Eric laughs cruelly, “Oh, so rookie is your fuck toy, huh, Cap? Cameron wouldn’t be so up in arms if it weren’t true.”
I wrench Lee harder, as he tries to claw out Eric’s eyes, pinning him back against the glass, my chest to his spine. His breaths come ragged, his fists still clenched, his whole body trembling with fight.
And then he says it.
“I’m not his fuck-anything! He’s my partner.” His voice carries, echoing through the rink. “Phoenix is mine. And if anyone has a problem with it—” He jerks against me, eyes blazing at the team, at Eric— “they can look athimas the fucking example.”
The bench falls silent. Every player frozen, wide-eyed, helmets in their laps. The truth hangs in the air like smoke.
Leander breathes hard, chest heaving against mine. His hands shake, but his chin is high, daring anyone to speak.
No one does.
Even Eric, nursing his jaw, keeps his mouth shut.
My grip loosens on him slowly. My heart is a snarl of pride, fear, and something so sharp it feels like love cutting me open. There it is out in the open. No taking it back now. And fuck if part of me doesn’t want to kiss him right here, in front of all of them, just to hammer it home.
The rink is still dead quiet when Coach barrels out of his office, whistle dangling from his neck, eyes sweeping the chaos like a storm front.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Nobody answers. Nobody even breathes.
Leander’s chest heaves against me, his jaw set hard. Eric slumps on the bench, still holding his face, not brave enough to open his mouth again.
Coach’s eyes cut to me. “Captain. Office. Now.”
The team scatters like roaches as he turns on his heel, expecting me to follow. I give Leander’s shoulder one last squeeze—firm, warning—before I stalk after him
His office is cramped, and the smell of coffee and skate polish clings to the walls. He shuts the door behind us and crosses his arms, pinning me with that look that makes rookies crumble.
“Is it true?” he asks, bluntly.
I stay standing. “Is what true?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You and Cameron.”
“Yes.” My jaw tightens. “We’re together.”
Coach’s sigh is sharp, like he’s been expecting it and dreading it all the same. “You realize I have to investigate this, right? The league won’t tolerate whispers of favoritism. I need to knowyou haven’t been giving him special treatment—more ice time, different drills, bending rules.”
I grit my teeth. “You think I’d compromise the team for a relationship?”
“I think you’re capable of losing perspective.” His voice is cool, steady. “Your reputation isn’t exactly squeaky clean, Phoenix. Aggressive captain. Hot head. Now a romance with your linemate? The optics are ugly.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Leander earned his spot. He’s the hardest worker on this team, and you know it.”
His eyes soften slightly, but he doesn’t budge. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?”
The words cut sharper than a blade. I want to argue, to throw his doubt back in his face—but the truth is, he has a point. My whole damn career has been one long fight to prove I’m not the disaster people say I am. Now Leander’s tied up in it too.
“Dismissed,” he says finally, already turning back to his computer.
I storm out, chest tight, and find Leander waiting by the doors, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. He looks at me like he’s bracing for impact.
“What did he say?” he asks.
I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “They have to investigate. Make sure I haven’t been giving you special treatment.”
