Chapter 15 Ollie
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OLLIE
The rink smells of ice and effort, as soon as I step into the facility. My skates hit the floor, and I can feel the tension of the day already pressing against my shoulders.
“Morning, boys,” Jacko says, voice calm but authoritative, already running through the day’s drills in his head.
Dylan’s eyes are half-lidded, his expression unreadable as always, and Murphy is grumbling under his breath about everything from the new training regime to someone stealing his water bottle last week.
I stretch, letting the ache in my left hip whisper reminders of its stubbornness. Every day it’s the same game, push past the discomfort, hide the weakness, smile, joke, and make sure the guys never see me falter.
And then there’s Chloe.
I can’t stop thinking about her. The connection at the café yesterday, the way she laughed at my bad jokes, the way her eyes seem to read right through me, even in the middle of chaos, she’s there, in my head. Observant. Dangerous.
“Ollie!” Jacko’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Focus.”
“Right,” I mutter, shaking myself loose, gliding toward the drills.
The first set of suicides hits like a hammer. Dylan’s wall-like presence dominates the ice, Murphy’s intensity is palpable, Jacko is the calm anchor, and I, well, I’ve got fire, speed, and stubborn pride. And as always, I can’t let the guys see the mental drift that Chloe causes. Not here, not now.
During a brief water break, Murphy leans against the boards, towel over his shoulder, grinning despite the morning drills. “Oi, Ollie, you’ve got that look,” he says, eyes narrowing, mischievous. “Like you’re planning something. Don’t tell me it’s another sabotage attempt on Dylan’s ego?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Nah. Just thinking.”
Murphy raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Thinking about your next date, are we? Or Tabloid Girl schemes?”
I stiffen slightly but cover it with a grin. “Maybe thinking about hockey.”
“Sure,” Murphy mutters, smirking, knowing full well he’s called me out but letting it slide. That’s Murphy for you, banter, ego, and just enough trust to make teasing feel like affection.
Jonno blows his whistle. “Back to drills. Eyes on the prize, boys.”
The next two hours are a blur of sprints, drills, and crashes into the boards.
My hip nags, subtle but insistent, but I hide it behind a grin, a sharp check, a perfectly-timed shove into Dylan’s shoulder, because I can’t let weakness show.
I catch glimpses of Murphy glancing my way, probably teasing me mentally about my pacing, but he doesn’t say anything.
Dylan doesn’t break his brooding, and Jacko just catalogues everything with quiet precision.
And then it’s over.
The guys begin peeling off skates, tossing helmets, laughing, joking.
Murphy’s back to his old self, teasing Jacko about last night’s protein bar disaster, Dylan’s scowl softens in the corner as Mia tugs at his arm, Jacko’s baking efforts earn a quiet nod from everyone, and I’m trying not to think about Chloe.
Not easy when my phone buzzes.
Chloe: Hope your drills were productive. Coffee? Might need to debrief.
I bite back a laugh and a groan simultaneously. Professionalism, Ollie. Don’t blow it.
Ollie: Maybe. Later.
By evening, the pub is alive with the usual chaos.
Raucous laughter, clinking glasses, the smell of fries and beer, the warmth of team camaraderie.
Murphy’s in full form, animatedly recounting some ridiculous story about Sophie and Finn, Jacko is calm but clearly entertained, Dylan and Mia share glances, and Lila is sitting cross-legged on the bench between the tables, holding Finn like a tiny, adored trophy.
She’s babbling at him, gesturing wildly, making sure everyone knows she’s in charge.
I sip my pint, trying to settle, when my eyes catch movement by the doorway.
Chloe.
She’s slipped in quietly, scanning the room, notebook tucked under her arm. My pulse quickens. She’s here. She could see me. She could…what? Join us? Probably not. She doesn’t belong in this world, not yet, not while I’m trying to protect her from the team’s judging banter.
She hesitates, then ducks back out before I can do anything. I swallow hard, eyes narrowing. Damn it. I can’t just let her leave. Not when she’s right there.
I set my glass down, standing abruptly. “Excuse me,” I mutter, threading through the chaos of tables, careful to keep it casual, not drawing attention. Murphy notices and raises a brow, Dylan smirks knowingly, but Jacko just shakes his head, muttering something about me being hopeless.
I step outside just in time to catch Chloe at the corner, her coat wrapped tight around her, hair catching the pub lights.
“You really can’t stay away, can you?” I call, grinning.
She rolls her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitches. “And you can’t leave well enough alone, Taylor.”
“I could, if you want me to,” I tease, stepping closer. “I can walk you home, keep you safe from rogue hockey fans and impatient teammates.”
Her laugh is soft, almost melodic, and she shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. I can manage.”
“I insist,” I reply, voice low, playful. “Or we could just disappear together. Avoid Murphy’s lectures, Dylan’s broody stares, Jacko’s passive-aggressive judging…”
She raises a brow, smirk tugging at her lips. “Sounds tempting…for you maybe, not me. I’m fine, really.”
I groan dramatically. “Fine? You? Never. You’ve got this irresistible streak of chaos I can’t ignore. And right now, it’s driving me insane that you’re out here pretending you’re untouchable.”
Her eyes flash, amused and wary. “You’ve got some nerve, Taylor.”
“And you like it,” I counter, voice teasing, warm. “Admit it.”
She shakes her head, but her lips twitch. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re perfect at making me feel like an idiot,” I say, stepping a fraction closer, my hand brushing against the sleeve of her coat.
Her eyes widen, breath catching in the cold air, and for a split second, the world narrows down to the two of us.
I reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, thumb ghosting her cheek. The air between us sizzles, thick with tension and all the words we haven’t said.
“You’re reckless,” she whispers.
“And you’re irresistible,” I reply, low, teasing, dangerous.
Her eyes widen, a spark of thrill mixed with caution.
She takes a half-step back, but the pause is fleeting, a tease of permission.
My heart hammers. One step closer, and I press just slightly, enough that our lips almost touch, a whisper of heat, a brush of skin, before she shakes her head, laughing softly but nervously. “No. Not here. Not this.”
I grin, frustrated and exhilarated, taking a half-step back. “Fine. I guess. But don’t think this is over.”
We linger in the cold for a few more moments, stolen glances, playful smirks, the almost-kiss burning between us. Finally, she pulls away, heading down the street. I watch her go, heartbeat still hammering, a mixture of thrill and frustration.
And I can’t stop thinking about her.
Back inside, the pub is alive with chaos.
Murphy’s telling an elaborate story about Jacko’s midnight baking experiments, Dylan is shaking his head, Mia is laughing, Jacko is just amused, and Lila is still holding court with Finn.
Lecturing him about how the world operates, while Sophie and Maya watch on. It’s pure, chaotic, and family-like.
I slip back in quietly, slipping past the group. Murphy notices, grinning. “Where’d you go? Bathroom break, or following someone mysterious?”
I shrug, attempting casual. “Fresh air.”
“Uh-huh,” Murphy says knowingly. “Fresh air, right. Must be a woman again.”
I chuckle, shaking my head, careful to avoid drawing too much attention. The guys are used to my teasing banter, but Chloe? That’s a different level. She’s off-limits. Complicated. Dangerous. And yet…irresistible.
The rest of the night blurs with the team’s chatter, laughter, and the warmth of friends and family. But my mind keeps drifting back to Chloe and the brush of her hand, the almost-kiss, her laughter in the cold.
Professional mask firmly in place, but heart messy as hell underneath.