Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Tate
Landon fucking Kane.
After my injury, I was certain I would never cross paths with him again.
How wrong was I? What makes it worse is his twin brother, Levi.
He looks exactly like Landon, so my hatred runs deep for both of them based on that fact alone.
They were both traded to the Cyclones, of course, since they’ve always been a package deal.
Apart, they’re talented players, but together . . . they’re unstoppable.
When my brother told me they’d been traded to our team, a range of emotions tore through me. It was supposed to be me in Landon’s position. I had it locked down—sealed and signed. Yet one injury in college saw my entire career spiral down the toilet.
Which meant I had to pivot. And as my father would say: “Those who can’t, coach”—or something equally ridiculous.
My grandfather owns the team, and our entire family is intertwined with the Cyclones and the farm team, the Hounds.
I’ve been content as the assistant coach alongside my father at the Hounds, working in the shadows and building a new life.
But when my grandfather stepped down as head coach for the Cyclones, my older brother, Thomas, took over his position.
Now here I am, on my first official day as assistant coach for the Cyclones, about to come face to face with Landon Kane, my fiercest rival.
The man who effortlessly smashed every single dream I ever held.
The man who now has my position on the team.
“Remember, tater tot, you earned this,” my brother Thomas says, placing a hand on my shoulder as we walk toward the arena.
I hate how he still calls me tater tot—just because he’s thirteen years older than me. The nickname feels like a constant reminder that he still sees me as the younger brother, not a professional.
I don’t respond, instead giving him a tight nod. The walk to the building feels like it takes forever, and my jaw is clenched so hard that tension radiates into my temples. When we get there, the arena is already alive with people.
This is supposed to be my moment. My chance to prove that even without playing, I can lead.
As we turn the corner into the main rink, Landon Kane is already on the ice, running drills with Levi.
His movements are fluid, practiced, and fucking perfect.
He’s bigger than I remember, not only tall but broad through the shoulders.
His frame has been strengthened by years of professional hockey and training.
He moves with that same arrogant confidence, the ice bending to his will.
My chest tightens and my fingers curl into fists.
“There he is,” Thomas says, his voice upbeat, which makes me want to punch my own brother. “Let’s go meet with the team, introduce you formally, and get everyone on the same page about how we’re going to work together this season.”
I want to say no, to turn around and walk back out. I want to do anything except stand in front of the man who has everything I ever wanted, and makes my blood boil and my skin crawl with something I absolutely refuse to identify.
But I don’t. Instead, I follow Thomas down to the boards.
Landon notices us immediately. Or maybe he recognizes me, specifically. His eyes find mine across the ice, and for a moment, everything stops. There’s recognition, and his lips curve into a slow smile. Something in my stomach does a very traitorous flip.
“Tate,” Landon calls out, his voice carrying across the ice. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Coaching the big leagues now, huh?”
“Kane,” I say, my voice professional. “Congratulations on the trade.”
He glides toward us, stopping just short of the boards, his stick resting across his shoulders.
Up close, he’s even more infuriatingly handsome than he was from a distance.
His hair is dark, damp from sweat, and his eyes are a particular shade of blue that is so light and striking against the darkness of his eyelashes.
The fact that I haven’t forgotten them is a problem I’m going to deal with later, much later. Possibly never.
“Thanks, Coach,” Landon says, and I don’t miss his tone. “It’s good to see you again.”
His eyes are pinned on mine, and I get the distinct feeling he’s not only talking about us being rivals.
There’s history between us, yes, but there’s something else too.
Something that makes my collar feel too tight.
A spark I ignored through college, putting it down to the heightened adrenaline during the games as we faced off against each other.
“You too,” I say, turning to my brother. “We should brief the team on our expectations for this season.”
Thomas nods, launching into his opening remarks about the season ahead.
I can feel Landon’s attention still on me, and I absolutely will not acknowledge it. This is going to be a very long season.
The rest of training passes in a blur. I move between the ice and the boards, calling out drills, correcting form, and adjusting plays. It’s easier to focus on the game when I’m not looking directly at Landon.
“That’s it,” I call out. “Hit the locker room and get out of here. Good work today, everyone. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”
There’s a collective “Yes, Coach” from the team as they head toward the boards, their skates clicking as they make their way off the ice. Landon and Levi are among the first, and I deliberately avoid watching them leave.
Thomas claps me on the shoulder as he passes. “Good first day, tater tot. I’m heading home. Don’t stay too late.”
I nod, then wait until most of the team has filtered out before I make my way to my office.
It’s a small space, nothing fancy—just a desk, a chair, and a window that overlooks the practice rink.
I settle in and pull up some files on the computer, trying to focus on plays and strategies instead of the fact that I will be close to Landon this season.
I’m in the middle of reviewing footage when there’s a knock on my door. My entire body goes rigid. I don’t need him to speak to know who it is. “Come in.”
Landon pushes the door open, freshly showered and changed into a fitted gray T-shirt that clings to his broad chest in a way that’s absolutely infuriating. And if his grin is anything to go by, he’s well aware of my discomfort.
“Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “Thought I’d stop by before I head out. See how your first day went.”
I force myself to look back at the computer screen. “It went fine. The players seem okay with me being out there.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Landon says, definite amusement in his voice now.
In my periphery, he steps further into the office, closing the door behind him.
“You were pretty intense out there. Full of authority and calling the shots. It’s”—he pauses, and I can hear the smile in his voice—“really hot, actually.”
I cross my arms over my chest and stare daggers at the wall across from my desk. “That’s enough, Kane.”
“What?” he says, trying to act innocent. “I’m simply saying you’ve got a natural talent for leadership. Who knew?”
“The past is the past,” I say sharply, still not looking at him. “We’re professionals now, and we work together. That’s it.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I think maybe he’ll take the hint and leave. Then I hear him move closer, and my heart rate spikes.
“See, here’s the thing, though,” Landon drawls. “I’m not sure the past is actually in the past. Not when you keep looking at me like you want to punch me and kiss me at the same time.”
My head snaps up, and I meet his eyes. He’s standing right next to my desk now with his smirk firmly in place, and there’s something in his expression that suggests he absolutely knows what he’s doing.
“That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You remember college, Tate?” he asks, his voice dropping lower.
“Of course you remember how it was. The way you’d skate past me and your cheeks would heat beneath your helmet.
” He leans against the desk, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I remember that intense feeling of being watched every time we were on the ice together.”
My mouth goes dry. This is dangerous, a line we shouldn’t cross, especially not now that I am the assistant coach.
“That was a long time ago,” I murmur.
“Maybe,” Landon agrees. “But I’m not the same person I was back then, and something tells me neither are you.” He pushes off the desk, and as he strides toward the door, he glances back at me. “Think about it, Coach.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in my office with my heart pounding in my chest and absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to get through this season without losing my mind.