Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Breakaway - A lone attacker racing in on the goalie with no defenders.
Phoenix
Keegan was the first to speak, but I noted that neither of them seemed particularly surprised to see me. “Is Cole here?”
I shook my head, words stuck in my throat. There was something about the way Keegan looked at me, all nervous energy and too-bright eyes, that made it obvious this wasn’t a social call. “He just left.”
Ignatius Steel stepped forward, the air around him shifting like the temperature had dropped a few degrees. He didn’t look surprised, just…resigned. Maybe a little disappointed, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
“Is Cole all right?” Keegan asked, worried. “He was upset over the game. I wanted to check he wasn’t hurt.”
“His father was here.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it wobbled anyway. “He was…angry.”
Neither of them said anything, but I saw the way Keegan’s jaw clenched, like he’d just bit down on a tack.
I pressed on, because I didn’t know what else to do. “He said if Cole lost another game—or let the press see anything weird, some people would come down on him hard. Hard. Like, drop-him-in-a-hole hard.” I wasn’t going to give up what might be secrets even though I had a feeling they already knew.
Ignatius’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “He said that?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked in the middle, but I powered through. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. I get that I’m just the idiot in the spare room, but if there’s something wrong, maybe someone should go after him.”
Keegan shot Ignatius a look, but Ignatius just shook his head slowly. “It’s not our place to interfere. Not yet.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, heat flaring in my chest. “You’re all talking in circles. Cole’s dad is out there treating him like some sort of monster, and you’re acting like it’s just another Tuesday.”
Ignatius’s gaze landed on me, heavy as lead. “I can’t comment on a father-son relationship.”
“But it’s killing him!” My hands were fists at my sides, and I realized too late how desperate I sounded. “He thinks he’s broken. He thinks he’s going to ruin everything for everyone, and you’re just standing there like that isn’t the real reason you’re here.”
For a second, nobody spoke. Then Keegan stepped forward, his voice gentler. “We came to help.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” I demanded, voice raw. “Tell me what’s happening to him. Please.”
Keegan looked at Ignatius, waiting for permission. Ignatius shook his head, this time with actual regret. “If Cole wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself. That’s how it works.”
I laughed, sharp and ugly. “You really think he’s going to tell me anything? He can barely look at me when he’s hurting. He’d rather chew his own arm off than admit something’s wrong.”
Ignatius stared at me. “Why did he leave without you if you're clearly staying here?”
“Because I fucked up,” I whispered.
Ignatius watched me with those eyes that missed nothing, not even the way I twisted my hands together. “You care for him,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
I couldn’t look up. “He was the first person in years who made me feel like I wasn’t just a problem to be solved.”
Keegan’s voice was softer, almost shy. “He’s never brought anyone into the VIP box before.”
I shrugged, because what else was there? I was still the guy with five grand in his pocket and a hundred secrets. “I don’t know where he went. I was just going to try and look for him, but I don’t have a car.”
“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Ignatius’s words were careful. “If you could tell him we called?”
I gaped. They were just gonna leave? Fuck this shit. “His dad said something about bringing in an elder to ‘rebind’ him. Does that mean anything to you?”
The room went deathly silent. Ignatius looked at me like he could see right through me and his eyes burned for a second like silver, then he blinked and they were back to normal. “Come, then,” he said and turned to go. I didn’t need to be asked twice.
“You know what it means,” I said finally when we were all in what had to be a very expensive truck. Keegan drove.
Ignatius finally spoke, not unkind but absolute. “It’s not my place to explain Cole’s history. That’s for him to decide.”
“Fine.” I could barely keep my voice from cracking. “But whatever this is, whatever’s happening to him—it’s eating him alive. You all talk about him like he’s the only thing holding this team together, but off the ice he’s just… I don’t know. He’s a mess.”
Keegan smiled at that, and it was the first real one I’d seen from him. “So are the rest of us. Some of us just hide it better.”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “Yeah, well. He’s got a head start on hiding.”
Ignatius turned and met my gaze. “Why do you want to know?”
That was almost funny, if anything about this was funny. “Because for some reason, I can’t walk away. Even when I know I should. Even when I told myself I would.”
For a second, he just watched me. I wondered if he could see through to the core of me, to every ugly thing I’d ever done. But he only nodded, once, slowly. “That’s loyalty, Phoenix. Not failure.”
The word made my stomach twist. “I don’t think he’d call it that.”
Keegan actually rolled his eyes. “Because he’s as stubborn as the rest of us. And he thinks if he lets anyone in, it’ll all go sideways.”
Something told me they didn’t mean the team. “Are we going to the arena?”
Ignatius shook his head. “He won’t have gone there.”
“Then how will we find him?” This was ridiculous. I tried again, pushing because I had to. “You’re not going to tell me what’s going on with him?”
Ignatius’s voice was gentle, but final. “There aren’t many places we can look. How much of a head start did he have on you, and is he driving?”
“About twenty, thirty minutes. He took his keys.”
Ignatius nodded and tapped something on his phone. “Take 6th Avenue freeway,”
Keegan blinked. “East or West?”
“West,” Ignatius answered without hesitation. “He’s heading for altitude.” How did he know that? No one had said a single thing about where Cole might go.
Keegan merged onto 6th, the highway rising toward the darker outline of the foothills. The mountains rose ahead like a wall.
Ignatius tilted his head slightly, almost like he was…listening? But the windows were closed. The radio was off. The car was silent.
Then he said, “Stay right at the split. Toward the ridge.”
A prickle crawled over my skin. “How do you know?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Ignatius didn’t look back. “He’s upset,” was all he said like that was an explanation. “He’ll go somewhere he can breathe.”
That wasn’t an answer, not really, but something about the certainty in his voice made my stomach twist. I turned my forehead to the cold glass, watching the mountains draw closer, the city falling away.
As we started climbing the gentle slope into the foothills, something tugged at me.
Not fear. Not panic.
More like…pressure? Like the air thickened the farther we went, warming slightly despite the dropping temperature outside. My chest tightened as if the world was pulling me in a direction I couldn’t see.
Keegan glanced at me in the mirror. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I said tightly. “Just a weird feeling.” He nodded once, like he expected that.
We passed through Golden, the last pocket of civilization before the road narrowed and the mountains swallowed the world. Ignatius lifted a hand.
“Turn left,” he said. “Up toward Lookout Mountain Road.”
Keegan obeyed without question.
The truck began the switchbacks—those sharp, climbing curves carved into the rock face. The trees grew taller, the houses fewer. The night deeper.
Then Ignatius whispered, almost to himself, “Good. He’s still rising.”
Still rising? Keegan suddenly accelerated, trusting him without hesitation. My fingertips tingled. My heart skipped. Something inside me pulled tight like a thread winding itself.
I swallowed. “There’s…something up here.”
Keegan glanced at me through the rearview. “What do you mean?”
I had no idea. But the air felt warmer. The wind rushing past the car smelled like hot stone. Like the blast of heat from an oven when you open it.
I’d never smelled that in my life.
Yet something inside me whispered: Cole.
Ignatius didn’t turn, didn’t react, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
As we reached a darker section of road—no houses, no traffic, just forest and cliffs—Ignatius lifted a hand sharply. “Here,” he said. “Pull off. Take the service road.”
Keegan braked hard and looked out the windshield. “That road’s barely visible. It’s not on the GPS.”
I interrupted. “He’s close.” My heart lurched. Heat crawled up my neck, inexplicable and urgent. How did I know that?
“Phoenix,” Ignatius encouraged softly, “tell us which way.”
I froze. “I don’t… I don’t know.” But my chest did. My bones did. Instinct hummed under my skin like a fever.
I lifted a hand, slowly, embarrassed, pointing out the front windshield toward the black stretch of forest and rock.
“Up,” I whispered. “Higher. He’s higher.”
Ignatius merely nodded. “Good,” he said quietly. “Keep going.”
No one asked how I knew. No one questioned it, not even me.
And as the truck crawled onto the nearly invisible service road, the feeling only grew stronger. Cole was close. Close enough that my chest burned with it.
But I didn’t understand why I knew.
Not yet.
We turned the last corner and my pulse hammered.
Against the sun, I could see his silhouette, all sharp shoulders and the line of his jaw against the sky.
Cole sat cross-legged on a slab of rock, not even looking at the drop, just staring out into the sky like he was waiting for something to swallow him whole.
I didn’t wait for the others. I just scrambled from the truck and ran, feet skidding on the loose gravel, lungs burning. I couldn’t breathe, the cold air slicing through my ribs with every step, but I didn’t stop. If he jumped, if he even leaned forward—
“Cole!” My voice was thin, ragged. It sounded stupid, desperate. But I didn’t care.
He turned his head slowly, and for a second, his eyes glimmered red in the thin spill of starlight. Not green. Not even close to human. Just burning.
I froze. My legs wouldn’t work. I wanted to go to him, but the fear pinned me in place. Not fear for myself. For him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just sat there, hands limp on his knees, breathing so shallow I wasn’t sure he was even alive.
“Don’t,” I managed. The word was barely a whisper. “Please, Cole. Please don’t.”
He blinked slowly. “I wasn’t going to jump,” he said, but his voice was flat. Empty.
I clung to that, because as long as he was talking, he was here.
"I was hoping to fly."