Page 97 of Keep Me Close

What if it became the place I stayed?

34

Knox

The puck drops and the arena erupts. Noise crashes in from every direction. There’s the roar of the crowd, the sharp crack of sticks on ice, the thud of bodies slamming into the boards. The energy in the building is electric. It’s the kind that gets under your skin, making it impossible to stand still.

Normally, the second I step onto the ice, everything else disappears. That’s how I’ve always played. Focused and locked in.

But that’s not the case tonight.

Every time I skate past the glass high above the ice, my gaze zeroes in on Cheyenne. She stands between Callie and Rina, wrapped in my name and number, her hair falling over one shoulder as she smiles at something one of them says. She looks relaxed. Maybe still a little shy but far more at ease than she was when she first met Kia.

It’s not just that she’s here. It’s that she’s here in my world, fitting in like she belongs. I like it more than I thought possible.

A cluster of fans near the glass behind the bench point toward the suite. A few phones are already out as pictures are taken. I know exactly what that means. By the end of the first period, Railers Rumors will have grainy shots of Cheyenne in my jersey plastered all over the internet with some outlandish headline attached.

No surprise there.

It was all part of the plan.

Fake dating. Public appearances. Let people see us together so they’d talk. And her ex would finally get the message and move on. Her at my game, wearing my jersey with cameras pointed in her direction, was exactly what we signed up for.

What I didn’t anticipate was the way my chest would tighten every time I looked at her or she smiled at me.

That thought ricochets in my head just as the puck slides my way. I react on instinct, cutting across the blue line and snapping a pass to Oliver before the defense can close in. He feeds it right back, and I take the shot hard enough to make the goalie jerk sideways. It clangs off the post and ricochets wide.

“Shit,” I mutter, pivoting and jumping back into the play.

On the next shift, I hit harder, skate faster, and push even more than before.

River glides past me between shifts, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You trying to win this game all by yourself?”

“Nah,” I say, adjusting my gloves. “Just trying to make up for the dead weight.”

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re in so deep.”

Even though I don’t respond, I know he’s right.

He claps a hand against my shoulder pad before heading back out. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

For the first time since I was a kid, I want someone to be proud of me. Someone other than my coach, parents, or teammates. Not even the fans chanting my name from the stands.

I want Cheyenne to watch me out here and see me in a different light. Not as the guy making headlines or the man everyone thinks they have figured out, but as someone solid and dependable. Someone who shows up when it counts. I want her to see that I matter out here. That I’m a difference-maker for the team. That beneath all the noise, there’s something real in me worth believing in.

Maybe that shouldn’t matter to me as much as it does. Maybe I shouldn’t care whether one woman in a suite high above the ice can see past the surface.

But it does.

And I do.

The thought has barely settled in before the whistle blows.

I coast toward the circle, catching my breath, when the guy next to me leans in. Knickerbocker. One of their defensemen. He’s big enough to throw his weight around, and clueless enough to think chirping is actually going to distract me.

He bumps my shoulder. “Putting on a show, McNichols?”

I barely glance at him. “How about you do us both a favor and worry about your own game.”