’s film review. Bring notebooks, not hangovers.”
They groaned, but it came with that spark I’d been waiting for. Progress.
As they filed out, Billie lingered by the bench, taping her stick again, quiet. I didn’t look her way, but my pulse sure as hell did.
The rink had gonesilent hours ago. The hum of the compressors still vibrated through the concrete, a low heartbeat that kept the place alive when everyone else had gone home. I sat in my office with the lights off, the only glow coming from the boards outside—cold blue spilling through the small square window, carving shadows across my desk.
The whiteboard waited on the far wall, roster marker lines half-faded. I stared at her name until my eyes stung.
Donovan.
Even in black ink it carried a pulse. Every letter tight, deliberate, like everything she did. The rest of the names blurred behind it, faceless shapes in a season I hadn’t figured out how to want yet.
I uncapped the marker. The click echoed louder than it should have. My hand hovered, and for a second I thought about leaving it alone. Pretend I hadn’t noticed how good she was, how much the team already leaned toward her orbit. Pretend this was still about drills and not mistakes that could end me.
Instead, I dragged one straight, thick line through her name. Black on white. Final.
My chest tightened. It didn’t feel like control. It felt like erasing oxygen.
