Chapter 29 Ollie
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OLLIE
The rink is colder than usual when I arrive, that sharp bite of air hitting the back of my throat as soon as I step onto the ice. Early morning skates always feel like punishment, but today there’s an edge to it. Game day tension settling in my chest like a weight I can’t shake.
Jacko’s already circling, the bastard. Smooth as ever, his strides look effortless, while mine still feel like I’m dragging a set of concrete boots. He spots me and smirks.
“Morning, sunshine. Bit late, aren’t we?”
I grunt, pushing off harder than I mean to. “I’m five minutes early.”
“Exactly,” he says, breezing past me. “I’ve been here fifteen. Dedication.”
I roll my eyes, but truth is, I like having him here. Jacko’s not just captain material; he’s the kind of guy you can pace yourself against. Always pushing. Always steady. I chase him for a few laps, legs burning, lungs opening, until the rhythm settles in.
Jonno barks from the boards, “Line drills! Move it!”
We line up, shoulders heaving, and I fall into the rhythm of sprints, crossovers, backward skates.
It’s brutal. My thighs are screaming before we even start the stickhandling circuits.
The ice feels smaller when you’re chasing pucks like a madman, but that’s the point; sharpen the edges, tighten the reflexes.
By the time Jonno calls it, sweat is dripping down my neck and my shirt is plastered to my back. My legs feel like jelly, but it’s a good kind of pain. The kind that reminds you it’s game day.
Jacko skates over, slapping his stick against mine. “Not bad, kid. You might survive tonight.”
“Might,” I wheeze.
He laughs, patting my helmet. “Come on. Let’s hit the showers before Jonno invents another drill.”
We end up at the community bakery where Maya works around noon.
The place smells like heaven, warm cinnamon and fresh bread wrapping around me the moment we step in.
Maya’s behind the counter, hair pulled into a messy bun, flour streaking her cheek.
She looks up, and her face lights like she’s genuinely glad to see us.
“Owen. Ollie. You’re early.”
“Hungry,” Jacko says, grinning. “And we’ve got a growing boy here.” He claps my shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “You just want an excuse to eat three pastries without Maya giving you grief.”
“Correct,” he says cheerfully.
Maya laughs and waves us toward a table. “Sit. I’ll bring you something. Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I say. My legs still ache from the drills, and coffee sounds like salvation.
Jacko heads for his usual corner, already making himself at home. I trail after him, trying not to look as knackered as I feel. The place is quiet, just the hum of ovens in the back.
When Maya sets down coffee and a tray of sandwiches that look big enough to feed a rugby team, Jacko digs in immediately. I sip my coffee first, grateful for the warmth.
It’s comfortable, sitting here with them. Maybe too comfortable. Because before I can stop myself, I say it, “I think I’m in trouble.”
Jacko pauses mid-bite, eyebrows raised. “Trouble?”
Maya tilts her head, giving me her full attention. She’s got that calm, grounding presence that makes you want to spill everything.
I rub a hand over my face. “With Chloe. I mean, we’ve been… seeing each other. A bit. And it’s,” I break off, groaning. “It’s a lot.”
Jacko smirks knowingly. “Define ‘a bit.’”
I glare at him. “Don’t start.”
Maya sets her elbows on the table, chin resting in her palm. “Do you like her?”
“Yes,” I say, maybe too quickly. “God, yes. She’s,” I falter, trying to put it into words.
Chloe’s laughter. The way she fires back when I tease her.
The fact that kissing her feels like I’ve been starving and she’s the only thing that feeds me.
“She’s brilliant. And terrifying. And I can’t stop thinking about her. ”
Maya smiles softly. “That doesn’t sound like trouble. That sounds like falling for someone.”
Jacko leans back in his chair, arms folded. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Murphy. The team,” I admit, dropping my voice. “You know what they’re like. If they find out, they’ll ostracise me after what happened between her and Murph. And Chloe’s part of this world now. The whole shadowing the team thing. I don’t want to make her life harder.”
Jacko studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I get it. But hiding it? That’s harder. Secrets have a way of blowing up in your face.”
Maya adds gently, “People care more than you think. And the ones who matter? They’ll respect you both.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Why are you two so reasonable? I was hoping for ‘Yeah, keep sneaking around, sounds fun.’”
Jacko chuckles. “Sneaking around is fun. Until it’s not.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Maya reaches over, touching my arm lightly. “Look, I know about the whole debacle with Murphy, Owen filled me in, but if Chloe makes you happy, that’s what matters. The rest, you’ll figure it out.”
I nod, throat tight. She makes it sound so simple.
Jacko claps me on the back hard enough to nearly send me into my sandwich. “Now eat up. You’ll need the energy tonight.”
Game night hits like a storm. The rink is packed, the roar of the crowd vibrating through my chest as we line up. My nerves buzz, but once the puck drops, instinct takes over.
The first period is chaos. Hits come fast and heavy. Shoulder to shoulder, sticks clashing, blades carving sharp lines into the ice. I take a hard check into the boards, ribs rattling, but I bounce back up, adrenaline surging.
Jacko’s a wall out there, throwing his weight around like he’s indestructible. Murphy’s chirping non-stop, winding up the other team until tempers flare. By the time the second period rolls around, fists are flying.
I grab a guy by the jersey, shoving him off one of our rookies. He swings wild; I duck and land a shot to his gut. The ref’s whistle is shrill, but the crowd is deafening, eating it up.
We end up in the box, breathing hard, sweat dripping down my temples. Murphy leans over with a grin. “Nice hands, Ollie. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
I flip him off, grinning despite myself.
We’re up by one heading into the third, but it’s brutal, fast, punishing, every stride a battle. By the time the final buzzer sounds and we’ve scraped out the win, I’m running on fumes.
The locker room is chaos after. Helmets clattering, music blaring, Murphy already leading some kind of victory chant. I shower quick, half-dazed, my body screaming in protest.
That’s when Chloe finds me.
She slips in through the side door, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. She’s supposed to be professional, I know that. But when her gaze meets mine, the world tilts.
“You okay?” she asks, voice low.
“Better now,” I murmur, pulling her into the shadows near the showers.
It’s reckless. Stupid. But the second her lips are on mine, I don’t care.
Heat flares, urgent and unstoppable. The roar of the team fades into background noise as I press her against the tiles, kissing her like I’ll die if I stop. Her hands are in my hair, mine are on her waist, and everything else disappears.
We’re careful at first, listening for footsteps, holding back. But the hunger takes over. Her breath is ragged in my ear, when she whispers, “Ollie, someone could…”
“I don’t care,” I growl against her mouth. And I don’t. Not when she feels this good. Not when every second with her feels stolen, precious.
It’s fast, frantic, water pounding from the shower above us, steam curling around our bodies. The tiles are cold, her skin is warm, and I can’t get close enough.
And then.
“OI!”
We freeze.
Murphy’s voice cracks like a whip off the tiles, sharp and furious.
“What the actual fuck is this?”
Chloe stiffens in my arms, her nails digging into my shoulders. I turn slowly, dread flooding my gut.
Murphy’s in the doorway, towel knotted tight at his waist, eyes blazing. There’s no grin. No smirk. Just raw anger.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he spits, jabbing a finger in Chloe’s direction. “Her? In our locker room? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Chloe shrinks back, face pale, but I step in front of her on instinct. My voice comes out low, defensive. “Murph, just listen…”
“Listen?” His laugh is short and bitter. “I did my time with her. I paid the price when she plastered my name across every tabloid in the country. I nearly lost Sophie because of her. You think I forgot that?”
The weight of his glare pins me in place. He’s not just pissed, he’s betrayed.
“This isn’t just about you getting your dick wet,” he snarls. “This is about the team. About trust. And you’ve dragged her back into the fold? Jesus Christ, Taylor. Do you even realise what you’re risking?”
My stomach twists, shame clawing its way up my throat. Chloe presses her face into my back, silent, but trembling.
“Murphy,” I try again, my chest tight. “It’s not what you think. She’s not like,”
“Not like what?” he cuts me off, fury snapping in his eyes. “Not like the puck bunny who tried to ruin me and my relationship? Not like the reason I had to spend months rebuilding my relationship while every idiot online called me a joke?”
The locker room hum beyond the showers feels suddenly too close, the voices of our teammates muffled but there. If they hear this, if this blows up here, we’re screwed.
Murphy shakes his head in disgust. “Unbelievable. Of all the people in the world, you pick her.”
His voice drops, cold and final. “You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your career, mate.”
And then he turns, storming out, leaving the weight of his words crushing down on us both.