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He glanced down at my foot, shifting closer. “You should probably ice it when you get home.”

“Yeah,” I said, already thinking about how it would feel when the cold pressed against the swelling. But before I could dismiss him further, Chris caught my eye again.

“Want to grab something to eat? Just to recharge after practice.” He offered it casually, but I could feel the weight behind his words—an invitation layered with something more.

I hesitated. Part of me craved the normalcy of hanging out with him—a friendly distraction from everything else that cluttered my mind. But another part of me recoiled at thethought of stepping into that familiarity while Knox lingered like a storm cloud just outside my thoughts.

“Sure,” I finally said, surprising myself with how easy it had been to agree. The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them.

Not because I wanted to be with him—God, no—but because I needed to remind myself that there were other options. Other paths that didn’t lead straight into the storm of Knox Callahan.

As I walked toward the bench, the adrenaline from practice faded, leaving behind a dull ache in my foot and an emptiness in my chest. Chris smiled at me, his eyes warm and inviting, like sunlight breaking through clouds on a gloomy day.

This should feel good.

But it didn’t.

I forced a smile back at him, trying to ignore how wrong it felt. His laugh rang out like music as we walked together toward the locker room, lighthearted chatter bubbling between us. I tried to focus on what he said about school and his summer plans—anything to distract from how much Knox had invaded my mind these past few days.

“Seriously,” Chris said, nudging me playfully. “You’re going to have to show me your secret moves on the ice if I’m ever going to keep up.”

I chuckled, but inside, my thoughts spiraled back to Knox’s piercing gaze and that thrill he stirred in me when we collided during practice. That electric connection felt dangerous—like a spark ready to ignite something wild and uncontrollable.

Chris leaned closer as we approached the hallway that led to the locker rooms, his expression earnest. “I know you’ve been pushing yourself hard lately. Just remember you don’t have to do it all alone.”

The warmth of his concern should have settled me down; instead, it twisted something deeper inside me—a reminder ofhow easy it would be to fall into that safe bubble with him. Yet all I could think about was how desperately I wanted Knox's approval—even though he could destroy everything I worked for.

The moment hung between us like a fragile thread ready to snap under pressure.

As Chris talked about the latest game and his plans for summer training, I forced myself to nod and smile, trying to keep the conversation light. He had a way of drawing me in with his enthusiasm, and part of me appreciated that—especially when I needed a distraction from everything else.

But then, an uneasy sensation crept over me. A prickle at the back of my neck warned me I was being watched. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I tried to shake it off, focusing instead on Chris's words.

“—and if we can just nail those power plays, we’ll crush it next season,” he said, his voice bright with optimism.

I glanced away from him for a split second, drawn to the glass walls lining the rink.

And there he was.

Knox.

His presence loomed larger than life even through the reflection.

Our eyes locked. My breath caught in my throat.

He stood there, rigid as a statue—jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. It was more than just anger simmering beneath that cool exterior; there was something primal in the way he looked at me. Something possessive that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

A surge of heat rushed through me. My heart stuttered under his gaze, and I felt both exhilarated and terrified all at once.

“What’s wrong?” Chris’s voice pulled me back to reality, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Knox.

“Nothing,” I managed to say, though it sounded weak even to my ears.

Chris followed my line of sight but quickly dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

Knox’s intensity only deepened; he didn’t flinch or look away. It felt like he could see right through me—the vulnerable parts I kept buried deep under layers of toughness and grit.

I fought against the urge to turn back toward Chris completely, drawn into the magnetic pull of Knox’s stare like a moth to a flame.