Page 18 of Devil on Skates

XAVIER

I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE Irina, but I have to make sure my dad isn’t still around.

As I go toward my dorm room, other students pass me by, but I barely notice them.

My mind’s stuck back in that storage room with Irina, replaying the moments that feel both unreal and more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.

The taste of her is still on my lips, along with the memory of our bodies connecting. For someone like me, who’s always been all about control, strategy, and clear goals, this raw, unfiltered need for someone else is kind of terrifying.

But strangely enough, it feels like clarity and like I finally figured out something important that I didn’t even know I was missing.

One glance at my phone tells me my dad has been trying to reach me, but I’m not ready to deal with his anger and his lectures.

Ignoring both my dad and Coach is dangerous, but right now, I want to hold on to the weird kind of peace that comes from finally admitting what I really want and deciding to go for it, no matter the cost.

The dorm’s mostly dark as I get closer. Most people are either still out having fun or studying. I stride down the hallway with my keys already out, ready to get inside.

When I open my door, it’s pitch black, and I get a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Before I can even hit the light switch, someone slams into me from the side, pushing me against the wall hard enough to throw me off balance. An arm presses against my throat, almost choking me.

The lights flick on, blinding me for a second before my eyes adjust. My dad’s face is right in front of mine, his gray eyes full of rage. His expensive suit is still perfect despite the shove, and he carries that same power and authority I’ve known all my life.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarls. “I’ve been calling you for hours!”

The pressure on my throat, the anger in his eyes, and the shock of seeing him here make me feel like I’m sixteen again.

Back when I sneaked in late from a team party, thinking I got away with it, only to find him waiting in the dark living room.

The backhand caught me off guard and knocked me down.

The harsh words about how disappointing I am, how my behavior reflects on him, and how champions don’t waste time on stupid parties followed.

The next day’s training session with him was twice as long, even though I was exhausted and sick. He told me to keep going even when I threw up on the ice and almost fainted. The message was clear. Defy me, and you’ll pay for it.

My chest is suddenly too tight as heat creeps up my neck and my throat goes completely dry. I can hear my heartbeat resonating in my head.

“Xavier.” His voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. “I asked you a fucking question. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

I force myself to focus. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m stronger than him and I’m an adult now, even if money still ties me to him.

“I was out.” I keep it vague on purpose. “Why are you in my room?”

His eyes narrow, and the pressure against my throat increases. “Because my son is throwing his future away and clearly needs an intervention since he’s been ignoring me.”

I push back against his chest with enough force to break free and get some space.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can’t just come into my room uninvited.”

For a moment, surprise flashes across his face, probably because I dared to speak up. Usually, I’m quiet or compliant, playing along with his rules and never challenging him.

“Your room?” He scoffs. “Everything you have... Your education, your chances, the connections... It’s all because of me. Don’t make it sound like you’re fully independent.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. No matter what I’ve done in school or on the ice, he built the foundation of my life. Tuition, housing, future prospects... All of it comes through him.

“I know what you’ve done,” I say. “But that doesn’t give you the right to intimidate me or invade my privacy.”

“Privacy?” He sneers. “Is that what you need so you can go to parties and get into fights with your teammates over puck bunnies? You need privacy to ruin everything?”

Calling Irina a puck bunny makes me see red. “She’s not a puck bunny!”

“She’s exactly what I think she is.” He steps closer but doesn’t touch me. “A distraction. A problem. A roadblock between you and what you really want.”

He’s so sure that he knows me better than I know myself that it makes me grit my teeth. It’s always the same with him, because he’s convinced his plan for me is the only one that matters.

“You’re wrong,” I say.

His nostrils flare, and he slams his hand against the wall next to my head, the sound echoing everywhere. I flinch without meaning to.

“Don’t you fucking dare fall in love like some idiot,” he hisses. “Hockey is everything. It always comes first. Once you’re rich and famous, you can have any girl you want. This one’s not special. You just think she is.”

I want to argue, but I know that will just make him dig in deeper. “You don’t get it.”

“Oh, I get it just fine.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re young and you have needs. I’ll arrange some girls for you. They’ll be discreet, beautiful, and experienced. You can get all the tension out of your system without any complications.”

I gape at him. “What? No. That’s not—”

“You’re not stupid, Xavier.” His hand lands on my shoulder. “Don’t let some girl mess up your future. What happens when she’s gone, and all you’re left with is regret instead of trophies, huh?”

His words are bringing up the fears he instilled in me when I was a child. He taught me that without success, I’m nothing, and that my worth depends on what I achieve.

“I know what truly matters,” I say, keeping things ambiguous.

He studies me, probably trying to read if I’m really on board. After a long moment, he nods slightly, as if I passed some test.

“Good.” His hand moves to my cheek in a gesture that’s both gentle and a warning. “I’ll be at your next home game. There will be a scout in the audience too. Give him a reason to watch, or there’ll be consequences.”

The way he delivers the news that a pro scout is coming to watch me, with a thinly veiled threat in his voice, captures everything about our relationship. Every opportunity I receive comes with conditions, and every success only increases the pressure.

“I understand,” I say automatically, the response drilled into me by years of experience.

“I hope you do.” He steps back, straightening his suit. “Don’t fuck this up. You’re too close to everything we’ve worked for to throw it all away for nothing.”

Without another word, he goes through the door, leaving it open. His footsteps fade down the hallway, but his presence lingers.

I run a hand through my hair and breathe out slowly, trying to calm down. The weight of his expectations feels as suffocating and as crushing as always. For years, I’ve handled him by doing just enough to keep his support while having some independence.

But Irina is different. She’s something I’m not willing to trade for control or approval. I move to close the door, needing to reclaim my space after his invasion. But just as I reach for the handle, my gaze falls on someone in the hallway.

Irina’s face shows she’s heard at least some of what happened, and my dad wasn’t exactly quiet. His threats and insults were definitely loud enough for everyone to hear.

But how much does she know? Which parts? What does she think about the whole thing?

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, we just stand there in silence.