26. Niall
CHAPTER 26
NIALL
Sweat trickled down my back, soaking into my jersey, but I barely noticed as it dripped along my spine. My body moved on autopilot, stick-handling through the drill with precision, pushing hard toward the net, but my mind was elsewhere—consumed with thoughts of Eli. For the past week, Eli and I had explored each other in ways I hadn’t expected. The image of him, flushed and breathless from last night, clung to me like the dampness of my shirt. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been craving this—this heat, this connection—until Eli. His soft skin, the way his lips had tasted so sweet against mine, the way he responded to me, like he wanted more, needed more. And I wanted to give it to him. All of it. From his breathless moans to the way he’d melted beneath me to those sharp little gasps when I’d touched him in ways I never thought I would touch another person. My body heated up at the thought, my pulse quickening, and the ache between my legs became unbearable. I should’ve been locked in, focused, dialing in on practice the way I always did, but with every breath, I was pulled back to Eli. Back to the way he felt in my arms, the softness of his skin, the taste of his lips—how he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
Coach AJ’s voice cracked through the fog of my mind like a whip. “Caldwell! What the hell was that?”
I snapped back to reality just in time to see the puck ricochet off my stick and slide past the goal like it had no direction at all.
Shit.
I tried to shake it off, skating back into position, my jaw tight with frustration. The thing was, no one had ever had this effect on me. I’d spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length, guarding my heart like it was fragile, like if I let anyone in, they’d leave me the way my parents had been taken from me. But Eli was different. The warmth of him in my arms, the way he fit against me—it made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t expected. And that scared the hell out of me. What if I gave him everything, let him see all the parts of me I’d hidden for so long, and he walked away?
I shook the thought away. I couldn’t let fear control me—not when Eli made me feel this way. Not when he made me feel like I was something more than the walls I’d spent years building around myself.
Roman skated by, slapping my helmet. “Hey, Cap, you sure you’re okay? You look a little... distracted.”
I scowled at him, my irritation flaring. “Shut up and skate.”
He just laughed, not taking offense. That was Roman for you—always quick with a joke, but never pushing too hard. Logan was quieter, but I could feel his eyes on me. It was hard to ignore the way the whole team seemed to be watching, noticing the shift in me. It wasn’t just Roman. It wasn’t just today. Something had changed, and they could all feel it.
I could see it in their faces—Logan’s smirk, Nico’s sideways glance. Hell, even Micah had stopped bitching about the drills long enough to give me a knowing look. They weren’t openly calling me out, but it was clear they’d picked up on the fact that I wasn’t all there. That I wasn’t as sharp as I usually was.
I couldn’t even blame them. This was the first practice in—I didn’t even know how long—where I wasn’t locked in like my life depended on it. But I couldn’t help it. Every time I tried to snap back, my brain fed me another image of Eli—his grin, his voice, the way he tucked his face against my neck when he was half-asleep, warm and trusting in my arms. Since that first night in Eli’s bed, it’s there I’ve slept, and it’s the best sleep I’ve had… well, after we’re finished getting nasty with each other.
Goddamn it.
Another drill. Another mistake. This time, I overskated the puck, catching an edge as I tried to recover.
Hunter let out a low whistle. “Shit, Cap. You sick or something? Or is it?—”
“A girl?” Logan finished, pulling his mask up and resting his forearm on top of his stick. “Gotta be a girl. Nothing else makes a man that stupid.”
A few of the guys laughed. Nico grinned at me like he knew something I didn’t. I forced my expression blank, but my stomach turned over. It was instinct, that sharp flicker of worry. What if they knew? What if they found out it wasn’t a girl making me act like this? What if?—
No.
I shoved the thought down and snorted, forcing myself to play along. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’d love to know all about my personal life, Hayes.”
Logan smirked. “So you admit it, then. There is someone.”
“I admit nothing.”
“You keep smiling like that, Cap, you don’t have to admit shit,” Hunter said. “It’s obvious.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Coach AJ, signaling that I was ready to go again. He didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide, launching us into another drill. This time, I gritted my teeth and pushed harder, digging in, putting everything I had into the next play.
It mostly worked.
By the time practice ended, I was soaked in sweat, and my teammates had mostly let it go—though I caught Roman and Nico still whispering about it as we hit the locker room. The room filled with the usual noise—clanging lockers, laughter, the sound of tape being ripped off of shin guards. Logan sat on the bench, meticulously re-lacing his skates for no reason, while Micah complained about a missed penalty in yesterday’s game—we’d played much better than we did against Colorado and won. Nico was trying to juggle three pucks at once. Roman threw a towel at his head when one went rolling under the bench.
I peeled off my jersey and slumped onto the bench, letting my head drop forward for a second. I should’ve been exhausted. Instead, anticipation thrummed low in my gut, growing stronger by the second. I checked the time on my phone. Almost there. Almost time.
I was staying late. I’d already told Coach I was working on extra skating drills, which wasn’t a lie. But the real reason—the only reason—was Eli. He was coming. He was going to be here, waiting for me after everyone else cleared out.
And fuck, I couldn’t wait.
* * *
Eli walked into the rink like he owned it. His golden hair was slightly tousled, his black hoodie hanging loose on his lean frame, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. The moment he spotted me, his lips curved into that damn smile—the one that messes me up every time, like he’s carrying the sun in his back pocket and decided to let me have a little warmth.
“Hey, Captain.”
My throat worked around a response, but all I managed was a rough, “Hey.”
Because this was different. This was the first time we’d done this since we became… whatever we are now. I didn’t know what to call it. Haven’t asked. Didn’t even know how to. My brain skated circles around itself, running drills I couldn’t make sense of. Eli just got out of a bad relationship. The last thing he needed was for me to slap a label on us like it’s a line change.
But I thought I wanted more.
Eli dropped onto the bench by the boards and put a foot up. His fingers moved deftly as he laced up his skates. There was something about the way he did it, practiced and sure, like he’d been tying them forever. No hesitation, no awkward fumbling. Just smooth, confident movements. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I already knew he could skate. And that fact did something to me. He wasn’t just here to humor me. He was here because he wanted to be. With me.
“You’re staring,” Eli said without looking up, tone light, teasing.
I snorted, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Not my fault you’re slow.”
He lifted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. “Slow? I’d smoke you in a race.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I stepped onto the ice first, rolling my shoulders, and tried to shake off the awkward energy tightening my chest. Eli joined me a moment later, gliding across the surface like it was second nature. He was good. I knew that already, but seeing it up close again like I had at the clinic, watching the way he moved, I couldn’t help but stare. He caught me watching and smirked.
“What? You didn’t think I was gonna fall on my ass, did you?”
I scoffed. “No. I figured you’d show off.”
He laughed, spinning in a lazy circle around me before falling into step beside me. “So tell me, Captain—how do you guys do it? All those shots, blocks, insane plays… and still keep your balance?”
I huffed a small laugh. “Years of practice. And core strength. Lots of core strength.”
He hummed like he was thinking about it, then grinned. “Bet I’ve got better balance than you.”
It was ridiculous, and he knew it. I raised a brow. “Wanna test that theor?—?”
He took off before I’d even finished my sentence. I cursed and chased after him; the sound of our skates cutting into the ice filled the empty rink. We weaved and dodged. Eli nearly crashed into the boards laughing, and I almost caught him twice before he faked me out, sending me skidding past him with a triumphant whoop.
I caught him a second later, an arm hooked around his waist as I pulled him to a stop. He stumbled into me, breathless, flushed, and warm despite the chill of the rink. His hands settled on my chest to steady himself, and for a moment, we just stood there, breathing each other in.
Eli’s breath was warm against my jaw, his fingers curling slightly into my hoodie like he was content to just stay there, pressed up against me. And maybe I wanted that too—just a little longer.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore how fast my heart was beating. “I, uh… had practice earlier.”
Eli tilted his head, his smile teasing. “Oh? You play hockey? News to me.”
I huffed a laugh, rolling my eyes. “Shut up.”
He grinned, but didn’t pull away.
“For the record,” I added, “it was a terrible practice. My mind wasn’t in it, and the guys noticed.”
His brows lifted. “What were you thinking about?”
I didn’t answer right away, but I know he saw it in my face.
Eli’s smile turned smug. “Oh, so that’s how it is.”
I shook my head, trying to fight off my own grin. “They assumed it was because of a girl.”
Eli’s expression flickered—something unreadable for just a second—but then he smirked. “I mean, I could be a girl if that helps.”
It was a joke. He’d said it with that light, playful confidence of his, the kind that always made it impossible not to react. But something about the way he said it, the way his eyes held mine, made my chest go tight.
I exhaled, a small laugh under my breath. “Idiot.”
His smirk softened just a little. “You like me, though.”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”
Eli tilted his head, studying me, and then, quieter, “What are we doing, Niall?”
My throat went dry. This. Us. The thing I hadn’t been able to name. The thing I’d wanted to name for a while now.
“I…” I let out a breath, and my fingers tightened on his waist. “I don’t know. What do you want us to be?”
Eli’s eyes searched mine, and then he smiled, smaller this time, but real. “I want to be your boyfriend.”
Something in my chest loosened, like I’d been holding my breath for weeks. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I swallowed hard, and the words came out before I could stop them. “Then be my boyfriend.”
Eli’s grin was blinding. “Okay, boyfriend.”
And then he skated away, laughing, like he’d just won something. Like he knew he would.
I chased after him, catching him around the waist again and pulling him back into me. His laughter dissolved into something softer as I kissed him, deep and lingering, until we were both breathless and smiling against each other’s lips.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” Eli teased, voice hushed between us.
I smirked, surprising even myself. “Guess I just needed the right motivation.”
He beamed. “Damn right you did.”
We skated side by side for what seemed like hours. Until the world outside the rink didn’t exist. Just us, the steady glide of our skates, the sharp chill of the air, and the easy rhythm we’d fallen into—like we’d been doing this forever.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with another person. Maybe I never had. Not like this.
Because it couldn’t have been with anyone else. Not like it was with Eli.
He made everything feel easy, like I didn’t have to try so hard to be anything other than exactly who I was. Like maybe this —the laughter, the teasing, the way he looked at me like I was someone worth holding onto—was something I could have.
Something I wanted .
Eventually, we had to call it a night. We skated over to the benches, sitting side by side as we unlaced our skates. Eli groaned dramatically as he yanked his skates off, flexing his feet. “I swear, my toes forgot how to function.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that happens.”
He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Worth it, though.”
I glanced at him, at the easy smile on his lips, and felt that familiar pull. Like he was gravity, and I couldn’t help but fall toward him.
We switched to our regular shoes, grabbed our things, and pushed through the doors, stepping out into the cold. The rink’s exterior lights cast long shadows across the pavement, the night quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.
That’s when I saw a figure dressed in dark clothes walking fast along the side of the building. My body tensed, instincts kicking in before I even registered why. The rink was supposed to be empty now.
Eli followed my gaze. “Someone else here?”
I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the person. The way he carried himself—the squared shoulders, the solid build, the purposeful stride—it was unmistakable. I’d spent too many hours on the ice with him not to recognize it.
Hunter.
Where was he going? The only thing along that side of the building was another entrance to the arena.
The light above the door flickered, and for a split second, it caught his face. That confirmed it.
I reacted before I could think. “Hunter?”
He froze mid-step.
Slowly, he turned toward us, yanking an earbud out.
Eli shifted beside me.
A beat of silence stretched between us before Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets. “Forgot something in the locker room,” he said, too quickly, like he’d rehearsed it.
Bullshit.
Eli didn’t seem to catch the lie, but I did. I knew that look—the quick deflection, the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. I’d done the same thing a hundred times when I didn’t want anyone to know what was really going on with me.
Hunter was hiding something.
But I didn’t call him on it.
Because while part of me was trying to piece together why he was here so late, another part—the one still caught up in Eli, in the way I’d let my guard down tonight—was suddenly panicking.
Hunter had seen us.
Maybe he didn’t care, but the fact someone else had been here at all made my pulse spike.
I wasn’t ready.
And even though we hadn’t done anything, hadn’t kissed or touched or done anything that would’ve given us away out here, we had done a hell of a lot of kissing and touching while we skated. My chest tightened with something dangerously close to panic.
Because I wasn’t ready.
I knew I’d have to come out, eventually. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could keep this hidden forever. But the idea of someone else—someone on my team—knowing before I was ready? That was something I wasn’t prepared for.
Hunter lingered for a second longer, then nodded once and walked past the side entrance. But wasn’t he supposed to get something in his locker? Or, perhaps, he’d already gotten what he needed? Ugh! I was overthinking everything and nothing.
Eli nudged me. “You okay?”
I forced a breath and a smirk. “Yeah. Just didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted.
And I had no idea what it meant.