Page 99 of Shots & Echoes

“She’s special, Knox,” he reiterated, his tone shifting from professional to personal. “You can see it in how she plays. But with talent like hers comes pressure—she’ll need guidance.”

A bitter taste crept into my mouth at his words. He never spoke about me like this. Ever. And as much as I knew she deserved, so had I.

“Just remember,” he said quietly, fixing me with an intense stare, “you can mold talent without crushing their spirit.”

I nodded again but felt the weight of my own secrets pushing down on my chest like a boulder. Because she was mine now—broken or not—and that reality made every breath feel heavy and electric all at once.

I gripped my coffee cup harder than necessary, the ceramic warm against my palm, grounding me when everything else felt like it was slipping. Dad’s words settled between us like a loaded gun on the table.Don’t break her.

Too fucking late.

I had already crossed the line, had already taken her in ways I couldn’t come back from. And worse? I didn’t regret a damn second of it.

Dad had no idea how deep I was in, how Iris had wormed her way into my mind, my skin, my fucking soul. She wasn’t just a player anymore—wasn’t just potential on the ice. She was mine, tangled up in something we had no business touching but couldn’t stop chasing.

And now here he was, telling me to be careful with her. To protect her.

He didn’t realize I was the thing she needed protecting from.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my expression to stay neutral, though my heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted to claw its way out. I couldn’t let him see it—the storm brewing inside me, the way his words had struck something raw.

Because if he knew?

If he even suspected?

I clenched my jaw and nodded once. “I hear you.”

Dad studied me, his sharp gaze sweeping over my face like he was trying to read between the lines. For a second, I thought he might push, might demand more. But then he leaned back, satisfied enough to let the moment pass.

“She trusts you,” he said after a beat. “Don’t let her down.”

I nearly fucking laughed.

Because that was the thing about trust.

Once you had it?

You could destroy someone with it.

The rink pulsedwith noise and movement when I stepped in the rink, but my focus tunneled in on one thing.Her.

Iris stood near the bench, a bright streak against the cold expanse of ice. But I wasn’t the only one watching her.

Chris Langley leaned in, too close, that easy fucking grin on his face like he had any right. Like he belonged there inherspace. My jaw clenched, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. He said something—some throwaway joke—and she laughed, but it wasn’t real. It was the same scene over and over again, after ever practice. And I couldn’t fucking help myself. I saw it, the way her smile barely reached her eyes. The way she held something back.

No one else would notice.

But I did.

The sharp edge of jealousy carved through me, dark and all-consuming. It settled deep in my chest, coiling tight like barbed wire. The way he looked at her, the casual brush of his hand near her arm—it sent something hot and violent crawling up my spine.

He had no fucking clue who he was playing with.

“Just talking about post-practice plans,” Chris said. Like I wasn’t one second from ripping him off the ice. “You should join us later.”

Iris hesitated.Justfor a second. Her smile twitched, flickered—uncertainty creeping in. She didn’twantto say yes. She didn’twantto go with him.

But she also didn’t say no.