Page 10

Chapter 10

Blake

D amn it. My game is completely off, and I know Coach has noticed. How could he not? You would have to be blind not to.

The frustration simmers in my chest as I storm into the locker room, tossing my helmet onto the bench with a loud clang . I’m furious—at myself, at the mess I’ve made of everything. I’ve always prided myself on keeping my personal life off the ice, but today? It’s bleeding through the cracks, staining everything.

I yank my jersey over my head and throw it on top of my bag, collapsing onto the bench with a heavy sigh. My head is in my hands when his voice cuts through the low buzz of the locker room chatter.

Chase.

The reason for my spiral, the reason my focus is fractured. Hearing him speak is like a punch to the gut. I glance up, and there he is—standing by his locker, laughing at something the guy next to him said. That smile. God, that smile should be aimed at me, not at the guy stealing his attention. Max, the fucking freshman, that seems to constantly be up his ass every time I turn around.

“Stop staring and get it together,” Carter snaps, stepping into my line of sight, blocking my view of his brother.

“I’m trying,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. I shift on the bench, peering around Carter so that my gaze once again lands on Chase. He’s still chatting with Max, completely oblivious to my turmoil. They aren’t flirting, at least not obviously, but the sight of them together ignites a fire in my chest. Chase is shutting me out, confiding in someone else, and I have no one to blame but myself. What am I doing? I don’t know that he’s told Max about us for sure, but he’s giving his attention to him, and that’s a whole hell of a lot more than he is to me.

I have no one to blame for that but me. I left that night. I made a stupid mistake and instead of trying to fix shit like fucking adults, I kept pushing Chase away every time he tried to work out our issues. Why? Because I’m a pussy and I didn’t want him to know what a fuck up I am. What I did. I still don’t. I just know if there is even an inkling of a chance for us, I need to be completely honest with him.

Carter crouches in front of me, his voice low but firm. “Look, he’s hurt. You told him you didn’t want anything to do with him—that it was a mistake. What the hell did you expect? I should kick your ass for that. The only reason I haven’t is because I know you love him. You just need to tell him the truth about what happened that night. He’s going to be hurt, but I know my brother. He’s going to forgive you.”

“I’ve tried.” I sigh, unbuckling my leg pads and putting them off to the side, before bending over to untie my skates. The words feel heavy, like stones I’ve been carrying around for weeks.

Carter straightens up and claps me on the shoulder. “Shower, change, and we’ll give you a ride home. Chase drove, so you’re stuck with us, anyway. I’ll even sit in the back and put my headphones in so you can talk to him in private.”

“No—”

“Not taking no for an answer, Blake,” he interrupts, already heading toward his locker. “Fix this. Get it out in the open so we can all move on. And maybe after that, we can focus on Ginny.”

I don’t respond, too focused on the ache in my chest as I watch Chase. His back is to me, the intricate eagle tattoo across his shoulders a vivid reminder of nights spent tracing the lines with my fingertips. My stomach twists as he turns around, and our eyes meet—his emerald-green gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, it’s like the world goes silent. Just us, suspended in time. Then, as quickly as it began, it shatters. His jaw tightens, his lips press into a thin line, and he looks away, pain flickering across his face.

I know I’m the reason for that pain. And his expression is like a knife to my ribs.

Chase gathers his things and heads to the showers, a towel slung low on his hips. I can’t stay here. Not like this. I need air—space to clear my head before I suffocate under the weight of everything I’m feeling. I shove my gear into my bag, grab my jacket, and leave without another word. Carter calls after me, but I wave him off, muttering something about waiting outside.

The icy wind bites at my face as I step into the parking lot. The cold is sharp, shocking my system, but it’s a relief—a physical sting to distract me from the ache in my chest. I make my way to Chase and Carter’s truck, leaning against the side as I fish my phone out of my pocket. My fingers are numb, but I scroll through my messages anyway, hoping for something—anything—to take my mind off the chaos inside me.

Mom’s texts are waiting. And I open the app, scrolling to the first unread one.

Mom: My coworker has a son just a few years older than you.

Of course, as usual, they’re filled with not-so-subtle matchmaking suggestions. I love her, but she never seems to get the hint. I don’t want her help. Letting out a deep sigh, I hope this time she gets the point.

Me: Mom, stop. Do not, and I repeat, do not play matchmaker. I don’t want you setting me up with any of your friends’ children.

Mom: I just want to see you happy. If you’d rather, settle down with a girl.

Her persistence is relentless, but I don’t have the energy to argue. Not tonight.

Me: Mom, stop.

Me: Please.

Me: When I’m ready to start dating, whether it’s a guy or a girl, I’ll do it on my own. Please, just stop trying to set me up.

Mom: Fine.

I close the message, no longer having the mental capacity to continue the conversation with my mother, and open my photo gallery instead, scrolling through pictures of Chase and me. Each one is a bittersweet reminder of what we had, what I’ve lost. My throat tightens as I swipe through the memories, my heart aching with every image.

“Still alive out here?” Carter’s voice jolts me from my thoughts. He’s walking toward me, breath visible in the frigid air, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Barely,” I reply, forcing a weak smile as I pocket my phone. “Where’s Chase?” I ask when I don’t see him.

“He’s still getting ready. I just wanted a few minutes alone with you to remind you—make sure you talk to him, Blake,” Carter says, his tone firm. “No excuses. Don’t let him drop you off without laying everything out in the open.” He shoots me a pointed look, one that makes it clear I’d better do exactly as he says.

“I’ll try,” I mumble, but the truth is, I’m terrified. What if he hates me more after I explain? What if I’ve already lost him for good?

“There’s no trying,” Carter says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck. It’s just hard. What if he hates me more?”

“It’s a risk you’re going to have to take. But he’s my brother, and he deserves to know what happened. This shit between you is affecting the team and the two of you playing together. It’s no longer a Blake and Chase issue, it's a Berzerker issue.” He gives me a sharp glare, and I know if I don’t tell Chase the truth, he will.

Before I can spiral further, Chase emerges from the building. My heart skips a beat, but the relief is short-lived. Max is right on his heels. They head straight for us, Max chattering away, completely oblivious to the tension that’s so thick you could cut it with a knife. I turn to face Carter, but he shrugs his shoulders just as clueless as me as to why the two of them are together.

“What’s up, Max? You’re looking good out there.” Carter speaks up, and I want to kick him in the shins for playing nice with the fucker.

I shouldn’t despise the guy so much; he hasn’t done anything. He’s my teammate and all he’s done is be a friend to Chase. Albeit a little too friendly, if you ask me. But technically, we’re not dating, so if Chase wants to pursue something with him, then he’s free to, even if it guts me. But I’m not going to give him up without a fight. Chase Olsen is mine, he’s my endgame. My world.

“Thanks. I’m trying. Got big shoes to fill coming in behind you guys.” He lets out a laugh, but there’s an underlying discomfort to it. Interesting. Do I make him nervous? Has Chase told him more about our situation than what everyone knows from the public blow up we had?

“Why are you standing outside of the truck?” Chase asks as he unlocks the door. “It’s fucking freezing, and you could’ve had it warming up. Go ahead and get in the front Max. That way, you can give me directions.”

I jerk my head to Carter and whisper, “What the hell?”

He shrugs his shoulders before replying to Chase. “Left my keys at home this morning. Are we giving Max a ride?”

“Yeah. We’re heading out tonight to grab a bite, and I need to know where to pick him up. Plus, he was going to wait for the bus and I told him there was no need when we could just give him a lift.”

I grit my teeth as Max climbs into the passenger seat of the truck.

Carter shoots me a sympathetic look before following behind Chase to the other side of the truck. I climb into the backseat, biting back the anger that’s clawing to break free.

I look over at Carter as he sits down and mouth, “What the fuck do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” he mouths back as he turns on his phone, leaving me to stew in silence. Something catches his attention when it comes to life, and he quickly begins typing a message, his attention taken by whoever it is on the other end.

Chase and Max talk like I’m not even there, their conversation easy, casual—everything ours used to be. Jealousy eats away at me, at the closeness they have and the distance that drives us further and further apart.

I try to eavesdrop on their conversation, while still trying to remain cool. Pulling out my phone, I try to make it look like I’m doing something else and scroll through my contacts. There’s one person I really need to tell something to.

Me: I fucking hate you.

When I hear him laughing beside me, I know he got my message. While he thinks this situation is humorous, I don’t. This was supposed to be my opportunity to talk to Chase, to make things right. But instead, I’m banished to the backseat like a misbehaving child, unable to have a much needed conversation with him.

“So I hear the DJ at the club tonight is insane.” Max’s voice is full of excitement.

Club? What does he mean? My ears perk up, wanting to hear more of their conversation to figure out just what they’re talking about.

“So you don’t know him?” Chase asks.

“No. The doors open at ten, but as long as we get there before eleven, then there’s no cover charge.”

They’re going to a club? Is it a date? Shit, this sounds like a fucking date. Have I lost my chance to mend my relationship with Chase? My heart is racing, my head pounding, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. The temperature in the truck begins to rise and all I want to do is reach through the seat and strangle the man in front of me.

My eyes dart over to Carter, wondering if he’s aware of what’s going on, but instead of paying attention, he’s busy messaging on his phone, oblivious to the conversation being had between his brother and the homewrecker. What the hell is going on?

By the time Chase drops me off at my building, my chest feels hollow. He’s dropping me off before Max, leaving me with no chance to talk to him about us. I step out of the truck, the cold night air wrapping around me. Chase doesn’t even glance my way as he drives off, leaving me alone on the curb, staring after the taillights until they disappear.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. None of this is how it was supposed to go.