43. Steele
STEELE
W ith my elbows braced on my knees and eyes locked on the stretch of fresh ice in front of me, I sit alone in the empty arena. The air inside the rink is cool, crisp, and silent. It feels like the calm before the storm.
This place has always been my sanctuary.
Even before I turned pro, the rink was where everything made sense. No noise, no headlines, no bullshit. Just the scrape of skates, the sharp cut of blades, and the rhythm of the game.
Today, it feels different.
Heavier.
I drag a hand down my face just as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Bridger’s name lights up the screen.
Although, if you want to get technical, “fuckface” is the name that flashes on the device.
I swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I say.
His voice crackles through the line. “You at the arena?”
“Yup. Practice in forty.”
There’s a slight delay before he asks, “You doing okay? ”
I scrub a hand through my hair. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I saw the story,” Bridger says tightly. “The photo. No one who knows you believes any of that garbage. It’s nothing more than clickbait.”
“Some people do,” I murmur. “But they’re not the ones who matter.”
“It still pisses me off,” he mutters. “You’ve always kept your head down and your nose clean. And now they’re acting like you’re some violent asshole? It’s total bullshit.”
There’s a beat of silence between us before he asks, gentler this time, “How’s Lilah?”
I exhale. “About as well as you’d imagine.”
“That bad?”
“She’s holding it together,” I say. “But, yeah. It’s eating her up inside.”
“Give her our love,” Bridger says. “Seriously. Holland’s been fuming since she saw the post.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me do it. “Tell her we appreciate the support.”
Movement from my periphery catches my eye, and I glance up to see Rina entering the lower bowl of the arena. Her gaze sweeps the stands, and when it locks on me, she heads in my direction with a purposeful stride.
“I appreciate you checking in,” I tell my cousin, shifting on the chair. “But I gotta go.”
“Love you, man. Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
I hang up just as Rina climbs the last step and settles beside me in the front row. She doesn’t speak right away, just stares out over the empty ice.
“I thought you’d be in the locker room by now.”
“I needed a minute,” I say, leaning back in the seat beside her. “What’s up? ”
She hesitates, then sighs. “I heard about Peak Sportswear pulling out. I’m sorry.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Yeah. My agent called this morning with the news. They gave the usual ‘optics’ line—said I’m a PR liability and they’re reevaluating the direction of their brand.
Translation? A grainy photo and a bunch of internet warriors with too much time on their hands were enough to make them run scared. ”
She glances sideways at me. “Does Lilah know?”
I shake my head.
“Have you talked to her yet about making a statement?”
The anger that rises within me is sharp and immediate. “No.”
“Steele—”
“I’m not dragging her into this,” I snap before making a conscious effort to lower my voice. “She’s already in the middle of a firestorm. I’m not adding more fuel to it.”
Rina folds her arms as her jaw tightens. “She wouldn’t want you to lose sponsorships over this. You know that.”
“I don’t give a damn about the money. I’ve invested well over the years. I’m not hurting.”
She blinks, startled. “Then what?—”
“I care about her ,” I say flatly. “I care about protecting her and the way she looks at me. What I don’t give a shit about is how the media spins their narrative. She doesn’t owe anyone an explanation about what happens between us. Period. End of story.”
Rina exhales. “Okay. Then we deal with it the best we can. Quietly.”
“Yeah,” I say in agreement. “Quiet works.”
We sit for a moment, both of us staring at the smooth sheet of ice.
“She’s lucky to have someone so loyal,” Rina says eventually.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m the lucky one.”
And I’ll fight anyone who tries to destroy what we’ve built.