Page 13

Chapter 13

Blake

E very fiber of my being told me coming here tonight was a bad idea. But I did anyway. I had to see him. To know what he’s doing. That he’s okay. To fully see him moving on with my own eyes. Maybe, just maybe, then I could let him go. Put both of us out of our misery.

I didn’t know when they would show up, just that they were coming. I stayed in the corner, hidden safely away in the shadows, nursing the now warm beer until I caught my first glimpse of them. Chase looked as handsome as ever. He was dressed casually, just in some jeans and a button-up shirt that he left untucked from his pants, the top few buttons undone, showing the black shirt he wore underneath. I barely noticed how Max was dressed, just that he was smiling too eagerly at the man I love.

It killed me not being able to move closer, to hear what they were talking about. Whatever it was, I could tell it was intense by the way Chase’s jaw clenched and the way his shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took.

A heavy weight comes down on my shoulder, the fingers digging into my skin, and I turn to face the large muscular man.

“Hey there.” He leans in, his hot breath skirting across my cheek, the heady scent of liquor wafting across my face and clashing with my senses. “Can I buy you a drink?” His words linger on the last vestige of sobriety just before tipping over into intoxication. He must have started drinking as soon as the door opened, or he began his pregame party early.

“No, thank you,” I reply, my voice stern as I take hold of his hand, removing it from my shoulder.

“Oh, come on now, baby.”

“I’m not your baby, and I suggest you get away from me.” I stand from the chair, my body rigid, ready for anything he may try.

The man holds up his hands and backs away from my table, mumbling something under his breath about being a cock tease. When I’m able to shift my attention back to Chase, my heart races as anger boils inside of me. They’re hugging. Max has his arms around my boyfriend. No. That’s not exactly right. Chase isn’t mine anymore. I pushed him away, even after he poured his heart out to me. Their faces are so close, angled in such a way that it looks like they’re kissing.

My hands grip the bottle tighter, and my legs begin to move before I even realize it. I’m not losing Chase. Not to a teammate. I mean, isn’t there some kind of team code about not going after someone else’s ex similar to the girl code I hear so much about? If not, I plan to fully enact it right now!

I stop suddenly, closing my eyes, trying to calm the rage beginning to consume me, not caring if anyone runs into me. If I go charging at them, I’ll never have a shot at winning Chase back. I’ll look like a fucking stalking lunatic. And he’ll know I was eavesdropping on his conversation, as if I couldn’t help but overhear it, anyway.

When I feel the anger retreat deeper within me, and a cooler head prevails, I open my eyes, only to see his emerald green ones looking dead at me. I move quickly once the shock wears off and hide behind a crowd of men heading toward the other side of the room, praying he didn’t realize it was me. Once I’m safely out of his line of vision and I can see he’s gone back to his conversation with Max, I slip out through the exit. If I stay here any longer, it will only end up ruining any chance I have with Chase.

Once outside the building, I blow out the breath I’ve been holding and wait. But Chase doesn’t come out the door. There’s no man I love shouting at me angrily. So, either I got really lucky and he didn’t see me, or this just shows I’ve damaged our relationship beyond repair.

I can’t help the heaviness my heart feels over him not following me. I wouldn’t even care if he was mad—maybe I would a little—at least it would show me he cares. That there’s still a small slither of hope for us.

When my brain and heart finally agree that coming here was stupid, I pull my phone from my pocket and order a Lyft. I don’t want to go home to my room, where all I’ll be able to do is wallow in my pity. Alone! But where do I go?

I quickly type in the drop off address and wait for a driver to take my ride. Ten minutes. That’s how long I have to wait. I lean against the wall, bending my knee, placing the sole of my shoe on the brick behind me as I scroll through my phone, torturing myself more by looking at pictures I have stored of Chase. Some that he doesn’t even know I have. Ones that I took candidly during our trip and before.

Fuck, I’m a glutton for punishment.

Almost forty minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of the rink. My home away from home and the place that holds the one thing that can help me calm my racing mind. The ice.

“Are you sure this is where you want to go?” the driver asks as he pulls into the empty parking lot. The building is dark, and I’m sure he’s probably wondering if he’s about to be an unknowing accomplice in a crime.

“Yeah, I’m a student here and I have the key,” I tell him, thinking only after the fact that I’ve just given him a whole lot of information. What if he’s the unsavory type, and comes back, laying in wait for me to walk back out of the building, robbing me? Not that I have a lot to take. I’m not bringing in the money, so to speak, at the moment.

“Okay.” He pauses for a moment before coming to a stop in front of the doors. “Want me to wait until you get inside? It’s kind of deserted out here.”

“Yeah, sure,” I rush out, getting more nervous by the moment. It’s not like I don’t think I could take the guy. He looks to be about twenty-five, slender, with glasses. Kind of reminds me of Sheldon Cooper. If it came down to a fight with him, I’m sure I could take him without even breaking a sweat.

I swipe my card through the reader. Click. A sharp, metallic snap echoes as the latch retracts. A soft clunk follows, the tumblers shifting into place with a muted finality. There’s a faint scrape of metal on metal, a brief whisper of movement as the bolt slides free from its hold. For a moment, the air holds the ghost of tension—then silence. The door is unlocked.

Once inside the building, I quickly put the code Coach Lein gave me and the guys into the keypad, so the alarm doesn’t go off. I learned my lesson on that already; it took two days before the ringing in my ears subsided. Coach Lein wanted to ensure his team had access to the ice anytime we needed it. If we trashed the rink in any way, it’s a privilege we would not only lose, but it would cost us our place on the team.

Pulling out my phone, I turn on the flashlight app and make my way to the locker room, hoping like hell I left my spare skates in my locker the last time I was here. I reach inside the door, my fingertips meeting the cold, smooth surface of the cinder block wall, its coolness seeping into my skin. The texture is uneven—painted over but still rough, the dips and rises of the mortar faintly detectable beneath my touch. As my hand moves, I brush over a thin line of dust where the wall meets the doorframe.

My fingers search, skimming across the cool surface, until they meet the plastic edge of the light switch. It’s slightly recessed, the plastic smooth and well-worn from years of use. The switch itself has a slight give before it clicks into place.

Instantly, the fluorescent bulbs flicker to life with a harsh, electric buzz. The sudden brightness is almost blinding, forcing my eyes to squint as they adjust. Shadows retreat from the corners, revealing the dull sheen of metal lockers, scuffed tile floors, and the faint haze of dust in the air. The sterile light is almost too bright, making everything seem stark and overly exposed, and for a moment, I feel disoriented—caught between the remnants of darkness and the sharp clarity of the room now fully illuminated.

The room is eerily quiet, a sharp contrast to the times I’m normally here, and it’s filled with the overpowering energy of my teammates. But the quiet is comforting, and dangerous at the same time. It offers me far more time to stew over the events of the night and think of all the ways I could kill Max, ensuring he stays far from Chase.

Any other time I’d have relationship issues with either a guy or girl, I’d go straight to Carter and let him give me advice. But this is different. I don’t have anyone to vent to. It’s not like I can go to Carter about his brother. I’ve already done too much telling him all the details about that night. He’s confident that Chase will forgive me, even if it takes him some time to process what I tell him.

I make my way across the room to the rectangular box that holds the decision if I’m staying or calling another Lyft to pick me up. Maybe I’ll walk. It’ll give me time to think while I freeze my ass off. The metal locker door groans slightly as I tug it open, the hinges stiff with age. A faint metallic rattle echoes as the latch disengages, and the scent of worn leather and cold steel drifts out. For a split second, my breath catches—what if they aren’t there?

Then, my eyes drop to the bottom of the locker, and relief washes over me. The skates sit exactly where I left them, scuffed but reliable, their laces coiled in a loose heap. I let out a slow sigh, the tension in my shoulders easing. The weight of uncertainty lifts, replaced by the familiar comfort of knowing. While everything isn’t as it should be, I can at least let out a little of my tension as I glide across the ice—the one place where I feel truly free.