Page 23

Chapter 23

JAMIE

T he practice facility's parking lot is deserted when I pull in at 6 AM, Seattle's skyline barely visible through the pre-dawn fog. My hands shake as I punch in the door code. Two hours early for practice, because sleep was fucking impossible. Not with Rylan coming back today.

Every time I close my eyes, I hear those sounds he made during our call. That broken little gasp when he came.

Focus, Pirelli.

It's been a couple of nights since our video call, and I still don't know what it means. If it means anything. The texts we've exchanged have been carefully professional. They've been mostly about the team, and a couple of updates about his dad. But nothing about us.

I need to get my shit together. I've worked too hard rebuilding my reputation here to risk it all going sideways. We only have one win in our first four games, and that is notgoodenough. I need to prove I'm an asset, not a liability. One more scandal with my name attached and all the trust I've earned disappears.

Greg, the early-morning custodian, waves through the glass as he resurfaces the ice. The familiar sound of the Zamboni should be soothing, but my heart's still racing. The locker room feels different. It's emptier without Rylan's precise routines setting our rhythm. His perfectly organized stall sits untouched, just the way he left it. Before everything changed.

"You're early, Pirelli."

My whole body goes hot then cold. Rylan stands in the doorway, and fuck, helooks... different. Still hot as fuck in business casual instead of his usual suit, but there's something softer about his edges. It's likemaybesome of that rigid control has eased a tiny bit. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before darting away, but it's enough to send electricity shooting down my spine.

I want to push him against the wall and find out if his lips taste asgoodas I remember. Want to see if I can make him fall apart in person the way he did over the phone.

"Hey,"he says, his voice neutral. But I notice the little tremble in his hands when he sets down his bag.

"Welcome back, Cap,"Louis says easily, appearing from nowhere like the sneaky bastard he is."How'd it go yesterday with your dad?"

"Better."Rylan's voice is quiet but steady."Got him settled in Vancouver. The facility seemsgood."

I watch him move through his usual pre-practice routine, cataloging tiny differences. His movements are still precise but less... militant somehow. Likemaybehe's not fighting himself quite so hard.

"Pirelli."My name in his mouth sends heat flooding through me."You're here early."

I needed to see you. I can't stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you until you make those sounds again.

"Couldn't sleep,"I manage, missing the casual tone I was aiming for by about a mile. My gearsuddenlyneeds reorganization, giving me an excuse not to meet his eyes.

Charlie bursts in before Rylan can respond, his usual energy cranked to eleven."Cap! You're back!"He practically bounces across the room for a fist bump."I wanted to surprise you by reorganizing your stall, but they wouldn't let me."

Rylan's eyebrows shoot up."You what?"

"Relax,"Louis snorts."We held him back. Your precious organization system is still intact."

Rylan's lips twitch—the ghost of a real smile, and my stomach flips. The urge to kiss that almost-smile hits me so hard I have to turn away. Fuck, I'm in trouble here. This isn't just attraction anymore. This is something else. Something terrifying.

The door opens again and Austin appears, freezing mid-step when he sees Rylan."You're back,"he says softly, relief evident in his voice. Then his eyes narrow as he notices me."You're here earlier than usual, Pirelli."

The protective edge in his voice sets my teeth on edge. I've seen how Austinlooksat Rylan when he thinks no one's watching. Like Rylan hung the fucking moon.

"Didn't sleep well,"I mutter, focusing on my stall. The last thing I need is Austin figuring out why I couldn't sleep.

"Seems like everyone's here bright and early this morning."Coach Shaw appears in the doorway, hands on his hips and an easy smile on his face.

"Just getting settled back in,"Rylan says smoothly, but he shifts to put more space between us. Ouch.

"Can you pop into my office for a sec before you get on the ice?"Coach asks.

Rylan nods,"Yeah, of course."He follows Coach down the hall, and I can't stop myself from watching him go. His posture seems different… less tense than usual. Likemaybesome of the weight he's been carrying has lifted.

"Earth to Pirelli,"Louis's voice breaks into my thoughts."You planning to actually gear up or keep standing there lookingpretty?"

Heat crawls up my neck as I realize I've been standing with my practice jersey half-on, distracted by watching Rylan walk away. Smooth, Pirelli.

"I was, uh,admiring your, um, gear storage system,"I stutter."Very... organized."

"Unlike some people,"Austin mutters, pointedly eyeing my more chaotic stall.

I paste a grin onto my face."I try to embrace a philosophy of creative chaos."

"Children,"Louis sighs and gives us an exaggerated eye-roll."Behave or Cap will put you both in timeout."

And holy fuck, the thought of Rylan putting me anywhere should not be hot, but after the other night...

By the time we hit the ice, I'm a hot mess. Being this close to him with all this… stuff… between us is killing me. And I can't stop thinking about the way helookedthe other night. The sounds he made when…

Focus. Hockey. Think about hockey.

Coach Shaw blows the whistle, calling us in for drills."First line, show me what you got."

Rylan takes his position at center, all business now. This, I'm ready for. This is hockey. Just like we've done a hundred times before.

Except it's not.

It's fucking electric.

Whatever's changed between us off the ice, our chemistry on it has only gotten stronger. Rylan anticipates my every move like he's reading my mind. each play develops naturally. When I curl around behind the net, I know without looking that he'll be in position for the one-timer.

The puck hits his tape with perfect timing as he releases. Top shelf. Beautiful.

His eyes meet mine for a split second as the team celebrates. The intensity in his gaze knocks the breath right out of me.

"Looking good out there," Coach calls. "Run it again."

We're on fire. My body somehow knows where he is. Our passes connect almost effortlessly. It's goddamn poetry out here.

It's also torture.

Jesus Christ," Charlie mutters after our third perfect play. "Save some chemistry for the bloody games, will you?"

If he only knew.

My body remembers exactly how perfect our chemistry was in San Diego. How incredible it was when his control finally cracked. How he felt under my hands. The sounds he made when...

Focus, dammit.

Austin's getting more aggressive with each drill, but never in Rylan's direction. His checks on me are getting harder, and his passes are a little too sharp when they're aimed my way. But with Rylan, he's still the solid dependable linemate protecting his captain like always.

When he slams me into the boards during a rush drill, probably hoping I'll fuck up the play with Rylan, something in me snaps.

"Problem?"I growl, getting in his face before I can stop myself.

"Just making sure you're paying attention,"Austin sneers, his eyes flicking toward Rylan.

"Hey!"Rylan's voice cuts through the tension."What the hell, you guys? Cool it."

His captain voice brooks no argument. But there's something else in his eyes when they meet mine. Something that sends a rush of blood south.

Jesus Christ, I need to focus.

"Line change!" Coach calls. "Second line up."

I skate to the bench, making sure to keep space between Rylan and me. But I can't stop watching him. The way he shifts seamlessly into Captain Mode, offering quiet advice to the rookies. How his hands move when he's explaining plays. Those same hands that gripped my shoulders in San Diego, that trembled when he allowed himself to touch me the way he wanted to.

The memory hits me so hard I almost miss Coach calling us back out.

This time he has us running full-contact scrimmage drills. Which means I have to get up close and personal with Rylan. I have to battle him for pucks while pretending I don't remember what his skin feels like under my fingers. Or the way he gasped my name when I talked him through touching himself.

"Focus, Pirelli!"Coach barks as Rylan strips the puck from me for the third time."Where's your head at?"

In a hotel room in San Diego. On FaceTime two nights ago. Everywhere except where it should be.

The rest of practice is sweet torture. Every time Rylan and I connect on a play, the electricity between us ratchets higher. And I know I'm not the only one affected. Rylan's breathing gets uneven when we're close, and he keeps unconsciously licking his lips, making me remember how they felt against mine that night.

Austin notices too. His protective hovering gets more obvious as practice goes on, always finding ways to put himself between us. But even he can't deny our chemistry when Rylan and I execute a perfect give-and-go that leaves the defense spinning.

"Alright, that's enough for today,"Coach finally calls."Hit the showers."

Now I'm going to have to navigate the damn locker room without giving away how badly I want to push Rylan against hisprecisely organizedstall and kiss him until he makes those sounds again.