19. Ethan
19
ETHAN
Something walks through the door that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Holly’s eyes go wide, her entire body stiffens, and the fingers, which were subtly brushing against mine a moment ago, retract like she’s touched a hot stove.
The tension in the air thickens like the worst kind of pre-game jitters—whipping me around to see what kind of mess we’re in.
The Jake Roland kind .
Nothing says this day’s about to go down the drain quite like the arrival of a grinning ex who looks like he just walked off the set of a cheesy holiday rom-com.
He struts into the room, all smug confidence, his teeth practically sparkling under the locker room’s overhead lights. The guy oozes arrogance enough for a weasel that’s just found its way into a chicken coop. His eyes land on Holly, and the way they light up—yeah, it takes every bit of self-control to keep from walking over there and knocking that smirk right off his face.
Fists clench at my sides as a slow burn of anger crawls up my spine. Jake Roland isn't just a regular, run-of-the-mill celebrity jerk. Or any other random girlfriend’s ex. I’m man enough to handle those. But the guy who thought ruining her career would be a great parting gift after their break-up? And now he dares to grin at her like they’re old pals?
Wish we were on the ice rink right now—one on one. But this isn’t the ice rink. And he isn’t just some annoying defenseman standing that I can barge my shoulder into and knock out cold.
A decent punch would feel satisfying ... but very scandalous.
No.
Holly shifts on her feet, subtle, but enough for me to notice the discomfort creeping into her posture. Her fingers find and clutch a clipboard just a little bit tighter than necessary, her shoulders stiffen, and that’s all I need to see. The decision’s made before it even clicks in my brain.
My steps are quick and purposeful as I close the distance between us, the space between me and Jake shrinking with each second. He spots me; his grin stretches wider, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, just for a second. He knows.
“Ethan Carter,” Jake’s voice slides out, casual, like we’re best buds. “Good to see you.”
Can’t help the sarcasm dripping from my tone. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual, Roland.”
“We’ve met before, right?” Jake flashes a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re here for the wrapping event, I assume?” Sarcasm drips from my tone, thick as syrup, and Ryan, who’s halfway through wrapping a giant stuffed penguin, shoots me a side-eye.
Jake’s smile falters, but he keeps his cool. “I wanted to help out, lend a hand, you know? The fans love this stuff.”
I’m about to tell him where he can shove that “helping hand” when Ryan’s cough slices through the tense air. A quick look around confirms the locker room has quieted around us, most of the guys glancing over from the corners of their eyes, sensing something brewing. I can feel the weight of their stares, one look at Holly, who’s still wide-eyed, and Jake catches my line of sight.
He chuckles, unbothered. “Are hockey players always so serious? Relax, man. We’re all friends here.” He offers a hand, and I stare at it like it’s a venomous snake. “Big fan of your work, man.”
“Yeah? Must’ve missed the memo,” I grumble, not bothering to take the offered hand. Instead, I cross my arms, muscles straining against my jersey, and lean in just enough to tower over Jake, who’s got a good few inches on me. But not today. Today, I’m 6’4" of barely controlled aggression.
Jake’s tight smile slips, eyes narrowing just slightly. “There’s no need for the animosity, huh?” he leans closer to whisper for only my ears. “I remember you stepping up that night to claim Holly as your girlfriend. Didn’t know she was that close to the Blizzards top star.”
“Now you do.” The words are cold, clipped, but it’s enough to make Jake’s anger flash in his eyes for a second. He opens his mouth to respond, but before things can get extra heated, a familiar voice cuts through.
“Carter! Glad you’re showing up for these things.”
Jonathan Reid. Of course. The team’s director doesn’t miss a beat, stepping in with that no-nonsense, keep-it-together authority he’s mastered over the years. He walks over, placing a hand on my shoulder, and gently pulls me aside.
“Ethan, a word?” It’s not a question.
Biting back the urge to snap, I nod and follow Reid out of earshot of the rest of the team. The tension in my muscles still hasn’t eased, but I force myself to take a breath. Jake isn’t worth a fight—not here, not now.
Reid doesn’t waste time. “What’s going on?”
The look he gives me is part frustration, part curiosity. He knows there’s more to this than just a simple grudge. I glance back at the locker room, catching Holly’s eye as she quickly looks away.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “Just don’t like him.”
Reid’s brow furrows, but there’s a flicker of understanding there. He’s been around long enough to know that when Ethan Carter “doesn’t like” someone, it’s not just a passing thing.
“Look,” Reid sighs, lowering his voice, “you’ve been doing great lately. The team’s happy with your progress. Just ... be careful. People might start reading into your actions.”
There’s a warning in his tone, one I’ve heard before. This isn’t just about Jake; it’s about how I’m being seen. There’s an image to maintain, something I’ve never been particularly good at caring about. But with Holly in the mix now, everything feels different.
I nod, ready to brush this off and move on, but Reid’s voice stops me. “One more thing, Ethan.”
A pause. He glances at his clipboard, then back at me. “The club’s planning some ‘homecoming’ content, focusing on you for the game against Duluth. Your hometown. We’re hoping you’ll be on board.”
The mention of Duluth sends a cold wave through me, but I keep my face neutral. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Reid eyes me for a moment, probably sensing the shift in my mood, but he doesn’t push. He just nods and steps aside, signaling that the conversation’s over. The second he’s gone, I make a beeline for Holly.
She’s standing near the corner of the room, alone now, the clipboard in her hands held like a shield. Jake Roland’s nowhere to be found. Holly’s eyes meet mine, and for a second, I see the flicker of something—worry? Guilt? Whatever it is, it gnaws at me.
“Holly,” I murmur, stepping closer. “You okay?”
She smiles, but it’s forced. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Jake didn’t?—”
“No, it’s fine,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “But we shouldn’t be seen together like this. It’ll ... complicate things.”
She glances around, clearly on edge, and I hate seeing her like this, nervous, looking over her shoulder because of him .
“Let me get things done and we’ll talk at home,” she adds quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I want to say something, anything, but she’s already stepping back, the space between us growing. “Holly?—”
“I’m fine, Ethan,” she insists, her eyes softening for just a moment. “I’ll be fine.”
I hate the distance between us, want to pull her close, kiss her in front of everyone just to claim her as mine. But instead, I give a reluctant nod. “I’ll see you at home.”
She flashes me a small smile before slipping out, leaving me standing there, feeling every bit of the frustration that’s been simmering all day.
By the time I return to the locker room, Ryan’s already on me like a hawk. “Something going on?” The captain’s teasing, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.
I wave him off, grabbing another box of fan gifts. “Nothing.”
“That sounds fake.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You gonna get back to doing some good for the community or stand there yapping all day?”
Ryan leans against one of the benches, grinning like an idiot. “We’re wrapping gifts, not solving world hunger.”
“Let’s just get back to work.”
Ryan snickers. “Right. You’ve been looking awfully enthusiastic about wrapping gifts today. Who you trying to impress?”
I roll my eyes, keeping my head down. “Shut up, Connors.”
Ryan laughs, nudging me with his elbow. “Yeah, yeah. You’re all tough guy on the outside, but I know what’s going on. Someone’s got you whipped.”
I cut the wrapping paper with a little more force than necessary. “Get back to work.”
But there’s a grin tugging at my lips despite myself, and Ryan just chuckles, satisfied.
But the rest of the gift-wrapping session blurs into the background, my mind still spinning with thoughts of Holly and, unfortunately, Jake. One more jab from that guy, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.
Duluth Clippers. The name above the stadium alone makes my skin crawl. The huge building looms above as we pull up, and I can already feel the tension settling in my chest, the ghosts of the past lingering in the cold Minnesota air.
The bus ride felt longer than usual, even with Ryan and Liam trying to keep things light. It’s a strange feeling, heading back to a place that should feel familiar but only stirs up bad memories. My hometown just doesn’t feel like home.
Ryan, ever observant, nudges me. “You good?”
I nod, but my grip on the strap of my bag says otherwise.
“You sure?” Liam adds, leaning in. “We’ve got your back, man. This place ... it’s just another rink.”
Yeah. Just another rink. Except it’s not. Not for me.
The locker room is filled with the usual pre-game banter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, like everyone’s aware of what this game means—for me, at least. Duluth’s always been a tough place for me to play. Too many memories, too many unresolved feelings. But tonight, something’s different. Holly’s here. She’s in the stands, watching, and somehow that thought alone makes the weight on my chest a little lighter.
The game starts off brutal. Duluth’s players are aggressive, and the atmosphere in the rink is tense, with every hit feeling like a personal attack. The first two periods are a blur of hard checks, fast passes, and near misses. We’re tied going into the third, and that’s when Coach sends me in.
The aggression bubbles to the surface as soon as my skates hit the ice. Every movement is sharper, faster. There’s no room for hesitation. Duluth’s defense is tight, but we’re tighter. Passes fly between sticks like bullets, and the puck dances across the ice, just out of reach.
One minute left in the period, and the puck lands on my stick. Everything slows down, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. The goal is there—waiting.
A slapshot.
The puck sails through the air, and the net ripples.
The buzzer sounds.
We win. 3-2. Great. Love leaving this place as soon as possible, and even the win doesn’t matter as much as the fact that I’m already thinking about getting back to Chicago. Back to Holly.
The media duties after the game are just the usual noise—cameras flashing, microphones shoved in my face, questions blurring together. But I go through the motions, answering with practiced ease, all while focusing on one thing: getting out of here and into Holly’s arms as soon as we’re back in Chicago.
But just as I’m about to wrap things up and head back to the locker room, a staff member approaches me with a message that makes my stomach twist.
“You’ve got a visitor.”
My heart leaps for a second, thinking it’s Holly. But when I step out into the hallway, it’s not her.
It’s Uncle Frank. And Jake. The other Jake that’s my cousin . Of course, there’s no way I escape a showdown in the town where they live.
“Ethan, my boy!” Uncle Frank’s voice is all false warmth, arms spread wide like we’re at some kind of family reunion. “What a game, huh?”
“What are you doing here?”
Jake steps up next to him, hands stuffed in his pockets, grinning like the snake he is. He reminds me too much of the other Jake—Holly’s ex. And the hatred for both of them simmers under my skin.
“Look at you, huh? Big-shot hockey player in the family.”
Frank chuckles, like we’re sharing some inside joke. “Now, is that any way to greet family? We’re here to cheer you on, of course.”
“Right.” My voice is flat, my patience hanging by a thread. “Spit it out. What do you want?” The words come out harsher than I intended, but I don’t care. This isn’t a social visit.
Uncle Frank’s smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers. “So, you don’t believe we’re just here to support you. Family supports each other, you know?”
“Right. Family.” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. “Thank you for the support. Can you leave now?”
Frank clears his throat, the faux cheer fading. “Look, Ethan. We’ve been thinking about, you know, the situation. We’re all family here, right? And family should help each other out.”
Ah. There it is. The real reason they’re here. It’s always about money. Always.
“I’m not giving you anything,” I say flatly, arms crossed over my chest.
Jake steps forward, his grin widening. “Come on, Ethan. We’re not asking for much. Just a little something to help us out. You’ve got plenty, right? Why not share the wealth?”
The anger flares, but I keep it in check. Barely.
“I’m done with your games,” I say, voice cold. “I’ll pay you off with the usual amount, but that’s it. I don’t want to hear from you again.”
Uncle Frank’s smile freezes, and there’s a moment of tension, but he quickly recovers, nodding. “Sure, sure. We’ll take care of it. No more trouble.”
But there’s a look in Jake’s eyes, something smug and calculating, and I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
As they walk away, the tension in my chest finally releases, and all I can think about is Holly. She’s the only thing that makes any of this mess bearable. And right now, I need to get back to her.