Chapter 17 - Karter #2
“He wanted me to know Hastings might start asking questions. The AD wants a reason to tear up a scholarship, and Corby’s been running interference.
” Elliot checked down the hallway before leaning in.
“Hastings even cornered me earlier today. Gave me this massive speech about team culture and protecting the freshmen. Kept asking if certain guys were throwing their weight around or forcing the new guys to fall in line.”
The blood drained from my face. “He is asking about hazing.”
“He is actively hunting for a reason to pull a scholarship,” Elliot warned. “So if Zotov is leaning on you, you need to tell me before Hastings makes it a whole thing.”
I pressed my thumb hard into the side of my index finger, forcing my expression to stay completely neutral.
“Nobody is hazing me,” I told Elliot.
“Karter, if he is doing something...”
“He is not. Let it go.”
I turned and walked away from my brother before he could push the issue further. Not bothering to stick around for dessert, I grabbed my coat, stepped outside, and ordered a ride. The cab pulled up seven minutes later.
The lock clicked shut on my door at the Ice House. Matt was still out at the dinner, leaving our shared attic room empty.
I dropped my coat on the desk chair and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the blank drywall. It was just a few inches of cheap plaster and wood studs separating my side of the room from Aleksey’s, but it had felt like a concrete bunker for days now.
I gripped the edge of the bed, trying to steady the urge I suddenly had to do something with my hands. Every instinct told me to just turn off the desk lamp and go to sleep. Keeping the peace meant leaving things alone. Letting the situation run its course. Doing nothing was always the safest play.
But safe just felt numb. And I was absolutely done being numb.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
I typed out the message: We need to talk.
I hit send and dropped my phone onto my blanket.
The next two hours were brutal. I spent the first forty minutes staring at the wall in complete silence.
Then the front door downstairs shut. Familiar boots climbed the creaky wooden stairs.
A second later, the corner radiator kicked on with a loud, metallic clank, but it did not cover up the sharp squeak filtering through the thin wall.
Bedsprings. Aleksey was back.
Knowing he was awake on the exact opposite side of that wall made the wait infinitely worse. A dozen times, I almost stood up, walked out into the hall, and knocked on his door.
He was right there.
But starting a public confrontation in the middle of The Ice House would drag everyone into it, so I forced myself to sit tight and wait.
Around eleven, the doorknob rattled. I quickly slid down against my pillows, stretching my legs out to look casual right as Matt walked in from the donor event. He paused when he saw me in the dark, his hand lingering on the light switch.
“Bro, you bailed early,” Matt said, loosening his tie. “Is everything good? I grabbed some extra sliders from the catering tray if you want them.”
“Nah, I’m good. I just had a headache,” I lied, keeping my voice level. “Thanks, though.”
Matt gave a short nod and did not push it. He quietly got ready for bed, switched off his lamp, and crashed out, oblivious to the anxiety suffocating my side of the room. Meanwhile, I lay flat on my back in the dark, staring up at the ceiling.
At eleven forty, my phone screen finally lit up the shadows on the bed.
Aleksey: Not safe.
I stared at the two words. Aleksey had been treating me like a ghost all week, so the fact that he broke his own strict rule to reply to me meant his discipline was cracking.
He was struggling just as much as I was.
I picked up my phone and typed back.
Me: I don’t care.
The screen glowed against my face. Three dots appeared. They vanished. Then they appeared again.
Aleksey: Go to sleep, Karter.
I grimaced, but I was not going to let him shut me out again.
Me: Where are we meeting?
The three dots bounced on the screen for a long minute.
Aleksey: Equipment room. 1 AM. Don’t let anyone see you.
With a grin, I locked the screen and slid the phone under my pillow.
I waited on my bed until Matt’s breathing finally evened out. The second he was fully asleep, I grabbed my coat, shoved my phone into my pocket, and slipped out the door.
The old stairs of The Ice House creaked under my feet, but I made it outside without waking anyone up.
The walk across campus passed in a blur of streetlights as I kept my head down, my boots crunching over salted pavement until the massive shape of the arena loomed ahead.
Swiping my athlete keycard at the side entrance, I waited for the scanner to flash green, then pulled the door open and stepped inside.
The quiet inside the rink was different from the dorms. It felt heavy, filled with the low, constant hum of the ice plant vibrating under the floorboards. I walked down the dark hall and pushed open the door to the equipment room.
Aleksey was already there.
He leaned against a tall rack of spare hockey sticks, half swallowed by the dark. The sharp, rapid pops of him cracking his knuckles over and over, bounced off the walls.
“This is a massive mistake.”
“Then why did you come?”
“Because you wouldn’t drop it.” He let his hands fall to his sides; the nervous ticking sound finally stopped. “Hastings is watching everything, Karter.”
“Elliot cornered me at the dinner,” I told him. “He knows Hastings is hunting for hazing evidence to tear up your scholarship. Corby’s been fighting him on it.”
Aleksey stopped moving. “Then you know exactly why I walked away.”
“You still shut me out.” My voice hardened. “We figure Trenton sent those photos, right? Then we can work to figure this out together. Instead, I’ve been sitting in my room for days thinking I was just some mistake you regret.”
“Figure it out how, Karter?” Aleksey stepped forward, his tone clipped and defensive. “By handing Hastings the exact proof he needs for a hazing charge? If they catch us in the same room now, I do not just lose my Chicago draft spot. I lose everything.”
My displaced anger from the dining hall flared up again. “But you looked fine playing the part tonight. You were sitting with Perez, laughing as if nothing was wrong. As if you didn’t even care about m—”
“It’s called keeping my head down.” Aleksey cut in, closing the distance between us to stop right in front of me.
The harshness drained out of him, leaving him looking exhausted.
“If I look panicked, Hastings gets what he wants. But I couldn’t even look at your side of the rink today without wanting to kiss you. ”
I went still. “Then kiss me,” I demanded.
At that, he broke.
Grabbing the front of my jacket, he shoved me backward, slamming me against the cold wall next to the door. He remained rigid for a few seconds, looming over me in the dark.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn’t an attack. He simply pinned me to the wall with his entire body, as though he was desperate to close every inch of distance between us.
I kissed him back as his fingers dug into my jaw, pulling me closer. His breath hitched, coming out in a rough, uneven sound against my mouth.
And then Aleksey ripped himself away. He stepped back, looking rattled.
“Damn it, you aren’t getting it,” Aleksey said, his voice harsh. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. “If I stay in this room, I’m never going to be able to stop wanting you.”
“Aleks, wait,” I said.
“No,” he backed toward the exit.
Before I could say anything else, he grabbed the door handle, shoved the steel open, and walked out.
The door clicked shut a beat later, leaving me alone in the almost pitch-black. I rubbed my jaw, feeling the dull ache where his fingers had dug in.
The numbing fog from the last few days was completely gone. I always played a safe game. I stayed out of the corners, kept my head down, and let other people take the penalties.
But standing in the quiet equipment room, that ingrained instinct finally snapped. I let out a slow, steady breath. I was done backing away.