Page 23

Wyatt

“When was the last time you went ice-skating?” I ask, stepping onto the ice and turning to face Zane as he grips the rink’s edge like it’s his lifeline.

“Uh… seventh grade, maybe?” He squints like he’s searching his memory. “Field trip. We came to watch a game.”

He lifts one hesitant foot onto the ice. His usual easy smirk is in place, but the way his knuckles go white against the barrier tells a different story.

I bite back a grin. “C’mon,” I coax, holding my hands out to him, ready to skate backward and guide him like I used to do for my little cousins.

Zane swats my hands away, his pride kicking in. “I got this.” His tone is playful, but I don’t miss the flicker of determination in his eyes.

He’s always been stubborn. If someone doubts him, it only fuels him to push harder. It’s part of why he’s so relentless on the field, why he’s fought to carve his own legacy instead of living in the shadow of his father.

Still gripping the wall, he takes a cautious step onto the ice, then another. His legs wobble, and for a second, I think he’s going down, but then he finds his footing. With a deep breath, he pushes off, moving toward me in shaky strides.

When he’s close enough, I spin around and offer my hand. He takes it, his fingers lacing through mine, warm and firm.

“You’re doing great,” I tease, squeezing his hand when he stumbles slightly.

“You should see me on a football field,” he shoots back, his smirk tilting. “I’m a lot better when I’m not sliding around on ice with knives strapped to my feet.”

I laugh, and the sound blends with the music drifting through the speakers overhead. The crisp air bites at my cheeks as we settle into an easy rhythm, circling the rink for the third time.

A comfortable silence stretches between us until I finally ask, “Have you heard anything from your coach yet?”

Zane exhales, his breath visible in the cold air. “Not yet, but I’m sure I will soon.” His voice is flat, but I catch the tension behind it. “I’m bracing myself for the worst. If he benches me, that means I’ll be out for the conference championship.”

I slow slightly, turning to meet his gaze. “And if that happens…”

His jaw clenches. “The last game could be my last at Braysen.”

The weight of those words settles between us, thick and heavy.

This isn’t how he wanted his college career to end. Not like this.

“There’s still a chance,” he adds, forcing a shrug. “Even if I sit out, we could make the playoffs, but… it’s not how I wanted to go out, you know?”

I squeeze his hand again. “One game at a time, right?”

Zane nods, but something more lurks behind his eyes. A thought he isn’t ready to voice yet. I don’t press him. I know him well enough to understand he needs time to work through things on his own.

Before he can say anything else, a kid no older than ten zips past us, his arms flailing wildly. He clips Zane’s side, sending him off balance.

Zane swears under his breath as he stumbles—then, to my absolute delight, he goes down hard, landing straight on his ass.

I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter, but my shaking shoulders give me away.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Zane grumbles, scowling up at me.

I nod, still struggling to hold back a laugh. “A little bit.”

His eyes narrow. “You better skate fast, firecracker, because the second I get up, you’re going down with me.”

Challenge accepted.

I push off before he can grab me, laughing as I put some distance between us. Zane clambers to his feet, shaking his head, but the grin tugging at his lips tells me everything I need to know.

For a little while, at least, he’s not thinking about suspensions or headlines.

And that’s exactly what he needed.

Zane mutters, “Little jerk,” under his breath just as his skate catches on an uneven patch of ice. His body tilts sideways, and before he can steady himself, he grabs me—dragging me down with him.

“Oh shit,” he grits out right before we crash.

Well, to be clear, Zane crashes onto the ice. I land right on top of him.

“Smooth.” I snicker, wiggling slightly to push myself up.

The movement sends a sharp friction between us, my core pressing against his, and Zane’s body stiffens beneath me. A low growl rumbles in his throat, his breath hot against my ear.

“Careful, firecracker,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening around my hips. “I wouldn’t mind flipping you onto your back and fucking you right here.”

A soft gasp slips from my lips, and he chuckles darkly.

“Then again,” he muses, his voice a low tease, “I never took you to be into voyeurism.” He flicks a pointed glance at the dozens of people gliding across the ice, oblivious to us. “But maybe I was wrong.”

Heat burns through me, a stark contrast to the chill of the rink.

Zane lifts a gloved hand to my cheek, his thumb grazing the flushed skin. “I’ll never get over watching all the ways you blush for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise.

With effort, I push off him, standing on shaky legs before offering him a hand. He takes it, letting me pull him up, but even once we’re steady on our skates, he doesn’t let go. His hand lingers on my waist, his touch possessive.

Zane nods toward the exit, his expression shifting, something unreadable in his gaze.

I expect him to lead me back to the sitting area near the lockers, but instead, he tugs me down a dimly lit hallway I’ve never been in before.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my pulse spiking when he stops in front of a door and wraps his fingers around the handle.

The visitor’s locker room.

“Zane—”

The door creaks open.

He grins, that wicked smirk full of trouble, eyes gleaming in the low light.

“C’mon, firecracker,” he taunts, stepping inside. “Let’s have a little fun.”

I hesitate for only a second before he pulls me in, the door clicking shut behind us.

Our skates tapping against the rubber floor echo in the empty space. USA Junior Hockey League is painted on a banner above the metal stalls, and the faint scent of sweat and ice lingers in the air.

Zane kneels in front of me, his hands already reaching for my laces.

“What are we doing?” I ask, breathless as he slowly tugs at the ties, his knuckles grazing my ankles, then my calves.

He doesn’t answer right away. He finishes with my skates, setting them aside before standing and doing the same with his own.

The second he’s on his feet, I feel how much taller he is without the skates. I tilt my head back, my pulse thrumming in anticipation.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I nod, and his lips twitch.

“Good.” He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Turn around,” he orders, his fingers brushing the hair from my shoulder. “Lean forward.”

My breath catches.

There’s a delicious pause, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

I hesitate for half a second, but Zane is patient, his hands sliding down my arms, intertwining his fingers with mine, guiding me exactly where he wants me.

The metal locker is cool beneath my palms, a contrast to the fire pulsing through me.

Zane’s touch drags up my arm, over my shoulder, his fingertips skimming my jaw before his lips ghost against my neck.

“Do you know how hard it is not to touch you whenever we’re together?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over my skin. “Do you understand how big of a temptation you’ve always been to me?”

My chest rises and falls in rapid succession, my voice barely above a whisper. “No.”

Zane hums, his fingers tightening on my hips. “It’s why I held back for so long,” he admits. “Not just because I wasn’t ready—but because I knew once I had a taste, I’d never be able to let you go.”

His lips press against my pulse point, and I exhale shakily, my fingers clenching around the metal edge of the locker.

He takes a deep breath as if committing my scent to memory.

His grip tightens.

“And now?” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “Now that we’ve given in… now that the school year is ending, and the NFL is knocking on your door… what happens to us then?”

Zane stills.

He exhales slowly, his forehead pressing against the side of my head, his fingers curling at my waist.

“And now…” he echoes, his voice rough. “I don’t know how I’ll ever live without you.”

Something inside me shifts, sharp and certain.

“Who said you’d have to?”

My words come easier this time because I mean them. Zane is the only one standing in our way. I won’t let anything else come between us.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Wy,” he breathes. “I don’t want to live without you. I can’t.”

His voice cracks.

I press my back against his chest, letting him feel the way my heart races for him.

His fingers brush over the button of my jeans.

My breath catches.

And then he unbuttons them.

“Then take me. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Zane growls low in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. His grip on my hips tightens, and when I roll my body against his, there’s no denying how hard he is for me.

His control is hanging by a thread—I can feel it in the way his fingers dig into my skin, in the tension coiling through his muscles.

Without hesitation, I slip my hands beneath his and unbutton my jeans.

His voice is rough and commanding. “Hands on the wall, Wyatt.”

A shiver rolls down my spine as he presses me forward, my palms bracing against the cold metal of the locker. “And hold on tight, baby.”

My body trembles in anticipation, every nerve on fire. The sound of his belt unfastening fills the air, mingling with my own unsteady breaths. Then his hands are at my hips, jerking my jeans down in one swift motion. Cool air rushes over my exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling between my thighs.

“Spread your legs for me,” he orders, his voice thick with need.

I obey.

The second his tip brushes against my slick heat, a ragged moan rips from my throat. Zane leans in, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, his whispered words rasping against my skin.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Then he thrusts inside, hard and deep.

A strangled cry escapes me, muffled when he clamps his hand over my mouth.

“Shhh,” he breathes into my ear, his voice a sinful promise. “You have to keep it down, baby. Unless you want someone walking in here and seeing me buried in this tight pussy.”

My core clenches around him, and Zane groans.

Then he chuckles darkly. “Or maybe you do.”

His thrusts pick up speed, each one more punishing than the last. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the empty locker room, the steady rhythm sending a flush of heat through me.

I reach between my legs, circling my clit as Zane drives into me. He growls at the contact, his movements growing desperate.

“Fuck, that’s it. Rub that pretty pussy for me. You’re clenching me tighter when you do.”

I brace my other hand against the locker, chasing the building pleasure coiling deep in my belly. “I’m close,” I pant.

“Come with me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Zane’s hand tightens around my throat, his body pressing flush against mine as we shatter together. Pleasure crashes through me, sending him over the edge along with it. His firm hold is the only thing keeping me from collapsing as my legs tremble beneath me.

For a long moment, we stay there, tangled and breathless.

The words sit heavy on my tongue. Those three little words I’ve never said to him before. I don’t know if there was ever a defining moment, a clear shift, or if I’ve always loved Zane. All I know is that the feeling grows stronger every day I’m with him.

I don’t care about the future. About where we’ll be after he graduates. About what comes next.

I just want him.

Zane helps me clean up, tugging my underwear and jeans back into place before taking care of himself. I turn to face him, feeling steady on my feet again, just as his phone starts ringing.

The sharp sound cuts through the air, making us both freeze.

“Damn. Meant to put it on silent,” Zane mutters, reaching into his pocket. Reed’s name flashes across the screen. He answers.

“Hey, I’m out with Wya—” He pauses, his brows pulling together. “Oh shit. I forgot I asked you to look into that. What did you find?”

His expression sharpens. His grip on his phone tightens.

“I’m not in Braysen right now. We’re in Lancaster. But we can head back now. We’ll stop by the house when we get into town.”

I watch him run a hand through his hair, a telltale sign that whatever Reed is saying has him on edge.

“Can you just tell me now?” His gaze flicks to mine, tension stiffening his shoulders. He nods once, jaw flexing. “All right. We’ll see you soon.”

Zane pockets his phone, exhaling slowly.

“What’s going on?”

Instead of answering right away, he bends down, grabbing our skates before nodding toward the exit. I grab the door for him, and we sneak back down the hallway to the seating area.

Only when we’re out in the open again does he speak.

“The night I fought Luca, he made some comments about my dad. At the time, I thought he was just being a dick, making up shit to get under my skin. Like he did with Myla.”

I cross my arms, unease curling in my gut. “And?”

Zane exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “Reed offered to look into things, see what he could find out. I completely forgot about it until now.”

“Did he find something?”

Zane’s throat bobs. “Yeah. He wouldn’t tell me what. Just said we need to come over.”

Something heavy sits between us now, the weight of whatever truth is waiting on the other side of this.

I know that when we get back to town, Colter will be there. He’ll see me with Zane, and the secret we’ve been keeping won’t stay hidden much longer.

But right now, I don’t care.

Because whatever this is—whatever Zane is about to face—I want to be there for it.

For him.