Page 3

Chapter three

~ AVERY~

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby on my first night here. I figured I’d be tossing and turning, but I was out cold the second my head hit the pillows. I’d woken up actually rested, though it took a couple of seconds to remember where I was and a few more to remember which turn to take to get to the ground floor.

Rowan’s house is… massive. Like the kind of massive where you could get lost trying to find the bathroom. It’s all clean lines, glass, and marble—basically an architectural wet dream. The whole place screams, “I’m a billionaire, and you know it,” but it’s not as cold as one might think. Somehow, he’s managed to make it feel lived-in, like a high-end magazine cover, but one where you’d actually want to kick off your shoes.

The kitchen’s no exception. It’s all marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances connected to a living room that could fit five of my dorm rooms inside.

Rowan co-owns a huge real estate agency along with Damien and Ares, which is how he managed to get all three houses built right next to each other so quickly. The land was a huge ranch that their company had listed, and the three decided to buy and split it instead—brothers by choice and all.

“I have to go practice with the guys today. Would you like to come watch?” Rowan sets a plate of eggs and toast in front of me, barely looking up from his phone.

“Watch? Like… at the rink?” I blink, my fork hovering in midair.

He finally glances at me, his brow raised. “No, the freeway.”

“Right,” I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips. It’s been so long since I’ve been to an ice rink. Too long. “Sure, I’ll come.”

“Good.” He nods and takes a bite from his eggs.

“Is it okay if Sarah comes with us?” I ask and take a sip of my coffee.

“Sure.” He shrugs as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

I eagerly pull out my phone to send her a text. She’d make this whole thing easier to handle.

ME : Practice with the guys today, come with me? Rowan’s dragging me to the rink, and I need backup.

Her reply is instant.

SARAH : Hell, yes. Send me the address.

I breathe a little easier knowing she’ll be there, but the anxiety’s already creeping in from the thought of being near the rink again. I haven’t seen the guys play in person since… I can’t even remember. Every time I’ve watched from a distance, it’s been safe, behind a screen.

Sarah and I meet at the rink an hour later, Rowan leading the way into the arena. It smells like ice and adrenaline—the cold air sharp in my lungs, and the familiar, bittersweet scent of the rink flooding my senses.

We settle into seats near the glass, where the players are already warming up. I see Ares first. He’s hard to miss—tall and stoic, stretching out near the goal. His jet-black hair is slightly damp, falling across his forehead as his icy-blue eyes focus on the ice ahead of him. It’s like he’s somewhere else, lost in his own head.

“Wow,” Sarah whispers, nudging me. “They weren’t kidding about Ares being a beast. He’s like a freaking statue.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, though my eyes aren’t on Ares anymore.

Damien skates onto the ice next, sliding effortlessly across the rink. He’s all confidence, the kind that’s almost infuriating, but there’s something about seeing him here, in this space. He looks natural, at ease yet powerful. The way he holds himself and the way his body moves are like the ice was made for him, not the other way around.

He shoots a glance in our direction, his hazel eyes barely grazing mine before shifting back to his teammates.

Did he see me?

I force myself to look away, but the truth is, I can’t stop watching him. After Rowan gathers everyone to tell them something I can’t hear, they all scatter across the rink. With a blow of the whistle, they’re off.

“They’re so fast,” Sarah breathes with awe. “Look at Damien.”

I do. Damien’s in full motion now, cutting through defenders like it’s nothing, each movement packed with force. He’s aggressive and focused. And Rowan, it’s as if he can read the ice and predict where the puck will be before it’s even there. My eyes are on Damien again, trying my best not to lose track of him. Every turn, every pivot, is calculated, but with a kind of raw power that makes my chest tighten.

I haven’t felt this pull toward the ice in so long. Seeing them move like that… it reminds me of why I loved it and why I miss it.

“God,” I whisper, my breath fogging up the glass in front of me. I can feel my hands trembling slightly.

How long has it been since I’ve been on the ice?

Too long.

Ares blurs past my line of sight. One second, he’s at the blue line, and the next, he’s already behind the defense, taking a shot. It’s like he teleports, too fast to follow, too sharp to predict.

“Jesus, did you see that?” Sarah exclaims. “He’s like a freaking ghost.”

I nod, still unable to peel my eyes away. Watching them lights something in me. Something I thought I buried after the accident.

“I miss it,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure Sarah hears me.

But she does. “Why don’t you get back out there?”

I shake my head. “You know why. It’s been too long. Besides, Rowan would never allow it.”

“Rowan may be the team’s captain, but he’s not your captain, Avery. You’re an adult. You can do whatever the hell you want.” She pauses, then adds with a sly smile, “Maybe you should ask Damien to help you. He’d love to be your coach, I bet.”

I roll my eyes, even though the thought of it sends my nerves buzzing. “Sarah, I can’t go back there. I’d have to start from the basics again. It’s been too long.”

“And?” She crosses her arms.

“You think an actual professional athlete playing for the NHL would want to teach someone how to skate in a straight line without breaking their nose?” I counter.

She just rolls her eyes. “Come on, just think about it. What’s the harm in asking one of them to skate with you, even if it’s just once?”

What’s the harm?

“I don’t know.” I bite my lip, but her words echo in my head for the rest of practice.

No matter how hard I try to push it away, it comes back. I want to get back on the ice. It’s all I’ve been thinking about on the way home. Back at Rowan’s house, I sit down on the kitchen island while he makes us smoothies.

“I need a shower. You okay if we order something today?” He looks back at me as he chops up fruit, pausing for a moment. “I’m too exhausted to cook,” he adds. Rowan’s never been one to hire anything more than cleaning and maintenance staff who come, do their job, and get out of his way. His words, not mine. He doesn’t like people lingering around his house for too long. He says it unnerves him. But it’s not the food I’m thinking about right now. I fidget with the hem of my T-shirt, trying to figure out the right way to approach it. Skating again. I need him on my side, at least a little.

“I really enjoyed watching you guys at practice today,” I admit truthfully.

“I’m glad.” He gives me a smile and slides our glasses closer to the blender.

“Rowan, I’ve been thinking,” I start, glancing at him nervously, “about getting back on the ice. Maybe just practicing, nothing too serious.”

He doesn’t even look up. “No.”

“Rowan, stop being like this.” It’s not that his response wasn’t expected, but I’m still disappointed. “You took me back there, and you thought I wouldn’t feel some type of, I don’t know, nostalgia, at least?”

“We’ve talked about this,” he says, his tone cold and final. “You barely made it out of that accident.”

“I won’t skate with a partner again, so the risk is minimal. Besides, you’re a hockey player. You’ve had accidents, too,” I counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Not as serious as yours, Avery. We wear gear for a reason. You don’t. I’m not letting you risk that again, even without a partner. I can’t.”

His words sting, and their sharpness cuts deeper than I expect. I glance down at the scar on my leg, constantly reminding me of what happened.

“I miss it, Rowan,” I say quietly.

“I know you do,” he says, still not looking up. The muscle on his jaw ticks, and he finally turns to face me, pain etched onto his features. “But no. I can’t. I almost lost you back then. I refuse to pull the devil by the tail and let you back on the ice.”

Frustrated, I recall Sarah’s words. I could ask Ares. He’s quiet, but maybe that’s the kind of focus I need.

But the thought of approaching him, of interrupting that ice-cold wall he keeps around him, feels too daunting.

Sarah’s words come back to me. Damien.

But before I can fully think about it, Rowan pushes the smoothie toward me, his expression softening just enough to be apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Av,” he adds gravely.

“It’s fine, I get it,” I lie. Truth is, I’ve already made up my mind.

Later that night, I’m in my room, trying my best to focus on my book, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The way I felt watching them—the ache to be back out there.

Before I know it, my feet have carried me downstairs. Rowan’s silhouette is visible as he sits on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. I grab my hoodie and slip out of the house, needing some air. Rowan lives on a hill that houses three mansions tucked together in the most exclusive part of town. Security patrols the perimeter at all times, and for the first time ever, I feel like I could walk around at night without looking over my shoulder. It’s quiet here, safe. I need out of my head, and with the help of Sarah’s words still echoing in my mind, my feet lead me down the path toward Damien’s house.

My heart pounds as I stand outside his door.

This is crazy. Stupid.

But my hand’s already reaching up, knuckles hovering just over the wood.

I take a deep breath. And knock.