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Lila nudged Jenna with her elbow. “You know what she means. He’s been hovering like a moth to a flame.”

“It’s just a bonfire,” I replied, shrugging it off. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly? Honey, that’s more than friendly,” Jenna teased, smirking as she finished taping her stick. “That’s the move, right? You guys have gotten coffee and lunch before, but this is different. That’s when shit happens.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their banter. For the first time in weeks, I felt like part of the team—not the golden girl or Coach Callahan’s prodigy—just one of them.

“Langley’s sweet. Safe,” Lila added, twisting her hair into a messy bun.

“Safe is boring,” Jenna countered with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

I laughed along with them, but it felt fake. The sound echoed in my ears, almost jarring against the backdrop of their teasing. I forced a smile, but my mind was elsewhere—lost in thoughts of Knox.

How nothing about him was safe.

He was a hurricane in a world where I craved calm, and the idea sent shivers down my spine. His intensity pulled at something deep within me, something that yearned for the thrill of chaos over the comfort of predictability.

I remembered the way he had pinned me against the lockers, his breath hot against my skin as he growled that I was his. That grip—possessive and commanding—made me feel alive in ways I had never imagined possible. There was no softness in Knox; every moment with him crackled with energy that both terrified and exhilarated me.

“Hey! Earth to Iris!” Jenna waved her hand in front of my face, breaking through my reverie.

“Yeah?” I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the memory of his hands on my body.

“You zoned out on us,” Lila said, her brow raised in mock concern. “We thought you were plotting your next move with Langley.”

I snorted at that. “Hardly.”

But even as I spoke those words, guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. Chris was so easygoing and nice—everything Ishould want right now. Yet all I could picture was Knox’s fierce gaze when he caught me glancing at Chris the other day.

It made my heart race and pulse quicken just thinking about it.

The way Knox made me feel was intoxicating and overwhelming, drawing me deeper into an emotional whirlwind I wasn’t sure how to navigate. It was wrong to want him this way, but how could I deny it? How could I walk away from that electricity?

Brooke breezed into the locker room, her expression a mix of mischief and annoyance. “Callahan Junior is on a real good one today,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she pulled on her skates. “Let’s get out there before he finds a reason to bitch even more.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at that. Knox had been relentless lately, and I knew it was partly because of me. Every time we were on the ice together, the air crackled with unspoken words and barely contained energy. It was exhausting—and exhilarating.

We all gathered our gear, slipping into our jerseys and tightening our laces as anticipation hummed in the air. As I finished up, I took a deep breath to steady myself. The weight of what had happened between Knox and me lingered in the back of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

Stepping onto the ice felt different today—like walking into a storm. Knox stood at center ice, his focus sharp, scanning us like he was assessing prey. His gaze landed on me for just a moment, enough to send a jolt through my body.

"Everybody, warm up!" he barked.

I began to skate, getting my footing. It always felt like coming home whenever I first stepped onto the ice.

“Faster, Evans.” His voice sliced through the chill of the rink.

I pushed off hard, gliding across the ice as adrenaline surged through me. But even as I worked to find my rhythm, his words followed me like shadows.

“Get your fucking head up.” He barked again when I hesitated during a drill.

The frustration clawed at my insides. It wasn’t just about hockey anymore; it felt personal—his anger laced with something deeper that neither of us dared to address in public.

“Sloppy! Do it again!” he commanded after I stumbled during a pivot.

My teammates shot me glances—half sympathy, half curiosity—as if they could sense the tension brewing between Knox and me. They were catching on; it was becoming harder to hide how charged everything felt when he was near.

I gritted my teeth and reset for another attempt. The pressure bore down on me as Knox watched every move with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Every shout felt like an order wrapped in an intimate challenge—a dare I couldn’t ignore even if I wanted to.