Page 108

Story: Pucking His Enemy

“And did you?”

I look up, jaw set. “No. But I’m not backing down, either.”

He nods. “You shouldn't. This isn't just a PR stunt anymore. Anyone with eyes can see it. You’re in it.”

“Too deep.”

“Then swim, man. Don’t drown.”

We're back on our bikes. Up the coast. The sea wind bites at my skin, sharper now. My helmet hums with the sound of speed and resolve.

When we part ways near the edge of town, Aiden throws me a nod. “First game’s coming fast. You need to get your head in the game—on the iceandoff.”

I nod. “I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.”

The road narrows as I take the long way home. Past the marina. Past her favorite cafe. Past every reminder that I walked away from something that felt like fuckinghome.

I park at a lookout. Kill the engine.

Griffin’s name coils in my chest like barbed wire—tight, cutting, impossible to breathe around. If he comes for blood, I’ll give him a reason to bleed first. He’s got this shit all wrong.

I didn’t fall into this. I didn’t plan it.

But I need her

That’s what messes with my head the most—how easy it is to fall. How hard it is to imagine climbing back out.

I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over her name.

I don’t edit. Don’t overthink it.

Can we talk? —L

I hit send.

Because this time—I’m not backing down.

This time—I’m showing the fuck up.

Chapter thirty-one

Katarina

Notetoself:whenyour body starts staging a revolt, maybe listen to it before you end up face-first in a trash can at work.

It hits me somewhere between the dull throb behind my eyes and the attempt at a rookie nutritional analysis.

I should’ve stayed home.

But the Cyclones’ hydration and nutrition profiles are due before the opener, and I’m the only one who can compile the stats, input the macros, and send them to the team’s doctor in time for pre-game clearance. So I drag myself in.

I make it until just after lunch. One of the rookies outside my door cracks a joke about pickle juice and tequila, and I’m halfway through faking a laugh when the floor tilts sideways. I grab the edge of my desk, heart pounding, nausea climbing up my throat like it wants out.

I stand to take Kyle’s measurements. My fingers go numb. My face turns clammy. The new recruit jumps off my exam table and rushes toward me.

“You okay?”