Chapter 39 #3
The complete certainty in his eyes when he looked at me like loving me was the easiest thing he had ever done.
38
Cade
Game day always felt electric.
But tonight?
Tonight felt violent.
The Furnace pulsed around us in waves of noise and cold air and adrenaline, the arena already half full nearly an hour before puck drop while Fury banners hung from the rafters and warm-up music blasted through the speakers hard enough to vibrate through the concrete beneath my skates.
The ice reflected bright arena lights in sharp white streaks while fans packed themselves against the glass, jerseys everywhere, signs raised high, phones already recording before we’d even hit the ice for official warmups.
Usually, game day narrowed and focused me. Everything else disappeared the second my skates touched the ice.
Tonight, everything felt sharper instead.
Because Pip was in this building, wearing my name on her back, sitting right behind the glass.
The locker room was loud before warmups, music blasting while guys shoved gear on and taped sticks and chirped each other across the room like absolute idiots.
The smell of sharpened steel, sweat, tape adhesive, and pregame energy hung thick in the air while Easton sat beside me tightening the laces on his skates with the expression of a man who had been waiting to annoy me all day.
“You look suspiciously well rested,” he said casually.
Briggs looked up immediately from across the room. “Oh?”
I sighed without looking at either of them. “You fuckers are exhausting.”
Rider snorted from beside Ryan. “So that’s a yes.”
“It’s not a no,” Briggs said thoughtfully. “And honestly, that’s enough for me.”
Easton leaned back in his chair slowly. “Interesting. Because I heard a rumor.”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. “Did you?”
“Mm.” He nodded seriously. “That rumor says somebody finally stopped acting like a tortured Victorian man and spent the night at Bliss Bennett’s apartment.”
The entire locker room erupted instantly.
Sticks slammed against stalls.
Someone yelled “finally” from the showers.
Briggs stood up dramatically, clutching his chest. “Love wins.”
“Sit down,” I muttered.
“No, no,” Briggs continued, pointing at me like he’d discovered fire. “I need everyone to appreciate that this man spent two months staring at Bliss like she personally invented oxygen and then acted confused when we noticed.”
Rider looked over calmly while taping his stick. “You wrote poetry in the group chat once.”
My head snapped toward him. “That is a disgusting exaggeration.”
Easton burst out laughing. “Buddy, you said, and I quote, she makes it easy to understand why men used to die in wars.”
Rider choked on his water laughing.
I pointed at Easton. “Funny coming from a guy who’s mysteriously spent the night at Bliss’s apartment before.”
The locker room turned instantly.
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” Briggs yelled. “Deflection.”
Easton looked horrified. “That is not the same thing.”
I leaned back against my stall, grinning now. “Really? Because from what I hear, you’ve had a suspicious amount of movie nights.”
Easton pointed at me aggressively. “Aura and I are normal.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t do this before a game.”
Ryan shook his head slowly. “He’s rattled.”
“I am not rattled.”
“You’re blushing,” Briggs informed him.
“I hate all of you.”
“Love you too, Wade.”
The room cracked up again while Easton buried his face in his gloves.
Coach walked in before the chirping could escalate into violence, and the locker room snapped back into focus instantly. Music lowered. Guys straightened. Helmets started going on.
But even through the shift into game mode, Briggs still leaned toward me one last time.
“So, are we officially using the word girlfriend, or are you still emotionally constipated?”
I stared at him flatly.
Briggs nodded once. “Got it. We’re close though.”
Honestly?
Closer than he realized.
Because the second I woke up in Bliss’s bed this morning with her smiling at me like she finally believed she was allowed to be loved safely, something inside me locked into place permanently.
Mine.
The kind of certainty that settled into your bones and stayed there.
Coach started final pregame talk, but my focus flickered for half a second toward the tunnel leading out to the ice because somewhere beyond it was Bliss behind the glass in my jersey just like she promised.
And heaven help anyone standing in front of me tonight because of it.
The second we hit the ice for warmups, I found her immediately.
My eyes tracked automatically toward the seats behind the glass near center ice, and there she was, wearing my black MERCER 55 jersey over ripped skinny jeans and Nikes, hair down in loose waves while Aura and Charm screamed beside her like complete lunatics.
But she wasn’t only with the girls tonight.
Her family had taken over half the row around her like a Bennett security detail dressed in game-day casual.
Daniel stood behind her shoulder in a Fury hoodie that looked brand-new enough to tell me someone had made him buy it for tonight, arms crossed, eyes already narrowed at the ice like he was trying to decide whether hockey was a sport or a sanctioned excuse for assault.
Ryker was beside him, jaw tight, posture rigid, looking like he wanted to hate me on principle but couldn’t quite manage it while Bliss bounced on her toes in my jersey.
Knox stood near the aisle with that cop stare of his scanning exits, players, crowd movement, everything, because apparently hypervigilance was a family heirloom.
Lyon and Emmitt were already chirping each other over something on the ice, while Kellen had his phone up recording like he had appointed himself family historian of my public emotional downfall.
The second her eyes found mine, Bliss smiled, and my chest physically tightened.
Not the polished smile she used when people were watching too closely. Not the careful one she gave the world when she wanted everyone to believe she was fine.
This one was real.
Big.
Bright.
Reckless.
Mine.
Daniel noticed it. Of course he did. His gaze shifted from her face to mine through the glass, and even from the ice, even with the noise and distance and lights, I felt the weight of it. Not a warning exactly. Not approval either. Something harder to earn than both.
A father watching his daughter look happy and trying to decide if the man responsible deserved to keep breathing.
Fair.
Honestly? Respect.
Ryker leaned down and said something near Bliss’s ear.
She turned and shoved at his chest with both hands, laughing, while Aura pointed at me like she was presenting evidence in court and Charm practically levitated beside them.
Kellen zoomed in on the whole thing, and Knox caught him by the back of the hoodie without even looking, dragging him out of someone’s way before he got trampled by a student section losing its mind before the puck had even dropped.
Easton skated by me muttering, “Yeah, you’re definitely scoring tonight.”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“That’s not a denial.”
And it wasn’t.
Because Bliss Bennett was behind the glass wearing my name, surrounded by the people who loved her most in the world, and for once she wasn’t shrinking between them like she needed protection from the night.
She was glowing inside it.
That thought alone nearly made me want to tear the opposing team apart molecule by molecule, just so she could see me in greatness. I wanted her proud that I was hers.
The puck dropped twenty minutes later.
And after that?
Everything became destruction.
The kind that made the game slow down around me until every pass, every opening, every hit felt obvious before it happened. My legs felt explosive, lungs burning perfectly while adrenaline ripped through my bloodstream hot enough to make me reckless in all the right ways.
Halfway through the first period, I buried one top shelf so hard their goalie slammed his stick against the post afterward.
The crowd detonated.
And through all the screaming, all the lights, all the chaos, my eyes still found Bliss behind the glass losing her absolute mind.
Mine.
The thought nearly made me dangerous.
Three shifts later, I flattened one of their defensemen hard enough the bench exploded while Briggs nearly fell over laughing skating past me.
“That man has a family, Mercer.”
“He’ll recover,” I muttered.
“Emotionally?”
“No.”
The first period ended 3-0 Fury.
One goal from me with two assists. And enough hits that Coach looked ready to frame the game tape.
The second period somehow got worse.
Or better.
Depends who you asked.
Because now the other team was pissed.
Which meant I got real confident.
One of their forwards chirped something at me after a whistle, and I barely even heard it before shoving him backward hard enough he nearly ate ice. The crowd roared instantly while refs separated us and Easton skated by grinning like a psychopath.
“There he is.”
“Shut up and score.”
“Working on it, captain.”
Five minutes later, he did exactly that.
The Furnace erupted again. Student section losing their minds. Briggs banging his stick against the boards screaming absolute nonsense. And every single time I looked toward the glass, Bliss was there. Just watching me like I was hers too.
That was the thing wrecking me most.
Not the sex. Not waking up in her bed. Not even finally hearing her admit she wanted me.
It was the trust.
The way she looked at me now like she believed I could hold every broken piece of her life without dropping any of it.
Late in the second period, I scored again, and this one wasn’t pretty hockey. It wasn’t finesse or patience or some clean textbook goal Coach could pause during film review and call beautiful.
It was violence.