He finishes tying his and starts on the other, and something— I don’t know why— pushes me to ask about his baby brother.
“How’s Noah, by the way?”
Zed tenses. It’s not dramatic or obvious, but I see the shift. It’s so small it’s almost nothing, but his eyes freeze and a muscle in his jaw dances.
Then his eyes lift, and when he looks at me, his gaze isn’t cold. It’s an absence of anything.
I try to play it off. “He still playing? Or did he decideto retire at twelve?”
Silence. A thick one.
Zed goes back to tying his skate before finally speaking.
“No.”
I blink. “No… he doesn’t play anymore? Or no, he didn’t quit?”
Zed rises to his full height and closes his eyes as he draws in a long breath through his nose.
He closes his locker door with a soft click, then turns to me, holding eye contact for too long—long enough that something cold slides down my spine.
“No,” he repeats.
He walks away without elaborating, and I stand there with a heavy feeling creeping up my chest as the silent shape of him disappears down the corridor.
Chapter seven
~JESSICA~
I don’t know why arenas always look colder than they feel. Maybe it’s because they’re packed, or maybe it’s the warmth spreading through me at the thought of seeing him again. I haven’t seen Dom since the magazine photoshoot, and when I didn’t hear from anyone for a couple of days, I assumed it was over. Until Tinnie called yesterday to say my presence was needed at tonight’s game, sent me tickets, Melody’s number, and… here I am.
We settle by the glass, and my stomach is full of bees—angry, vicious ones. Melody plops down beside me, sipping her soda. Warmups are happening, and everyone around us is already shouting.
I wipe my palms on my pants and sit closer to Melody. My gaze immediately drifts to the ice and sweeps, searching for Dominic.
I don’t know if it’s his size or the huge C on his jersey, but I spot him instantly, and my stomach does a somersault. He’s a force even in warmups.
And I haven’t spoken to him since we fought.
My chest caves in a little—what always happens when I go back to that parking lot. I force a breath out. The guilt from the interview still sits on my tongue. I didn’t mean to upset him. If someone made up a fantasy story about me, I’d feel weird too. But I didn’t say anything bad. It was all cute, romantic, and soft—things he very clearly is not.
“I’m always so nervous at these games,” Melody says, nudging me.
“Me too,” I reply, eyes glued to her brother.
“This is your second one,” she says.
I force a laugh. “It makes it even worse,” I say, glancing at her and then back to the ice. “Especially when—” I pause. “Does your brother stay upset for long?”
“Depends, why?” Melody raises an eyebrow.
I swallow, my eyes flicking back to Dom, who’s talking to numbers 7, 13, and 21.
How do I explain this? Does she even know about the… circumstances?
I pick the safest truth. “We had… a disagreement.”
“Ah. That explains why he’s been acting like a scarecrow these past few days.”
