Page 43

Iris

I pulled my skate off, the ice still cooling my legs from the extra session. The locker room buzzed with energy, voices mixing with the sharp scent of sweat and gear. Jenna and Lila were nearby, crouched over their sticks, the sound of tape ripping slicing through their chatter.

“So… you and Chris?” Jenna asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It was lighthearted, teasing.

I froze for a second, a laugh bubbling up in my throat. “What about us?” I shot back, trying to keep my tone casual while feeling heat creep into my cheeks.

Lila nudged Jenna with her elbow. “You know what she means. He’s been hovering like a moth to a flame.”

“It’s just a bonfire,” I replied, shrugging it off. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly? Honey, that’s more than friendly,” Jenna teased, smirking as she finished taping her stick. “That’s the move, right? You guys have gotten coffee and lunch before, but this is different. That’s when shit happens.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their banter. For the first time in weeks, I felt like part of the team—not the golden girl or Coach Callahan’s prodigy—just one of them.

“Langley’s sweet. Safe,” Lila added, twisting her hair into a messy bun.

“Safe is boring,” Jenna countered with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

I laughed along with them, but it felt fake. The sound echoed in my ears, almost jarring against the backdrop of their teasing. I forced a smile, but my mind was elsewhere—lost in thoughts of Knox.

How nothing about him was safe.

He was a hurricane in a world where I craved calm, and the idea sent shivers down my spine. His intensity pulled at something deep within me, something that yearned for the thrill of chaos over the comfort of predictability.

I remembered the way he had pinned me against the lockers, his breath hot against my skin as he growled that I was his.

That grip—possessive and commanding—made me feel alive in ways I had never imagined possible.

There was no softness in Knox; every moment with him crackled with energy that both terrified and exhilarated me.

“Hey! Earth to Iris!” Jenna waved her hand in front of my face, breaking through my reverie.

“Yeah?” I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the memory of his hands on my body.

“You zoned out on us,” Lila said, her brow raised in mock concern. “We thought you were plotting your next move with Langley.”

I snorted at that. “Hardly.”

But even as I spoke those words, guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. Chris was so easygoing and nice—everything I should want right now. Yet all I could picture was Knox’s fierce gaze when he caught me glancing at Chris the other day.

It made my heart race and pulse quicken just thinking about it.

The way Knox made me feel was intoxicating and overwhelming, drawing me deeper into an emotional whirlwind I wasn’t sure how to navigate. It was wrong to want him this way, but how could I deny it? How could I walk away from that electricity?

Brooke breezed into the locker room, her expression a mix of mischief and annoyance. “Callahan Junior is on a real good one today,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she pulled on her skates. “Let’s get out there before he finds a reason to bitch even more.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at that. Knox had been relentless lately, and I knew it was partly because of me. Every time we were on the ice together, the air crackled with unspoken words and barely contained energy. It was exhausting—and exhilarating.

We all gathered our gear, slipping into our jerseys and tightening our laces as anticipation hummed in the air. As I finished up, I took a deep breath to steady myself. The weight of what had happened between Knox and me lingered in the back of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

Stepping onto the ice felt different today—like walking into a storm. Knox stood at center ice, his focus sharp, scanning us like he was assessing prey. His gaze landed on me for just a moment, enough to send a jolt through my body.

"Everybody, warm up!" he barked.

I began to skate, getting my footing. It always felt like coming home whenever I first stepped onto the ice.

“Faster, Evans.” His voice sliced through the chill of the rink.

I pushed off hard, gliding across the ice as adrenaline surged through me. But even as I worked to find my rhythm, his words followed me like shadows.

“Get your fucking head up.” He barked again when I hesitated during a drill.

The frustration clawed at my insides. It wasn’t just about hockey anymore; it felt personal—his anger laced with something deeper that neither of us dared to address in public.

“Sloppy! Do it again!” he commanded after I stumbled during a pivot.

My teammates shot me glances—half sympathy, half curiosity—as if they could sense the tension brewing between Knox and me. They were catching on; it was becoming harder to hide how charged everything felt when he was near.

I gritted my teeth and reset for another attempt. The pressure bore down on me as Knox watched every move with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Every shout felt like an order wrapped in an intimate challenge—a dare I couldn’t ignore even if I wanted to.

The ice beneath my skates became a battleground where desire clashed with ambition—and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep fighting against both forces pulling me in opposite directions.

I skated harder, pushing my body to its limits as the cold air whipped against my face.

My frustration surged with each stride, and I could feel Knox's gaze burning into me like a brand.

Every time I hit the boards or pivoted sharply, I imagined him standing there, assessing my every move, waiting for me to break.

But I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Not today.

I gritted my teeth and drove forward, channeling every ounce of anger into my skating. Each push felt like an act of rebellion—against him, against Chris, against whatever this chaotic mess had become.

“Faster!” Knox shouted from the sidelines, his voice slicing through the frigid air.

I shot him a glare but didn’t slow down.

Instead, I found another gear within myself and surged forward again.

It was about more than just practice; it was about everything that had spiraled out of control since last night—the kiss with Chris that felt so wrong yet left me feeling empty and wanting.

I skated harder until the ice beneath me blurred into a white haze.

Knox’s voice faded into the background as my mind raced through memories: his hands gripping my waist, the heat of his body pressed against mine in that locker room, in his office.

It felt like fire coursing through my veins, igniting something deep inside that craved more than just hockey.

“Get your head in the game!” Knox barked again.

With every lap around the rink, I pushed back harder—harder than ever before—as if trying to outrun not just him but also myself.

Each sharp turn became an outlet for all the emotions bubbling up within me—anger at Chris for even trying to kiss me when I knew where my heart truly lay and frustration at Knox for being so damn infuriatingly compelling.

As I took another hard turn near the boards, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were both playing a dangerous game—and neither of us wanted to admit how much we were willing to risk for it.

The whistle blew, echoing through the rink as Coach Callahan clapped his hands together. “All right, everyone, good work today! Get out of here, and don’t forget to hydrate!”

The team buzzed with excitement, laughter spilling into the cold air as they made their way to the door. I forced a smile and joined in, but my heart sank when I caught Knox's eye across the ice. He was leaning against the boards, arms crossed, jaw set.

“Evans. Stay,” he called out, voice sharp as glass.

The laughter faded as my teammates glanced back at me, expressions a mix of curiosity and sympathy. I offered a weak wave before they filed out, leaving me alone with him. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the noise and trapping me in this bubble of tension.

Knox stepped closer, his eyes piercing through me. “You’ve been sloppy lately.”

“Sloppy?” I echoed, frustration bubbling up. “I just skated my ass off.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You think that’s enough? You want that jersey? You’ve got to earn it.”

I swallowed hard as he moved to the center of the rink. The challenge in his gaze made my heart race—not from fear but from an intoxicating mix of anger and desire.

“Let’s go,” he said, motioning for me to follow.

Before I could think about it too much, I fell into step behind him as he led us to the far side of the rink. My breath quickened at the thought of what was coming next—he wasn’t going to let this slide easily.

“Suicides,” he announced abruptly.

I clenched my jaw but nodded. “Fine.”

“Not just one,” he added with a hint of menace in his tone. “As many as you can stomach."

My stomach dropped at that. What? The burn would be unbearable, but there was something about the challenge that made me want to push through it—push myself beyond limits I hadn’t even known existed.

“Ready?” Knox asked as he moved into position.

I steadied myself and took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

We started on his mark—my legs burning almost immediately with each sprint across the ice and back again.

“Come on! Move faster!” His voice cut through my exhaustion like a whip.

Each time I reached the far end and turned back, gasping for air, I could feel him watching me closely—assessing every movement—and it only fueled my determination further.

“You call that speed?” he barked again after what felt like an eternity.

“I’m going!” I shot back through gritted teeth as I pushed myself harder than ever before.