Page 80 of Pucking Forbidden

It feels good.

“Seriously, man,” Theo says, using his stick to tap a stray puck against the boards. “You’ve got a gift for it. Hadley actually mentioned the same thing to me the other day when we were talking about the team’s training schedule. She said you…”

The second her name leaves his mouth, the warmth in my chest vanishes, completely replaced by a sharp, ugly spike of adrenaline.

I look at Theo. The kid is good-looking and charismatic, and I suddenly remember him and Hadley talking to each other on this exact rink, looking a little too close. A sharp, ugly spike of jealousy flares up in my chest before I can stop it. I try to shake it off, telling myself she’s not mine, that I have no right to feel possessive over a girl I literally pushed away less than twenty-four hours ago, but the thought of any other guy getting close to her makes my jaw tighten until it aches.

Theo must see the sudden shift in my face. The grin drops from his lips, and he raises his hands in a defensive gesture, a knowing, slightly amused look entering his eyes.

“Whoa, okay. Look, bro,” he exclaims, stepping back a couple of inches on the ice. “Before you use me to test the glass integrity, let me just clear the air. I have absolutely zero interest in Hadley.”

My eyes narrow. Is this kid a fucking mind reader?

“What are you talking about?”

“I know she likes you. A lot,” Theo explains. “Like, it’s glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes. That’s why I did it. I’m the one who swiped your extra jersey from the equipment room and gave it to her before the game. I told her to put it on.”

I stare at him, completely stunned. A harsh, disbelieving laugh slips past my lips. “You stole my jersey?”

“Borrowed,” Theo corrects with a wink. “And it worked, didn’t it? I saw the way you looked up at the stands during warmups. You looked like a man possessed.”

The humor drops out of Theo’s face, replaced by something heavy and laced with old pain. He looks down at the ice, tapping his stick against his skates.

“Look, bro...take it from someone who knows. I lost someone I loved because I didn’t speak up. Don’t risk the regret. If you want her, fight for her.”

The words hang in the cold air between us. I swallow as they sink in.

“Think about it,” Theo murmurs, tapping my pads with his stick before turning and skating off toward the tunnel, leaving me alone.

The sound of the heavy metal door clicking shut echoes through the empty rink.

I don’t move. I stand there at the blue line, leaning my weight against my stick, staring out over the empty, gleaming sheet of ice.

Chicago made sense.

When I was in that office with Coach Williams, looking at the numbers, looking at the proximity to Mrs. Clay, it felt like the only logical path for a guy who has to protect his future. It still should make sense.

Standing here now, in the quiet of the rink that has become my sanctuary, with the weight of Theo’s words and the memory of Hadley’s lips sitting heavier in my chest than before...it doesn’t feel that simple anymore. A hollow feeling settles in my gut. I read him so completely wrong. I’ve been letting myself rot with envy, viewing Theo as a threat…a young, charming competitor lined up to take everything I wanted. I’d braced myself for a fight, completely blind to the fact that the kid wasn't trying to steal my girl or my spot on the ice.

If I leave, I’m not just trading teams. I’m leaving the only guys who ever treated me like a brother. I’m leaving a coach who cares about my well-being. I’m leaving the city that has a girl who looks at me like I’m more than a poor kid from an abusive household. She even wears my number like she’s proud of it.

For the first time since I started this entire agonizing process, I look out at the empty net, and I start to wonder.

Maybe leaving isn't the smart move.

Maybe it’s just the easiest way to run away before someone has the chance to leave me first.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: HALLOWEEN

HADLEY

It’s been exactly fourteen days since Julian Wilder blew my entire world apart in a dark, cramped press office, and for fourteen days, he has treated me like I’m a ghost.

He didn't just back off this time…he completely vanished. The texts stopped. The few tentative messages I’ve sent him over the last two weeks have been met with single-word replies that felt like a door being slammed in my face. It didn't help that the Night Hawks went on a grueling two-week away game stretch a few days after their opener. The stadium has been a tomb. The few times I actually gathered enough courage to go down to the rink to skate, the ice was empty, leaving me alone with nothing but the echoing scrape of my blades and my own suffocating thoughts.

I’ve tried everything to shake the memory of his hands on my jaw, the brutal, possessive heat of his mouth, and the devastating way he looked at me right before he walked out. I threw myself into my new routine, spending my mornings drowning in business and pre-law textbooks, and my afternoons either teaching skating classes or planning for them.

Nothing works. I can’t get him out of my mind. I miss him. It’s an ache in my chest that won’t leave me alone. A heavy, persistent weight that makes me feel more isolated than I did even when I was living across the Atlantic.