Chapter 17 #2
“I think you’re capable of losing perspective.” His voice is cool, steady. “Your reputation isn’t exactly squeaky clean, Phoenix. Aggressive captain. Hot head. Now a romance with your linemate? The optics are ugly.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Leander earned his spot. He’s the hardest worker on this team, and you know it.”
His eyes soften slightly, but he doesn’t budge. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?”
The words cut sharper than a blade. I want to argue, to throw his doubt back in his face—but the truth is, he has a point. My whole damn career has been one long fight to prove I’m not the disaster people say I am. Now Leander’s tied up in it too.
“Dismissed,” he says finally, already turning back to his computer.
I storm out, chest tight, and find Leander waiting by the doors, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. He looks at me like he’s bracing for impact.
“What did he say?” he asks.
I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “They have to investigate. Make sure I haven’t been giving you special treatment.”
Leander blinks, then scoffs. “That’s bullshit. Everyone knows I’ve worked my ass off—”
“Doesn’t matter what everyone knows!” My voice snaps louder than I mean. “It’s about appearances. About whether people think I’ve been bending the rules for you.”
He stares at me, hurt flashing across his face. “So what, we’re supposed to pretend we’re nothing? You’d rather let them tear us apart than admit we’re real?”
I step closer, low and harsh. “You blindsided me out there, Lee. “
His eyes widen. “I was defending you!”
“Defending me?” I laugh, bitter, sharp. “You practically painted a target on both our backs. You think shouting about us in front of the team makes anything easier? Now Coach is breathing down my neck, the league will be sniffing around, and all anyone will see is the hothead captain sleeping with his linemate.”
Leander’s jaw tightens. “You make it sound like I’m a mistake.”
The words hit me square in the chest, harder than any check I’ve taken on the ice. My throat locks. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see the pressure crushing me from every side.
“No, never.” I grab his shoulder to make him look at me. “I’m trying to protect you,” I grind out, voice low, almost desperate. “Protect us. But the way you went about it—it trapped me, Lee. Like you decided for both of us.”
Leander’s expression wavers, somewhere between defiance and heartbreak. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but his voice comes out softer. “I just wanted them to see you’re not alone. That you’ve got someone in your corner. I didn’t think it would—”
“Yeah, well it did.” The words taste like ash, but they come out anyway.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and jagged. He looks away first, blinking hard like he’s holding back something he won’t say.
I drag a hand over my face, chest burning, and turn down the hall before I say something worse.
The parking lot is empty, but the snow crunches under our boots like a ticking clock counting down to disaster. The lights from the rink cast long, jagged shadows across the asphalt, and the cold bites through my coat, but I barely notice.
Leander stands a few feet from me, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders squared.
His jaw is tight, lips pressed together like he’s trying to hold in the words before they burst. I can see the heat behind his eyes, the fury simmering under that controlled exterior.
It’s the look that used to terrify me, now it makes my chest thrum in ways I can’t stop analyzing.
“Say it, Nix. I would if I were you.” Leander kicks at a block of snow.
No, I need to keep my emotions in check. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Don’t act like you’re the one with reason now. Let me have it.”
“I can’t believe you just… let it happen,” I say finally, voice low, clipped with the residue of the day’s tension. “The fight with Eric. You didn’t think, Lee. You just jumped in.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “And I’m supposed to just let him talk about you like you’re… like you’re some joke? You think I’m going to sit there and listen while he insults you?”
I clench my fists. “I can handle my fights. That’s my job. That’s my responsibility. You don’t get to pick up my battles for me.”
Leander’s laugh is sharp, humorless. “Funny. You used to be the one fighting my battles, and now I can’t fight yours.”
The words hit me like a slap. He’s right.
God, he’s right. I should be the one exploding, losing it, making a scene.
Not him. Not my rookie. And yet… there’s a flicker of something else in me, buried under the anger.
Pride, maybe. Protective instinct. The knowledge that he’d risk everything—his reputation, the team’s respect—just to defend me.
“You don’t understand,” I say, voice tighter now, teeth gritted. “That wasn’t just some guy calling me out. He was talking about you. About us. About how the team thinks I’m favoring you.”
“I don’t care what they think!” Leander snaps. “Do you? Do you not want to be seen with me?”
I stare at him, heart hammering in my chest. Because I can’t believe he’s asking me this. That he thinks I wouldn’t carve his name into my chest so that he knows I’m his.
“You need to calm down,” I manage finally, voice low, tense. “We can’t just… lose it here. Not like this. Not in front of everyone who’s going to see us.”
He steps closer, the snow crunching beneath him, closing the gap. “You’re telling me to calm down?”
I take a step back, trying to put space between us, but my body refuses to comply. It’s like the air itself is magnetized, pulling me closer. “Lee—”
“No!” he yells, cutting me off. “I’m not apologizing for protecting you. I’m not apologizing for standing up for you. And I’m definitely not apologizing for loving you.”
Something in my chest tightens so hard I can barely breathe.
Love. It still catches me off guard. And I want to roar, to punch the snow into pieces, to wrap him in my arms and never let go.
But I don’t. I stay rigid, trying to keep the storm inside me contained, because there’s still this gnawing, bitter knot of frustration at how reckless this all is.
“Leander, you’re not listening,” I growl, my voice rough and low. “I never want you to apologize for protecting me or loving me. I just wish you had looped me in before deciding to out us in front of our entire team. Our careers are on the line here!”
He’s inches from me now. His nostrils flare with anger and passion, eyes glittering like ice.
“Do you know how it feels to watch someone treat you like shit while you sit there thinking you have to be the perfect… perfect captain? To feel powerless when people are twisting your life and mine into some damn spectacle?”
My stomach knots. He’s right. He’s always right. Always the fire to my ice, the chaos I never expected to crave. I can feel my composure slipping—not from anger, not from frustration—but from desire, need, and the sheer intensity of him standing there, demanding me to see him.
I exhale sharply, trying to ground myself. “I just… I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want to do something stupid and reckless.”
Leander’s hand brushes against mine, light as a whisper, and it’s enough to make my entire body shiver. “Stupid? You’re the one who’s been teaching me how to defend myself. And now you’re telling me I’m the reckless one?”
The irony isn’t lost on me. I should feel humiliated, but instead I feel… proud. He’s mine. And he’s finally realizing how much he can protect me.
We stand there in the falling snow, silence stretching between us, tense and fragile. Every exhale clouds in the cold, every heartbeat drums like a warning. And then he does it.
He reaches up, fingers curling around my coat zipper, pulling me closer until our chests press together. “I love you, Phoenix,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “I love you, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can look at Eric and know exactly how I feel.”
My chest tightens. My heart hammers. I’ve never heard him say it like that, never had anyone claim me with such fire. And yet, the part of me that’s always been the protector—the one who fights, who pushes, who stakes claims—wants to roar in triumph.
“I love you too,” I whisper, voice raw, breath catching.
His lips press to mine, hesitant at first, then urgent, demanding. The snow swirls around us, cold and biting, but we don’t notice. Our bodies are pressed together, heat radiating in defiance of the ice around us. His hands grip my coat like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
“I’m sorry I lost my head,” he murmurs, low, breathless.
“It’s alright,” I whisper back, tightening my hold. “I would have done it sooner or later.”
The tension melts, replaced by a heat that burns through my veins.
The anger, the fear, the frustration—they all dissolve into this magnetic pull between us.
I can feel him, pressed close, the press of his chest against mine, and it’s like the world has shrunk to just this moment, this heartbeat, this claim.
I can feel the fire in me, the fire that only he can ignite. And even though the snow keeps falling, the world feels warm, alive, charged with the promise of us against everything.
And in that moment, I know we’re unstoppable.