Chapter Six
LUKE
Sunlight streamed into our kitchen, taunting me—making everything look warmer than it felt.
I slid onto a stool at the sleek marble island, ignoring the green smoothie Mom had left behind before dashing off to tennis or brunch or whatever social camouflage she wore that day. Coffee mattered more this morning.
Drew leaned against the counter across from me in a crisp button-down, sipping the coffee I wanted. Claire, his fiancée, flipped through her tablet, picking at fruit with delicate precision. They looked… staged.
“Morning, bro.” He looked up from his phone with a grin that hovered somewhere between smug and too rehearsed. “You look like hell.”
I grunted. “Didn’t sleep.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got bags under your eyes darker than your jersey. Are you skipping lifting or just prioritizing brooding?”
Claire glanced up, her voice soft but too curious to be casual. “He’s probably just adjusting to school again.” Her brown eyes flicked to mine. “I saw Mila Callahan’s mom in town. Guess Mila is back. That must’ve been… a surprise?”
I forced the tension from my jaw. “Didn’t expect her back.”
Claire’s fork hovered mid-air. “I always liked her. Not sure why she left so suddenly, but she seemed… interesting.”
“She was,” Drew said, sharper than expected. “But nobody disappears without reason. Especially not her mom. They didn’t just leave—they vanished. That kind of thing leaves a mark.”
I shrugged. “It’s high school. Not a soap opera.”
His tone darkened. “Just don’t let her throw you off. You’ve got college coming up. Dad’s under enough pressure already with Dunn Industries snapping at our heels, and we could use you stepping up at the company—sooner rather than later.”
I stood, the chair scraping back across the hardwood. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.”
Claire’s gaze lingered on me, too quiet now.
Drew didn’t push further. But the mention of pressure…
it crawled under my skin. Something had been simmering all summer.
Reports, late-night calls, meetings that turned into arguments.
The calm before the storm wasn’t calm at all. It was waiting to detonate.
I stormed out of the house, the door slamming behind me. Backpack slung over my shoulder, I launched into the SUV, peeled down the driveway, and flew toward school, tires screeching into the front row of the student lot. My usual spot was still empty.
Chase, Jax, and Theo waited by their vehicles. They saw my expression and didn’t bother with jokes.
“Some bullshit rumor’s flying around,” Theo said as I passed.
“Not now,” I snapped.
But even as I shoved the door open and walked into school, I could feel it—the shift. The glances. The cut-off conversations. My name surfacing in tones too low to catch.
The King name usually carried reverence, not questions. I shouldn’t care. It wasn’t what mattered to me, or the future I wanted, but fuck it. I did care. And it echoed Drew’s shitty mood.
Two girls near a locker—one of them I recognized from honors physics—were whispering.
“My dad works at Dunn. Said the VP at King Enterprises, Langley or some name like that, was about to go public with something. Then he just… vanished. I guess he got fired and was forced out of town.”
“So what? That’s old news. And besides, it’s King. They still own everything.”
“Not if layoffs happen. Logan’s dad—he’s out. No warning.”
I stopped cold. They were facts. I knew because I’d heard similar when I shouldn’t have. These weren’t just hallway lies. That was blood in the water.
I ducked down a side hall to breathe, to think. The walls felt too close. My last name, usually my armor, now felt like a target painted on my back.
And then I saw her—Mila. By her locker. Talking low with two students I didn’t recognize. She leaned in. Her eyes lit with something too close to determination. I moved toward her before I even knew what I was doing. She looked up. Her expression didn’t change, didn’t soften.
“Something interesting?” I asked, voice edged in steel.
The other girls scattered as she crossed her arms. “You tell me.”
I stepped closer. “Rumors are swirling. You just got back, and suddenly shit’s starting up again. Kind of like when you left the last time too.”
Her chin lifted. “Funny—because from what I’m hearing, it’s your father who’s the common denominator.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw. She had no clue what she was stirring up.
But I did. Emergency board meetings. One of the exec’s car totaled in a back-road accident three towns over.
My dad’s phone lighting up, his face gray as concrete when he finally emerged from his office that night.
My mother disappearing for days at a time, always on the move but saying little.
I stepped into her space. “Stay out of it. Or you’ll find yourself in a situation you can’t walk away from.”
She didn’t move. Just stared back like I was some puzzle she’d already solved.
“I’m just following a thread,” she said.
“Walk away, Mila.”
Her slate-gray eyes with emerald flecks stayed locked on mine.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something shift inside me—an unease that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with what I couldn’t see coming. Because this wasn’t just about us. It was about something bigger.
A conversation from the night before echoed in my skull. I’d just gotten home from the arena. Gear slung over my shoulder. I was headed upstairs when I paused outside Dad’s office. The door wasn’t shut all the way. Mom’s voice—brittle, clipped—cut through the quiet.
“Lorne said it was handled. That nothing would trace back to us.”
A pause. Then Dad: “It better not. If that audit gets reopened—”
“It was a mistake,” Mom snapped. “You trusted him too much.”
“We didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. You just don’t like the ones that cost you.”
Silence hung heavy before Mom’s voice turned acerbic. “Adriana Callahan is back. Darren’s girl. Maybe this time something can be done about what she took.”
I stepped back, heart hammering. Darren Langley’s girl. Mila’s mom. And that meant Mila would also be in the crosshairs of whatever disaster was coming.
Her mom had worked for us. Or maybe with us. Hard to tell with people like my father. Whatever role she’d played, she’d left under a cloud. And suddenly, Mila wasn’t just a ghost from my past. She was a threat.
I snapped back to the present. Mila’s too-observant eyes glued to the emotions probably visible in mine.
Fuck. I needed to get the hell out of there.
She would be in all my classes starting today, but I needed to think, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that here.
So, I left—pushed open the school’s main door, walked outside, and got in my SUV.
I went to the one place that was mine—the arena, and I hit the ice.
I skated until my lungs burned and my body screamed for oxygen.
Until I couldn’t tell the difference between rage and panic.
Every slap of the puck into the net was a shout I didn’t let out.
Every rotation a countdown to detonation.
Mila didn’t know what she was stepping into. But I did. Her mom was already marked. And if she kept digging, she’d end up a casualty. Not because she was guilty. Because people in power didn’t like questions. And I couldn’t save her. Not if she didn’t want to be saved.
I finished up, stepped out of the rink and into the locker room. Practice wasn’t for a few hours. It was lunch, and I was debating whether to finish out the school day or just go home.
The echo of my footsteps was the only sound. I should’ve let it go with Mila earlier. Walked away. She was always so damn good at getting under my skin—knowing exactly which nerve to press like it was hers to own.
I pulled off my jersey, trying to let the burn in my lungs quiet the fire in my chest. But it didn’t work.
Not when the memory of her lingered—those captivating eyes, that unwavering stare, the defiance that used to come with a laugh and my mouth on hers in the backseat of my SUV.
Back when we still believed we could outrun everything that chased us.
And then she walked into the locker room.
I blinked, thinking I’d imagined her. But there she was—Mila. Just inside the door, a bold line of tension held in her frame like she dared me to tell her to leave.
“Locker rooms are off-limits.” I dragged the towel over my head. “Even for girls who think they’re invincible.”
She folded her arms. “They didn’t use to be. Not with us.”
I turned toward her, jaw tight even as a dozen images bombarded me of us together in this locker room. Her soft skin against mine. Her breathy moan haunting me until I wanted to throw something. “They are now. You keep throwing yourself into places you don’t belong.”
“Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Why now?” I asked finally, voice low. “Why come back?”
She hesitated. And that hesitation said more than any lie ever could. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit. You always had a choice. You just didn’t pick me.”
She flinched, the movement almost too small to catch. Her swallow was audible.
“You think I wanted to leave?” she whispered.
I stepped closer. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Because I couldn’t.”
I reached out. Not to touch her—just to be close enough to feel it. That thrum. That impossible tether between us. “I searched for you. For months.”
“I know.”
“Then why lie?”
She met my gaze, fire clashing with guilt. “Because it was the only way to protect us both.”
She was right. The only way to protect her could very well be to stay far away from her. And I would try, starting now.
So I brushed past her, left her behind, and shoved open the door to exit the locker room. Then I was outside, sweat cooling against my skin, when a black SUV rolled to a stop near the curb. Window down. Tinted glass. Too smooth to be a coincidence.
“Luke,” a familiar voice said.
Lorne.
I stared at the car for a second too long before climbing in.
The inside smelled like leather and control.
Lorne didn’t look up right away, just tapped something on a sleek tablet, casual as hell.
When he finally glanced over, his smile was polished steel.
Dark eyes holding promises no one wanted to know, his presence filled the car with power, despite the caramel-colored highlights and custom-tailored suit that pretended to civilize the brutal nature underneath.
“You’re making waves this season.”
We’d had one game. But I knew scouts were watching. What I didn’t know was why Lorne was.
“Coaches are noticing.”
I didn’t answer.
“But it’s not just performance anymore.” He leaned in, resting his elbow on the armrest. “Perception matters. And lately, the whispers… they’re loud. About your father, the business, and a woman who came back to town who never should have.”
I stiffened. Letting Lorne into your head in any capacity wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t even hint that Mila or her mom mattered. Not if I wanted to buy time to see if there was anything I could do. If I even wanted to, I still wasn’t sure. “Let them talk.”
Lorne’s smile thinned. “You sound like your dad used to. Before the pressure chipped away at his judgment.”
I looked at him fully. “Are you saying I’m making a mistake?
” This man was my father’s business partner and someone who was a part of my family since I could remember, but there was something dangerous about him we all took note of—even if he was supposedly on our side.
None of us wanted to imagine him on the other side.
“I’m saying strong men don’t let emotion cloud their control. Don’t let the past dictate their future.”
He was talking about Mila. Fuck. “I’m not my dad.”
“No.” He paused. “You’re still becoming someone.”
He handed me a folded piece of paper. I recognized the logo even before I unfolded it. One of our silent partners.
“Just keep your head clear. Eyes forward.”
When I stepped out of the car and opened the paper, my stomach dropped.
It wasn’t just a development property. It was the boardwalk art studio Dad had sworn we would protect.
But it was listed for sale. Lorne’s name was at the bottom.
And suddenly, everything I thought I knew was the first crack before the avalanche.