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I could feel it in my bones—the tension between us had cracked wide open tonight, and there was no shoving it back into place. It was only a matter of time before we both crossed that line completely.

I let my gaze drift over the empty rink; the silence contrasting sharply with the storm still churning inside me. I could picture her leaving—hair damp with sweat, shoulders stiff with defiance.

But that fire in her?

That refusal to break, even when she should’ve?

That was going to bring her back to me.

She just needed a push.

And I’d be the one to give it to her.

I took one last breath, letting the sharp cold of the rink cool my blood. She would come back. They always did when you pushed them hard enough.

And when she did?

I’d be ready.

Chapter 11

Iris

The moment I stepped off the ice, the chill of the rink didn’t do anything to cool the heat radiating from my skin. Knox's hand lingered on my hip like a brand, searing me in a way I couldn’t shake. I could still feel the weight of his gaze, how it pinned me in place, how it made my heart race and breath hitch.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked down the dim corridor. The sound of my skates echoed behind me, a constant reminder of what just happened.

You can’t pretend you don’t feel it.

Those words replayed in my head like an insistent mantra. He had said them with that low, gravelly voice, like he knew exactly how much they’d affect me. And damn it if they didn’t slice through every wall I’d built around myself. I wasn’t ready to admit that he was right.

My heart pounded as I recalled the challenge in his eyes when he’d asked if I was going to play it safe or fight for what I wanted. Fight for what? The jersey? The dream? Or something deeper—something dangerous?

Anger surged through me, a hot tide crashing against the walls of my composure. How dare he assume he could rattle me like this? How dare he toy with my feelings while pretending it was all about hockey? But beneath that anger lay embarrassment—a shameful blush creeping up my cheeks when I thought about how much his words turned me on.

I pushed through the doors and stepped into the locker room. I kept replaying his smirk as he leaned in closer, so close that all I had to do was tip my head up and bridge that last bit of distance between us.

But no—I wouldn’t let myself go there.

Yet part of me craved it—the danger, the intensity, everything Knox Callahan represented.

I peeled off my gear, each piece feeling heavier than the last. The pads clanked against the bench, a sharp reminder of what I’d just endured. Knox's voice echoed in my mind—taunting, challenging. I hated how much it stirred something deep inside me. He was my coach, and he was dangerous; I knew that. But my body didn’t care about reason or rules. It craved the fire he ignited with every word.

The shower washed over me like a cold wave, yet it couldn’t cleanse away the heat that lingered on my skin. I stood under the spray, letting it drown out everything but my thoughts—the way his fingers had brushed against me, how he made me feel both powerful and exposed at the same time. I forced myself to focus on the water cascading down, counting each drop as if it could somehow ground me back to reality.

But reality felt distant now, warped by the tension that had filled the rink just hours before. As I lathered shampoo into my hair, memories of Knox’s smirk flashed through my mind—the way his eyes held mine like they wanted to consume me whole.

I shut my eyes tightly against the water and tried to breathe through the turmoil swirling inside me.This is wrong,I toldmyself again and again.He’s your coach.Yet every time I repeated it, something twisted in my gut reminded me that I felt more alive in those moments than I had in a long time.

When I finally emerged from the shower and dressed, the familiar routine felt foreign. Each movement seemed automatic as if someone else was going through the motions while I remained trapped somewhere else—somewhere with him.

The drive home blurred past in a haze of streetlights and shadows. My heart raced as though it had forgotten how to beat steadily without his presence nearby. It gnawed at me—the unsettling realization that part of me felt lost, left behind on that ice where our worlds collided.

As I turned into my driveway, a hollow ache settled in my chest. That part of me? It craved his chaos even while knowing it was wrong—and all I could do was wonder what it meant for everything ahead.

I lay in bed,staring at the ceiling, the shadows dancing in the dim light. Sleep felt miles away, taunting me as I tossed and turned. Every time I closed my eyes, his face flashed behind my lids—Knox’s mouth, that smirk that could ignite something deep within me. His hands had brushed against my hip, and I could still feel the ghost of that touch.

The memory sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to shake it off, to summon images of Chris instead. He was safe; he was kind. Yet when I pictured him—his smile, his laugh—it fell flat. There was no spark, no thrill. Just a warm familiarity that couldn’t touch the wildfire Knox ignited with a single glance.