“Come on, Leander!” someone shouts, frustration biting.
I grit my teeth, pushing harder, but it’s like skating against a current. And then Jax decides today’s the day to be an ass.
I see him out of the corner of my eye, the way he angles himself. He’s not going for the puck—he’s watching me. He swings in closer than he should, a reckless move that has nothing to do with the play. At first, I think it’s just normal roughhousing. But then his stick jabs low, catching the back of my skate just enough to throw me off balance.
My blade snags, my weight tips wrong, and I go down hard. The crack of my knee against the ice echoes sharp, pain flaring hot and immediate.
“Shit!” I hiss, curling instinctively. It’s not broken, but it throbs viciously, a bruise blooming under the pads.
Jax skids to a stop, laughing. “Relax, rookie, it’s just a love tap!”
The world narrows into white-hot pain and humiliation. I try to push myself up, but the sting in my knee makes me falter. I can already imagine the bruise spreading purple and black. My stomach twists with anger at Jax for being reckless, at myself for being distracted enough to fall for it.
And then Phoenix is there.
He cuts across the ice with terrifying speed, stopping so hard that snow sprays up. His eyes are dark, locked on Jax like a predator sighting prey.
“What the fuck was that?” Phoenix snarls. His voice carries across the rink, low but dangerous.
Jax blinks, taken aback. “It was a joke, man.”
“That wasn’t a joke.” Phoenix’s stick jabs the ice, sharp enough to echo. “You don’t trip your own fucking teammate for a laugh. You could’ve blown his knee out.”
The ferocity in his voice makes the hairs on my neck rise. He’s not joking, not exaggerating. His whole body is taut,shoulders squared, jaw clenched. For a moment, it looks like he might actually drop his gloves and go after Jax then and there.
Jax raises his hands defensively, grinning like it’ll smooth things over. “Relax, man, he’s fine. Look?—”
Phoenix cuts him off, skating closer, towering over him. “You think that’s funny? Risking his season—his career—for a fucking prank?”
The air around us is tense, the team frozen, watching. My pulse pounds in my throat. I’ve never seen Phoenix like this. Like he’s protecting what’s his. And it’s all for me.
Something tightens in my chest, equal parts awe and dread.
I manage to push myself upright, testing my knee. It throbs, but I can bear weight on it. I should say something, should defuse this before it explodes, but the words stick in my throat. My body’s betraying me again—because even through the pain, some part of me thrills at the way Phoenix is defending me.
Jax scoffs, shaking his head. “Jesus, it was nothing. You’re acting like he’s made of glass.”
Phoenix grabs Jax’s jersey, yanking him forward. The motion is sudden, violent, and for a heartbeat, I think fists are coming next. Jax’s grin falters, real fear flickering across his face.
“Try it again,” Phoenix growls, voice low enough only we can hear. “See what happens.”
The silence that follows is suffocating. The whole rink feels like it’s holding its breath. Then Phoenix shoves Jax back, releasing him with a disgusted shove.
“Get off the ice.”
Jax sputters, “What?—”
“Off. Now.” Phoenix’s tone is lethal. No room for argument.
And to my shock, Jax actually listens. He mutters something under his breath, skating off, but the tension lingers like static.
I stand there, chest heaving, knee throbbing, caught between the burn of humiliation and the overwhelming pull of Phoenix’sintensity. He turns then, eyes locking on mine. The anger softens, just slightly, when he sees me standing.
“You good?” he asks, voice lower, meant only for me.
I nod, too quickly. “Yeah. Just bruised.”
He studies me for a beat longer, like he doesn’t quite believe me. “Come with me.”
