Page 8

Chapter 8

Chase

A s I step into the rink, my stomach twists in knots. I let out a sigh of relief when I don’t see Blake right away. The scent of the rink hits me immediately—ice, faintly metallic, mingled with the distant smell of sweat and waxed floors. It’s familiar, almost comforting, but not enough to ease the weight pressing on my chest. Today, Blake will be here, and no matter how much I lie to myself, I'm not ready. The longer I can go before I have to lay eyes on him, the better.“

Fuck, she’s hot.” Max lets out a low whistle beside me, piercing my ear. My head moves, following the direction his eyes are focusing on, and my heart flutters.

Ginny! Of fucking course.

“And off limits. That’s coach’s daughter. Even if she wasn't, she's also the other heartbreak I’m dealing with.” My eyes stray back over to Ginny, as memories of her between me and Blake flood back, forcing me to calm my raging hormones.

“Shit, Chase, you really know how to pick them. I can see why you’d rather sit outside in your truck in the freezing cold than come inside.”

The sound of blades slicing through the ice draws my attention back to the rink and I get my first glimpse of Ginny in action, and fuck if she’s not perfection. She’s in mid-spin, her form graceful and precise, as the asshole guides her through the routine like a partner should. Their movements are perfectly synchronized, fluid, yet charged with the intensity of perfecting a difficult sequence. It’s the only evidence you need to know they’ve been partners for years, molded into one being, able to tell each other's movements before they even happen. Coach Lein stands at the edge of the ice, his arms crossed over his chest as he intently watches them. His voice carries across the rink, calling out corrections and tips.

"Lift the left arm higher, Ginny! Antony, steadier footing on that pivot. Again!"

I freeze in my spot. Max keeps walking forward, still talking, but his words sound like the teacher from the Charlie Brown movies. My eyes follow Ginny and the creep as they move through their routine, almost as if their fluid movements might calm the storm building inside me. “Chase!” Max shouts, catching not only my attention, but Coach’s as well. “Are you coming?” I let out a sigh and fall in step beside him, making our way toward the locker room, each step bringing me closer to Blake. The door groans, agonizing, much like my soul, as Max pushes it open, the cool, damp air of the locker room wrapping around us.

“You got this, man. And if you think you don’t, then we can pretend to be the new it couple.” I can feel his presence before I see him.

Blake’s here. There’s no way I can put off seeing him any longer.

The weight of his eyes on me is smothering. My breath catches in my throat as my emerald green eyes land on his warm brown ones. He’s sitting on the bench, half-undressed, his hockey jersey tossed carelessly beside him and abs flexed as he leans over to tighten his skates. For a moment, all the tension and anger melts away, a wave of longing replacing it that's so strong it makes my knees weak. I can’t help the way my gaze lingers on him, the way my eyes trace the sharp lines of his body or the way he doesn’t look away from me.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “Damn. He’s hot. Fuck, does he have an eight pack?”

My mouth goes dry as I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from Blake, but knowing that I need to. He made it abundantly clear that we’re nothing. I need to move on. Maybe Max is the person to help me do that. “Yeah,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. Breaking my focus on Blake, I turn to Max. “We need to get ready before Coach reams us a new asshole. Afterward, we can go for lunch, maybe do something tonight.”

Max smirks knowingly, giving me a nudge on my shoulder as we step further into the room. “Now we’re talking. I vote for wings or subs. Maybe both. There's also this new club that opened downtown that’s right up our alley, so to speak, and I’ve wanted to check it out. I just haven’t had anyone to go with me. Now I do.”

I just shake my head. The guy’s like an energizer bunny, but I find it refreshing. I spot Carter at our lockers and make my way over to him as Max heads to his. When I reach him, I drop my bag onto the bench with more force than necessary, the sound breaking the uneasy silence I’ve made up in my head. I don’t know why, but I feel like everyone’s eyes are on Blake and me, waiting for the next episode of the crazy show I gave yesterday.

“You left me this morning. I had to come here by myself.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended, tinged with the hurt I’d been carrying since waking up this morning.

Carter’s head snaps up at my words, his brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “And that’s a problem because?”

I drop down on the bench, letting my head fall back against the locker. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s, fuck, I just didn’t want to walk in here alone.” I lower my voice so that only he can hear, as he sits down beside me, our shoulders touching. “Blake told me last night it was over. That we were a mistake.”

Carter sighs heavily, but I can’t look up to face him. I don’t want to see the pity on his face.

“He doesn’t mean it, Chase. The two of you just need to give it some time to cool down and talk. Work through all your shit.” I shake my head as the word slips across my lips. “No.”

“Come on Chase, you know you don’t mean that.”

“I do, Carter. I gave him more than one chance to talk to me and he didn’t. He made his stance very clear last night. I’m not going to chase after someone like a lost puppy who I mean nothing to.” I take off my jacket, letting it fall onto the bench as I take off my shirt. I can feel Carter trying to work up what he wants to say, but I don’t have it in me to listen. Turning away from him, I reach into my bag, taking out my practice jersey.

“Chase—” he finally says.

“No,” I cut him off. “Stop, Carter. This is between Blake and me. You’re not going to be in the middle of it. I refuse to let our issues ruin your friendship. Now you’re already dressed, and I need to get ready before Coach has my ass.” I reach down, taking off my shoes, then stand and undo my pants. “I saw Ginny out there again. Can you believe that shit? What’s the fucking dumb luck we’d run into her here?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.

“It’s crazy. Her partner’s a real fucking tool,” he mumbles under his breath.

I can feel his eyes fixating on me. He wants to say something. No, ask me something.

“What?” I blurt.

“So, uh… what’s up with Max?” he asks, his voice calm and casual, but with an underlying hint of curiosity. It’s not like Max and I are buddies. Hell, other than orders on the ice, I don’t think we’ve even had a conversation with any depth to it. I couldn’t tell you anything about him, really.

I don’t even look up at him as I pull my jersey over my head. “He’s just a friend. Nothing more. He met me in the parking lot and we had a conversation. That’s it.”

Carter studies me for a moment, as if trying to figure out if there's more that I’m not saying, but eventually he just nods. “Alright. Thought I heard something about food and hanging out.”

“Stalking me now. Is this going to be how it is anytime someone talks to me? We’re just friends, Carter. Friends hang out. Just drop it.” I sigh, letting my head fall back against the locker in frustration.

He closes his locker and grabs his stick. “Sorry, but you’re my brother, and I’m always going to look out for you. I’m going to say it one more time, and then I’m done. Just don’t give up on Blake yet. I’m heading out to the ice. Might see if I can talk to Ginny real quick.”

My eyes go wide. Did he really just say that? My brother has a fucking death wish.

Everything in me screams to tell him it’s a bad idea. Ginny, no matter how much we cared for her, loved her, left us behind like we were nothing, like we were just some fling to pass the time. She didn’t even have the decency to break it off in person, instead she slipped out in the early hours of the morning, while we were sleeping, leaving only a note and ignoring every call. The biggest gut punch is that she’s Coach Lein’s daughter—messing with her isn’t just emotional suicide, it’s literal death if he finds out. And I have a strong feeling that slime bag partner of hers would take great joy in spilling the beans if he finds out.

But I don’t say any of that. I keep all those thoughts to myself, biting my tongue as Carter hovers above me. I know the silent question he’s asking himself; should he wait for me, or leave? I decide to put him out of his misery. “Go,” I tell him softly, “but be careful with Ginny. You’re playing with fire. She made her choice, just like him.” Both of their rejections feel like a knife piercing my heart. Blake’s hurts just a little more, since he was my first love.

“Okay.” Carter nods, before picking up his gear and leaving.

One by one, my teammates filter out, the sound of their skate guards echoing faintly against the tile floor. Max passes by, giving me a quick nod before disappearing out the door as well.

I let out an exhale before I finish dressing and sitting down on the bench, leaning forward as I put my skates on. I take my time lacing them up methodically, trying to focus on the tranquility of the movement and not the thoughts swirling in my head. The room’s quiet now, except for the faint sound of my fingers tugging at the laces.

I feel Blake’s presence hovering over me long before I hear or see him. The air shifts, becoming heavier, tense, causing my skin to prickle.

“Can we talk?” Blake's voice breaks the silence.

I don’t look up, just continue lacing my skates. My hands move faster, almost angrily, as I try to ignore the way Blake’s voice tugs at something deep inside me. It’s taking everything in me to continue with what I’m doing and not look up at him, because I know the moment I do, I’ll melt. I’ll break into a million shards.

“Chase,” Blake calls me again, this time with a hint of desperation, a crack in his voice that makes my stomach twist.

“What?” I snap, finally looking up. “What is there to talk about? You made it clear last night what you did and didn’t want. There’s no need to drag this out.”

Blake flinches at the sharpness of my words, something so uncommon from me, especially with him. I should feel some satisfaction from my words, from my actions, and from standing up to him, but I don’t. Instead, I feel hollow.

“I was nothing,” I continue, my voice firm and cold. “It’s cool. I want to thank you, though, for giving me the push I needed to come out about my sexuality. Had you been a man and stayed—actually talked to me that night at the cabin instead of running off—we could’ve worked it out. We could’ve come back here as a couple. Without all the drama that came after.”

I give my laces one last check, then stand. I don’t say anything else, giving Blake a chance to respond, to tell me I was wrong. But he doesn’t reply. He’s proving Carter wrong, and he meant just what he said. I meant nothing. I grab my helmet and stick off the bench and give Blake one final look before leaving.

Every step is a battle to keep going forward when all I want to do is turn back, to confront Blake, to maybe—just maybe—fix what’s broken between us. But I don’t. Instead, I bite back everything inside me that urges me to do that and make my way to the ice. To my team.