Page 48 of Like a Power Play (Greenrock University: Icebound #1)

“But that night—that night was the first time I’ve seen you play even a little bit as yourself. You were tough, and fast, but you flowed. You were incredible out there.”

My teeth find the inside of my cheek, and chew. “Not according to Lexi Norwester,” I reply, trying to sound unbothered. She shakes her head.

“Lexi Norwester writes whatever gets her clicks. Whatever makes her money. You know that.”

I try to laugh, but it’s just a sad exhale. “I guess as long as she’s writing about me, she’ll always be making money. Everyone loves reading about me failing.”

Her green gloves find my hands and squeeze. “Not everyone.”

A dry ache forms in the base of my throat.

“It’s just like—” I shake my head. “I give everything to this sport. Every ounce of time. Like, an embarrassing amount of time.” A nervous feeling tugs at my stomach.

“I get maybe five hours of sleep a night. I don’t watch TV.

I don’t date.” A sad laugh slips out. “I’ve spent so much time chasing the pros, I’ve never even been in a relationship. ”

At that, Darcy pulls back, her brows shooting up. “Huh?”

I shrug, heat washing over my cheeks. “I’ve hooked up, I’ve gone on dates, but I’ve never actually dated someone.”

She stares at me in disbelief. “You’re kidding,” she says, like that would be a fun thing to kid about.

“I swear.” I raise a hand, mock-solemn. “Hope to die, or whatever. Zero official relationships.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow. “But you’re so—”

She cuts herself off.

Which, of course, only makes me want to know what came next even more.

“I don’t have time,” I explain. “Which, I know, sounds like an excuse, but it’s really not. Every minute I’m not practicing, I’m convincing myself I should be. Like if I don’t earn every second on the ice, I’m stealing it from someone else. Especially with my dad…”

My voice falters slightly, and I clear my throat.

“And if I’m not doing either of the two, I’m at some other event, showing up for everyone else, because it breaks my heart to think that anyone feels that way too.

That they don’t think they deserve what they’ve earned.

So… I go. To the parties, and the art shows and the study groups.

Because if I can’t be on the ice, then I need to be somewhere that matters. ”

Darcy studies me silently. I can see the neurons in her brain sparking behind her eyes, like the information I’m so chaotically dumping on her is something worth thinking about.

My heart thunders in my chest, heat spilling across my body in embarrassment.

And just as I’m about to apologize, the slightest tug pulls at the corners of her lips.

“That’s…” She trails off, like the words on her tongue are painful to admit. “Really sweet, actually.”

My eyes fixate on a crack in the concrete floor, and I hitch an awkward shoulder.

“Self-serving purposes,” I deflect. Darcy’s elbow digs into my ribcage, and it’s pathetic, but I’ll take any touch from her.

“Shut it,” she mutters, somewhat endearingly.

In the quiet of the locker room, her padded fingers tap lightly against the bench, the sound echoing softly off the green walls. After a long beat, she reaches down, unbuttoning a massive pocket on the side of her pants.

“Grabbing your Cheez-Itz?” I tease softly.

She rolls her eyes, her hand disappearing into the pocket, then pulling out what might be the largest book I’ve ever seen. Like, truly absurd. It’s huge, with red painted edges and some strange language script on the sides.

My jaw drops.

“What the hell is that?! The dictionary?”

A laugh slips from Darcy’s mouth, and when she drops the book onto the bench, it lands with a thud that rattles our seat like an earthquake.

“Lord of the Rings omnibus,” she explains, adjusting her position with another flash of discomfort. “Full series. Special edition.”

“Of course it is,” I mutter, studying the beast. I think it’s the same one Hammie has on her shelf. “You and Bailey would get along really well.”

A nervous laugh slips from her mouth, and she glances up. “Why?”

I shrug. “You just would. You’ve got the same kind of hobbies. I’m honestly surprised she and Cleo haven’t recruited you into their little dragon cult already.”

A laugh bursts out of Darcy. “You mean their Dungeons and Dragons campaign?”

“Yeah, that thing.” I wave it off. “You should totally do it.”

A quiet, awkward sound escapes her, and she looks away again, arms crossing tight over her chest.

“They asked,” she explains, the words coming slower now. “But I said no.”

I raise a brow. “Why? Not into board games?”

“It’s not a board game,” she replies, then meets my eyes again. “And I don’t know. Just… seems like a lot.”

I study her. Her fingers dig into her biceps, her eyes skimming the room to avoid my gaze. The corner of my mouth twists, just slightly.

“You don’t like people, huh?”

Her gaze snaps to mine defensively.

“That’s not true,” she snaps. “I just don’t trust them.”

I don’t mind the cutting edge in her voice. In fact, I’ve grown to like it.

Greenrock Valley is full of coyotes. Completely overrun. When I was little, we used to strap a spiked vest onto our dog before letting her outside to keep her safe. It was the first time I realized sharp things aren't always meant to hurt. Sometimes, they're meant to protect.

I think Darcy’s like that.

“Is that because of what happened in Minnesota?” I ask wearily.

Her body tenses, but she doesn’t pull away from me. Instead, she exhales, then slips her fingers between the pages of the book and flips it open.

There, wedged between two pages, is a photograph.

It’s slightly dusty, worn around the edges. She pulls it out and hands it to me.

I lift the hem of my shirt, using it to clear away the dust.

It’s her, in a purple and yellow Minnesota State jersey, hair damp with sweat. You can tell she’d just played hard. And something about that causes a low heat to spread through my chest. Seeing her on the ice lately, I’ve been feeling that a lot.

She’s gripping her stick, bag slung beside her, and her jersey number—get this—is 11 .

I don’t even need to point it out. The flutter in my stomach is enough of a reward.

My eyes journey through the photo, looking at all the little details. I squint, fixing my gaze on her hands, where glittering pink polish shines back at me.

“You wear nail polish?” I ask curiously. I imagine that little flash of pink trailing down my bare skin, cupping my jaw, slipping inside of me. I had never considered painted nails a possibility when that was happening, but now, suddenly, it’s all I can think about.

“Not anymore,” she answers. “No point, really.”

She reaches over, slipping her hand beneath the photo and folding it out, making me realize I’d been staring at only half of it.

Now, someone’s standing beside Darcy, wearing matching gear, and a matching smile.

“Who’s that?” I ask, studying the girl with violet hair.

Darcy sighs.

“Do you remember that article?” she asks, her voice surprisingly steady.

I tap my chin theatrically, pretending to think. “Hmm…”

“The one where my teammate sold me out to ESPN —”

“Ohhh yeah,” I nod. “ That one .”

She glares. “Hilarious. Anyway…”

She sucks in a breath. A really deep, lung-filling breath, then exhales it.

“Brenna and I… We grew up together. She was a year ahead, but the moment she moved to Seattle, we did everything together. School, hockey, all of it. And I—” Her voice wavers.

“I had the biggest crush on her. Like embarrassingly massive. But we were best friends, so I kept it quiet. Until we both got into Minnesota. I thought, maybe this was it. Maybe things were lining up.”

I try to ignore the strange feeling in my stomach, the twinge of jealousy for someone I’ve never met, and instead focus on her words. Still, my gut churns.

“And it was good, for a while,” she continues.

“We dated through junior year. But then I started getting worse. My body, I mean. I could barely handle practice, let alone parties or nights out. I kept asking her to stay home. Movie nights, board games, anything low-key. Anything to give my body a break. She wanted the opposite. I didn’t know how to explain that I felt like I was falling apart. ”

She pauses, eyes falling to her hands.

“ I tried. I told her I was tired, that everything hurt. And at first, she acted like she got it. But when things didn’t get better after a while…

I don’t know. I think she just got tired of me.

When I finally got diagnosed, I was honest about everything.

But by then, it was too late. She’d already decided she was done.

“I can’t say I blame her. Being around someone like me, someone who cancels plans and is always in pain…

It's exhausting. I know. But it still hurt. Afterwards, I wanted to go public in my own way. I thought maybe I could help someone else by sharing what I went through. But before I could, she told the media. When I confronted her, she said it was to ‘protect me’ from having to talk about it, but really, it was about her. She wanted to beat me to it. Control the narrative. She didn’t even ask . ”

My eyes sting, unhelpfully. I swipe at them before she can notice.

“She knew I’d lost Portland,” she continues with a sigh. “I think part of her hoped the spot would go to her, but it didn’t. And that pissed her off even more.”

“Why would she do that to you?” I ask, sounding angier than I had meant to.

Darcy shakes her head. “I think she felt betrayed. Like I shut her out. And maybe I did . But it wasn’t because I didn’t love her.

It was because I didn’t know how to bring her into it.

Into… this. ” She gestures to her entire body.

“And nobody else on the team understood either. They all just felt like I gave up. So, when everything went down…” She huffs a sad laugh.

“Well, let's just say that I was on the first flight out of there. So you not dating? You’re not really missing out.”

There’s a scalding, heavy feeling in my stomach, like all the pebbles have melted into molten rock.

I want Darcy to know that not everyone is like that.

That good friends, like Harlowe and Bailey and sweet little Indie, would never pull a stunt like that.

But Darcy seems fixed on her decision to be alone.

And I can’t say that I blame her.

“Did she ever get drafted?” I ask, and I don’t know if it’s morally corrupt, but I silently pray that she didn’t. That she’s out there, miserable without Darcy in her life, because that’s what she deserves.

Darcy shakes her head. “No,” she says. And god, I’m evil. She continues. “But…she’s a ref now.”

Not exactly a win, but not exactly a lose either.

I swallow. “For what?”

Her eyes catch mine. “This.” Tears begin to well, and she quickly blinks them away. “She’s reffing the Hornets game next week in Spokane. I just found out this morning.”

My stomach drops.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I let the silence settle between us, and hope that feels like it did when we were here the other week, pulling us closer instead of pushing us apart.

“I hope you don’t feel like you gave up,” I say finally.

Darcy’s throat bobs as she swallows, but she doesn’t say anything, so I press on.

“I think,” I add slowly, recounting my own experiences. “Sometimes people take things personally when they don’t understand them. Humans like to be knowledgeable. Nobody likes feeling dumb. So instead of admitting they don’t get it, they just… get mean. ”

Her green eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head. “That’s… surprisingly insightful for someone who eats eggs with a spoon.”

I grin. “I contain multitudes.” Then my smile falters. “You said Brenna didn’t get it. That you were falling apart, and she just left.”

Darcy nods, but doesn’t look at me.

“Well,” I continue. “Just because she didn’t know how to love you through it doesn’t mean no one else can.” The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s soft, like there’s a blanket thrown over the two of us, blocking out the chaos of our lives.

“Also, just for the record?” I add, just in case I was too subtle before. “If I were your girlfriend, I would’ve taken a hockey stick to anyone who tried to sell you out to ESPN .”

A breathy laugh escapes her, and I scoot just an inch closer, so that her thighs melts into mine.

“Good to know,” she says.

And she doesn’t move away. Not even a little.