Page 31

Chapter 31

Chase

O ne month. One glorious month.

Things have been amazing. Blake and I have gotten closer, and he’s slowly been breaking away all those barriers that were still firmly in place. He’s truly showing me how remorseful he is for what happened. How much he regrets the betrayal of our relationship. Even now, when he thinks I’m asleep, he whispers apologies into the quiet of the night—over and over—until his voice cracks, raw with emotion.

God, I love him.

Tonight’s game is big. We’re up against the Iron Valley Titans, and when we win—because let’s face it, we will—I plan to celebrate by making love to Blake. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m ready to take that final leap in our relationship. No more hesitation, no more lingering doubts. Just us. Together. Ready to shout to the world that we’re committed to each other.

The only thing that would make tonight even better? Seeing Ginny in the stands, cheering us on. Maybe wearing some ridiculous, custom-made jersey with our numbers stitched across the back—claiming us publicly, making it known to the world that she belongs to us just as much as we belong to her.

But that’s just a fantasy.

Coach Lein is her father. And for now, we still have to keep our relationship hidden.

The locker room hums with tension, skates scraping against the floor, tape being wound tightly around sticks, the faint scent of menthol from muscle rub lingering in the air. Carter sits beside me, his knee bouncing up and down, radiating energy like a live wire. Blake is quieter, methodical as he tightens the straps on his goalie pads. His expression is unreadable, but I catch the flicker of focus in his eyes—he’s locked in. His head’s in the game, he’s in his zone.

Coach Lein stands in front of us, arms crossed, surveying the team. His gaze shifts between us one by one, until he makes it to Carter, then finally Blake.

“This is a big game,” he says, voice firm, commanding. “The Titans are no joke. They’re aggressive, they play hard, and they will try to get in your heads. But you know what?” He smirks slightly. “They’re not you. You’re faster, you’re sharper, and you play with your damn hearts. So get out there and show them why the hell we’re at the top of this league.”

A few guys let out cheers, smacking their gloves against their pads. Carter nudges me with his elbow, and I give him a small grin. Blake doesn’t move, but I see his fingers flex where they rest on his knee. He’s ready.

We’re all ready.

Coach starts calling out line rotations, and then we all head out of the locker room.

The moment my skates hit the ice, the roar of the crowd slams into me. The energy is electric, the tension palpable. I breathe it in, feeling the ice beneath me, the weight of my stick in my hands, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Carter skates up beside me, tapping his stick against mine. “Ready to win this shit?”

I smirk. “Oh, hell yeah.”

The ref blows the whistle, signaling the start of the game. We line up at center ice, waiting for the drop. The Titans’ center stares me down, jaw clenched, his stance aggressive.

Cocky bastard.

The puck drops.

I react on instinct, winning the faceoff and shoving the puck back to Carter. He takes off like a bullet, weaving through defenders with an ease that’s effortless. I follow, positioning myself near the crease, waiting for the right moment.

Carter fakes a shot, dragging the goalie to the right, then flicks the puck toward me—fast, precise.

I see my opening.

One-timer. Stick to puck. Puck to net.

The red light blares, the horn wailing through the arena.

Goal.

The crowd explodes.

Carter and I collide in celebration, sticks clashing, grinning like idiots. Blake skates out of his crease just enough to punch Carter in the shoulder. “Keep it up,” he says simply.

We’re on fire.

But, of course, the Titans aren’t going down without a fight and they come back hard, scoring against us. It continues like that. For each goal we make, they make one in return.

The ice beneath my skates feels alive, humming with energy as the final period begins. The scoreboard flashes 3-3 , the tension thick enough to cut with a skate blade. My fingers flex around my stick, my body thrumming with anticipation.

This is my kind of game—tight, physical, and just waiting for someone to break it wide open.

We’ve just stepped back out on the ice when I turn and look up to the crowd and I spot someone that makes my pulse rise.

Ginny.

Front row, center ice, bundled up in a hoodie, watching us with sharp, focused eyes.

A rush of adrenaline surges through me, stronger than anything I’ve felt all game. She came.

I lean in slightly toward Carter. “Do you see her?”

He frowns, eyebrows raised. “Who?”

Blake skates up to us and snorts. “Who do you think, dumbass? Ginny.”

Carter’s head snaps in the direction I’m looking, and his whole face lights up. “Holy shit, she’s here?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, she fucking risked shit with Coach to come.”

Blake smirks behind his mask. “She’s watching us play together for the first time. We better give her a show in the little bit of time we have left.”

“Damn right,” I mutter.

“Keep your voices down,” I warn them. “If Coach hears us talking about our love life in a tied game, he’ll have us doing bag skates ‘til next season. Not to mention that his daughter is the star of it.”

Carter laughs softly. “Fair point.”

I steal one last glance at Ginny before setting my focus back on the game.

Carter, Henley and I move into position at the center line and Blake heads for the net. The ref drops the puck, and Carter reacts first, winning the draw. I take off like a rocket, weaving through defenders as I power toward the net.

“Move it! Move it!” Coach Lein’s voice booms from the bench.

Carter cuts through the zone beside me, faking a pass just long enough to throw off their defense before snapping the puck across the ice.

I catch it effortlessly, my body moving on instinct as I close in on the goalie.

Then—boom.

The puck sails into the net.

The horn blares, the red light flashes, and the crowd erupts.

I barely have time to react before Carter slams into me, bumping me hard. “Hell yeah!”

Blake knocks his stick against the post, a grin flashing behind his mask.

I skate back to center ice, glancing toward the stands again.

Ginny’s still watching and she’s smiling. She gives me a thumbs up, nothing major but its meaning is so big.

Blake shouts to us. “Think she liked that one?”

I smirk. “She better. Otherwise, I’m benching her in our personal life.”

Carter rolls his eyes. “Focus. We’ve still got a game to win.”

The game continues but turns nasty. The Titans are pissed to be behind, and they are showing it.

Then it happens.

Carter has just passed the puck to Henley when one of their defensemen charges straight at him from behind.

“Carter, heads up!” I shout.

Too late.

The hit sends him sprawling into the boards, his helmet bouncing off the glass. My gloves hit the ice before I can think.

I grab the guy by the collar and swing.

First punch—clean hit.

Second—almost connects, but Carter regains his composure, pulling me back.

The crowd explodes and the whistle shrieks in my ears.

I barely feel it when they yank me back.

“Two minutes for roughing!” the ref barks.

I wipe my lip, tasting blood. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Coach Lein’s voice roars from the bench. “Dammit, Chase!”

I skate toward the penalty box, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Coach points a sharp finger at me. “You think sitting in the sin bin is gonna help us win this game?”

I shrug, smirking with pride. “He went after Carter, Coach! What was I supposed to do, send him a thank-you note?”

Coach sighs, rubbing his temples. “I get it, kid. But next time, make ‘em pay with a goal, not your fists.”

I step into the box, still breathing hard.

Carter skates past and smirks through the plexiglass. “Hey, at least our girl knows you’ll fight for me.”

I shoot him a glare. “I swear to God, if I come out and you haven’t set me up for a goal, I’m kicking your ass.”

He laughs. “Deal.”

With me in the box, we’re down a man, and Blake is getting hammered with shots.

But he’s a fucking brick wall. Every attempt to score by the Titans is blocked.

The second my penalty expires, I explode out of the box.

Carter’s ready and waiting. He spots me moving up the ice and sends a perfect pass straight to my stick.

Breakaway.

I can feel the eyes of the entire rink on me. I close in on the net, stick pulled back, ready to end it. I snap the puck toward the top right of the net.

My breath catches as I wait and watch. Praying it makes it in.

GOAL.

The crowd goes wild.

Blake pumps his fist in the air as I skate past the bench, smirking at Coach Lein. “That better?”

Coach exhales sharply, shaking his head. “That’s more like it.”

The final buzzer sounds minutes later, sealing our 5-3 victory.

The team floods the ice, sticks raised in celebration. I skate toward Carter and Blake, bumping my stick against theirs.

“Not bad, boys,” Carter grins.

Blake chuckles. “Not bad? I saved our asses blocking those pucks.”

Carter rolls his eyes. “And Chase punched that fucker in the face for me.”

I clap him on the back. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome. But who made the winning shot? Guys, come on and face it, I’m the star of the show.”

I take hold of Blake, pulling him into me. “I have a special surprise for you at home.” He looks at me and I wink.

Before we head off the ice, I turn toward the stands.

Ginny’s still there.

Smiling.

Proud.

But when I look over at Coach, I see him looking up at her too.

Blake follows my gaze. “We better get moving before we get caught looking at her.”

Tonight, we won on the ice, and Ginny was here to see it. But the real victory is going to be happening later. With Blake.