Chapter 19
Zayden
The door shuts behind me as I step out of my dad’s office. He wanted to see me after the video of me and Luna went viral. I expected the conversation, but I definitely wasn’t ready for the one that followed.
I walk past the athlete lounge, toward the locker room. No one says anything about the video, or maybe they do, and I just don’t hear them.
The locker room is loud as always when I get there. The usual laughter, some of the guys joking around. They look up when I walk in, but no one says anything; they know better. Jasper gives me a look from across the bench. I didn’t even have a chance to talk to him when I got back this morning.
Then he walks in as I change into my gear.
The coach, that’s what he’s always been, even off the ice.
The room goes quiet.
“First game of the season is in a few days,” he says. “This is where it starts.”
Everyone is alert now. Some of the guys nod.
“There’s no room for distractions, drama, or mistakes.” He looks at me, long enough for the entire room to feel it. “Keep your priorities straight, and if you can’t keep your head in the game, you don’t belong out there.”
He turns toward the exit, and the team follows him.
The second my blades hit the ice, I’m gone. I push faster, harder, and more recklessly than I should. My body moves on instinct as I try to outrun the noises in my head. The conversation dad and I had in his office earlier, Luna’s laugh from the car ride, the video, the text message.
“Where the hell is your head?” my dad yells at me from the boards, but I can barely hear him.
Cameron skates past me. “Didn’t know hockey players could move like this.” He says it loud enough for me to hear. “You and Ice Princess make a cute pair, though. If hockey doesn’t work out, you can absolutely be a figure skater.”
I drop my gloves without thinking, grab him by the collar, and slam him into the boards.
“Zayden!” Jasper yells from behind me. “Let him go.”
My fist curls for a punch, but I don’t hit him. I push him off and skate to the far side of the rink, but not before catching the look on my dad’s face.
Control yourself. Remember what’s at stake. Don’t forget who’s watching.
My helmet is off before I reach the bench. I snap my blade guards onto my skates and keep moving. My gear feels heavy with every step.
By the time I reach the locker room, the noise is gone, but I can’t outrun the storm building in my chest.
I peel off my gear piece by piece, gloves, elbow pads, jersey soaked with sweat and frustration.
My skates go into my bag. I pull my hoodie over my head and shut the locker behind me harder than I mean to. Still not hard enough to silence the voice in my head. Not hard enough to forget her face.
I turn toward the exit. The usual one that leads through the lounge, where I’ll have to see people and hear jokes I don’t have the patience for.
Turning around, I take the back way down the narrow hall instead, toward the back exit.
I push the door open, and that’s when I see her. Waiting for me to explain everything like I promised.
Her face lights up for a second when she sees me, and my cold heart does that little thing it does whenever she’s around. Like it knows her.
For a second, I want to cross the space between us. But I can’t, not after what my dad said. So I look down and walk right past her, even as my body is screaming to reach out for her.
She’s probably gonna hate me, but it’s better this way.