Page 117 of Shots & Echoes

I focused on Coach Callahan as he went over strategy for the upcoming practice—his voice fading into background noise while Knox loomed large in my thoughts, making it hard to breathe beneath the pressure of expectation mixed with desire.

The moment Coach Callahan dismissed us, I felt the air shift. The rink, usually filled with the crisp sound of skates slicing against ice, now echoed with my racing heart. My teammates scattered, laughter and chatter filling the space, but I lingered, trapped in my own turmoil.

When I envisioned this moment—the jersey, the glory—I had never imagined it would come with such a heavy price. It terrified me to admit that now I wanted more than just the jersey.

I wanted Knox.

The way he looked at me with that mix of intensity and hunger made my pulse quicken. But it was more than physical desire; it was something deeper, more consuming.

What if I couldn’t have both? What if wanting him meant sacrificing everything I had worked for?

I leaned against the boards, staring at my reflection in the glass. My face looked familiar yet foreign—caught between girlhood dreams and this raw need that gnawed at my insides. The thought of losing my shot at Team USA twisted like a knife in my gut.

“Hey, Iris!” Brooke’s voice broke through my reverie. She jogged over, her brow glistening with sweat from practice. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah,” I managed to reply, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Just thinking.”

She tilted her head, scrutinizing me with an intensity that made me shift uncomfortably. “About what? You’re going to crush it next practice! You’ve worked too hard to let anything distract you.”

Her encouragement fell flat as Knox’s face flashed through my mind again—his smirk after our heated moments together, his hands on me like they owned me.

“I know,” I said quickly, brushing off her concern. “I just want to make sure I'm ready. That we're all ready. This is a team thing."

But readiness felt like an illusion when every time I pictured myself standing on that podium wearing the Team USA jersey, Knox overshadowed it all. What if he became a distraction? Or worse—what if he was exactly what I needed?

I peeled off my gloves, the cool air of the rink sending a shiver up my arms. The team had trickled off, laughter fading into echoes as I sat near the bench, feeling oddly out of place. My heart still raced from practice, but it wasn’t just the drills or the tension with Knox that kept my pulse quickening. It was everything that lingered between us—his presence shadowing my every thought.

“Hey, Iris!” Chris slid up beside me, his smile bright and casual. There was a weight beneath it that I couldn’t ignore. He always seemed to sense when something was off.

“Hey,” I replied, forcing a smile back as I shoved my gloves into my bag.

He leaned against the bench, hands in his pockets. “Bonfire’s coming up this weekend. You in?” His voice held an easy confidence, but I could see a flicker of something else in his eyes—a hopefulness mixed with uncertainty.

I hesitated. Shouldn’t I be focused on the upcoming practice and making Team USA? But as I thought about Knox—the way he had looked at me after our moment in the locker room—the heat radiating from him made me question everything again.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, guilt gnawing at me like an unwelcome guest. Knox was still lingering in my mind like a specter I couldn’t shake off.

But Chris continued to smile at me, and there was a comfort in that familiarity—the normalcy of his presence that felt like a breath of fresh air amid the chaos swirling inside me.

“Come on! It’ll be fun,” he pressed gently. “Just some friends hanging out by the fire, nothing serious.”

The idea of slipping away from all this pressure pulled at me like a lifeline. I needed normal—at least the illusion of it—for just one night.

“Yeah, I’ll go.” The words slipped out before I could second-guess myself.

Chris’s grin widened as relief washed over his features. “Awesome! We’ll have a good time.”

Before I knew it, he leaned in closer, but I barely had time to process it before his lips brushed against mine. It was a quick kiss, hardly more than a whisper of contact.

And yet, it felt like nothing. Just wrong.

I pulled back, my heart racing not from excitement but confusion. Chris’s grin widened, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He moved to step onto the ice with his teams, laughter echoing behind him as they took their positions for practice.

But when I looked up, my breath caught in my throat. Knox stood across the rink, and the moment our eyes locked, the world around me faded into silence. His face was carved from stone—hard lines and sharp angles that seemed to radiate tension.

His eyes bore into me, black with fury and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. The air thickened with unspoken words between us; I felt pinned under his gaze like a butterfly on display. His presence felt all-consuming; it filled every corner of my mind as I replayed our night together—the way he held me, how he made me feel alive in ways that had nothing to do with the jersey or glory.

And yet here was Chris—sweet and safe—and all I could think about was how wrong it felt for him to kiss me when Knox was right there, watching.