Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
OLLIE
Murphy’s words are still ricocheting in my skull long after he storms out of the showers. Biggest mistake of your career.
I’ve taken hits that left my ears ringing, but nothing like this.
Chloe’s fingers are still clutching at me, trembling. Her face is buried against my chest like she wants to disappear. My heart is hammering so hard I swear she can feel it.
“Ollie…” Her voice cracks, small and broken, and I hate it. Hate that Murphy’s fury just gutted her.
“Hey, hey,” I murmur, dragging a hand through her damp hair, trying to keep my voice steady. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t. He doesn’t get to…”
But I can’t even finish because my gut twists. He does get to. He has every right. She hurt him, and now here I am, tangled up with her, risking everything.
I press a kiss to her forehead anyway. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not letting him scare you off.”
But even as I say it, my stomach sinks.
By the time we towel off and pull our clothes back on, the adrenaline has curdled into dread. I can feel it crawling under my skin as we walk toward the lockers. Every step feels like a countdown to detonation.
The boys are loud as ever, laughing, shouting, music blaring from someone’s speaker. The air reeks of sweat, liniment, and victory. Normally, I’d be buzzing right along with them. Tonight? I feel like I’m carrying a live grenade in my chest.
Murphy’s at his stall, jaw tight, hands moving sharp and angry as he shoves his gear into his bag. He doesn’t even look at me, but I feel the heat rolling off him.
Jacko glances up from unlacing his skates. His brows pinch as he clocks the tension, the way Murphy’s shoulders are coiled, the way Chloe hovers behind me like she wishes the floor would swallow her whole.
“Ol?” Jacko asks slowly, voice low, careful. “Everything good?”
I force a grin, too wide, too fake. “Yeah, course. Just… tired.”
Murphy snorts, loud and bitter, but still doesn’t look up.
The room goes on around us, oblivious, and I thank God for it. The last thing I need is the whole team turning on Chloe.
I touch her hand, subtle. “Go wait in the car,” I murmur, handing her my keys.
She hesitates, eyes searching mine. I can see the panic there, the guilt. It kills me.
“I’ll be right there,” I promise.
Finally, she nods and slips out. My chest hollows the second she’s gone.
Which is when Murphy explodes.
“The fuck are you doing, Taylor?” His voice slices through the locker room, sharp enough to cut. The laughter dies. Every head turns.
My stomach free-falls.
“Murph,” I hiss, shooting him a glare, praying he’ll shut up, at least until we’re alone.
But Murphy’s never been the type to hold his tongue.
“You think we wouldn’t notice?” he snarls. “You sneaking around with her in here? After what she did to me? To this team?”
The room goes dead silent.
I feel like I’m about to be sick.
“Murph, what’s this about?” Jonno pipes up from the corner, frowning.
“Nothing,” I bite out, too fast, too desperate.
Murphy laughs without humour. “Not nothing. He’s shagging the fucking tabloid leech who torched my life. As if it’s not shit enough that she’s shadowing the team all season, you’re fucking her.”
The words hit like a punch. The air shifts, thick and ugly.
Dylan rises slowly, his presence alone enough to steady the room. His eyes cut to me, hard but not cruel. “Ollie. That true?”
Every muscle in my body screams to deny it. To laugh it off. To make some joke. But I can’t.
I nod once. “Yeah.” My throat is raw. “It’s true.”
A ripple goes through the room - shock, disbelief, a muttered you’ve gotta be kidding me.
Murphy’s shaking his head like he can’t believe my stupidity. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You bring her in to the circle, and you drag all of us down with you.”
“She’s not like that anymore,” I snap, heat flaring in my chest. “She made a mistake, okay? She’s different now. She’s… she’s good.”
Murphy barks a laugh. “You think with your dick, mate, not your head. She’ll ruin you. And when she does, she’ll take us all with her.”
Something inside me cracks. “You don’t know her like I do!” I shout.
The silence after hangs heavy.
Jacko steps forward, calm but firm. “Alright. Enough. This isn’t the place.” His eyes pin me. “Ollie. Go.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. Part of me wants to keep fighting, to prove Chloe isn’t what Murphy says she is. But Jacko’s tone leaves no room for argument.
So I grab my bag and get the hell out, the weight of everyone’s stares burning into my back.
The night air is cold when I step outside. Chloe’s in the car, hands clenched tight in her lap, her face pale and stricken. She looks up as I slide in, and the question’s already in her eyes.
“How bad?” she whispers.
I scrub a hand over my face, exhaling hard. “Bad.”
Her lip trembles. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”
“No,” I say fiercely, grabbing her hand. “You didn’t ruin anything. This is on me. I should’ve been smarter. Should’ve - I don’t know.” My chest aches. “But I’m not sorry, Chloe. I couldn’t stay away from you if I tried.”
Her eyes well, tears she’s fighting hard to hold back. “Murphy’s right. They’ll hate me. They’ll never forgive me.”
“Then they’ll have to deal with it,” I say, reckless and certain. “Because I’m not letting them scare me off you. Not him. Not anyone.”
Her shoulders shake, and I pull her across the console into my arms. She clings to me, and I swear I’ll fight every single person in that locker room if that’s what it takes.
Even as dread gnaws at me, there’s one truth louder than all the noise. I want her.
The fallout comes fast.
The next morning, my phone’s already buzzing off the hook before I’m even out of bed. Messages from the guys. A couple from management. One from Coach.
Coach: We need to talk. Today.
Chloe stirs beside me, eyes heavy with sleep. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I lie, tucking the phone under the pillow. I kiss her hair, breathing her in, clinging to the one place that still feels safe.
But even I can feel the walls closing in.
Coach doesn’t mince words when I show up at the rink.
“You realise the position you’ve put us in?” His tone is sharp, but not shouting. Which is worse. Controlled. Deadly serious.
I shift on my feet, heat crawling up my neck. “I know. I just,”
“No excuses,” he cuts in. “You’ve got every right to live your life how you want. But dragging her into this locker room for sex? After everything with Murphy? That’s reckless, Taylor. Stupid.”
Shame burns through me, but I lift my chin. “She’s not like that. Not anymore.”
Coach’s eyes narrow, like he’s weighing up how much I actually know. Then he huffs out a laugh with no humour in it. “Christ, you really don’t have a clue, do you?”
My stomach knots. “A clue about what?”
He hesitates, just a beat, but it’s enough. Then he says it, blunt as a hammer.
“Her old man is the reason you’ve even got a team to play for. He’s been bankrolling us for years. Main sponsor. Without him, there’s no Raptors.”
The bottom drops out of my gut. “What?”
“You heard me,” Coach says flatly. “So, you sneaking around with his daughter isn’t just awkward, it’s a goddamn bomb waiting to go off. If it gets out, if he even thinks she’s being dragged through the mud again because of this team - because of you - we’re all screwed.”
I can barely breathe. I’d known dating Chloe was risky, but this? This is career-ending. Not just mine, everyone’s.
Coach jabs a finger at me. “You better think very carefully about what you want here, Ollie. Because this isn’t just about feelings. It’s about the future of this entire franchise.”
Practice is brutal. Murphy avoids me like the plague, which almost hurts more than his rage. The rest of the boys are stiff, cautious, unsure. The easy banter’s gone, replaced with something tense and brittle.
I skate harder than I’ve ever skated in my life, lungs on fire, legs screaming, trying to prove something I can’t even name. That I’m still worth their trust. That I won’t let Chloe’s past destroy what we’re building. That I won’t let us be ruined.
By the time I stagger off the ice, my chest feels like it’s caving in.
When my phone buzzes with a text from Chloe asking if I’m okay I feel conflicted and broken.
Because despite everything, despite the storm brewing around us, she’s still mine.
That night, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, Coach’s words replaying on a loop. Her old man is the reason you’ve even got a team to play for.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve just torched everything I’ve worked for.