Page 42 of Ice-Cold Obsession

What if it was something else and not Gabriel?

And what if I’m just fooling myself because Gabriel is under my skin and I don’t know how to get him out of there?

Chapter 25

GABRIEL

I HAVE TO LOSE THEgame. The thought loops in my head as I lace up my skates in the locker room. I’m more than annoyed. Actually, I’m furious, but I can’t show it.

Zyair claps me on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

I nod and force a smile. Everyone’s expecting me to play well tonight, prove myself after all the drama, and show that I’m still the player they always thought I was.

But I have no choice.

I finish tying my skates and pull on my jersey. Around me, the guys are pumping themselves up. Taj is shadowboxing in the corner. Cory is listening to music with his eyes closed. Zyair is going over plays on his phone.

They all believe in us and think we’re going to win.

And I’m about to ruin it for them.

WHEN I SKATE ONTO THEice, the crowd roars. I scan the stands quickly and spot Scarlett in the front row. She’s wearing a jersey with my name on it, and when our eyes meet for a split second, she grins and waves.

Fuck.

The whistle blows, and the game starts. I move through the motions, keeping up with the pace, but I’m counting down the minutes until I have to throw the game. Every stride feels forced, and every play like a lie.

For the first few minutes, I play normally. I can’t make it obvious right away, so I intercept a pass and send it to Taj, who takes a shot. It bounces off the goalie’s pad, and the crowd groans. Taj skates back, shaking his head.

“Almost had it,” he mutters.

I nod, but I’m not really listening because I’m too busy thinking about what I have to do.

I skate back to my position, my mind working through how I’m going to do this without making it look intentional. It has to seem like I’m just having an off night. Bad luck or poor timing. Not sabotage.

Halfway through the first period, I get the puck. I’m wide open, and the goal is right there. The goalie is slightly out of position, and I have a clear shot. I can feel the crowd holding their breaths. All I have to do is shoot.

I aim wide. The puck sails past the net and hits the boards with a loud clang.

“Shake it off!” Coach yells from the bench.

I skate back into position, and Zyair gives me a look. I avoid his eyes and focus on the ice.

A few plays later, Taj passes me the puck. I’m in the perfect position again. The defense is scrambling, and I have an opening. This time, I fumble it. The puck rolls off my stick like I lost control, and it gets intercepted by the other team. They race down the ice, passing it back and forth, and before our defense can recover, they score.

The red light flashes. The buzzer sounds. The other team celebrates.

“Gabriel, what the fuck?” Taj shouts as he skates past me.

I don’t respond, just skate harder, pretending I’m trying to make up for it. But I’m actually betraying my team.

The first period ends, and I’m breathing hard. Not from exertion, but from stress. Coach pulls me aside during the break in the locker room.

“What’s going on with you out there?” he asks.