Chapter Eleven
Knox
The buzz of the Gravepoint Arena feels different tonight. Maybe it’s because the last time I was here at night, I was chasing Leila across the ice. Or maybe it’s because I know I need to tell her the truth; this is no longer chasing her for fun anymore. I want her to know it’s me.
The roar of the home crowd hits me as I step onto the ice for the team warmups. I scan the stands, looking toward the visitors’ section. Leila sits with a small group of Stormhaven fans, wearing her Kane jersey, her brothers’ name stretched across her back.
“You good?” Riven asks.
“I want to tell her,” I say, firing a practice shot at the net. “Tonight. After the game.”
“Jagger said the same thing earlier.”
What I really want is to see her wearing our colors. In my jersey. My name across her back. But she doesn’t even know it’s us she should be cheering for yet.
The warmup ends, and as we line up for the national anthem, I stand next to Jagger. He’s staring in the same direction as I was earlier.
“I’m sick of hiding,” I murmur quietly, and repeat my earlier words to Riven. “I want to tell her who we are.”
Jagger glances at me. “Tonight?”
“After the game. Win or lose, we tell her everything.” I pause. “I want her in these stands wearing our jersey, not theirs.”
“Agreed,” Jagger says. “Let’s make it a game worth watching first.”
The anthem ends, and we take our positions for the opening face-off. I line up against Landon Kane, while Jagger is opposite Levi. The puck drops, and the game starts.
Landon is fast—he’s got quick hands and an annoying ability to anticipate where the puck is going.
I catch him easily, and every time I hit him into the boards, I think about what it’s going to be like when Leila finally knows the truth.
By the end of the first period, we are tied 1-1, and Jagger and Levi have been shit-talking each other all game.
At the start of the second period, they are battling for the puck in the corner, both fighting for position. I can hear the constant stream of insults from across the ice.
Then Levi says something in a low voice that I can’t make out, but Jagger’s entire body tenses.
“What was that?” Jagger snarls, getting in Levi’s face.
“You heard me,” Levi shoots back, shoving Jagger’s chest.
Jagger shoves back a lot harder. “Say it again. I fucking dare you.”
The refs are skating over, but it’s too late. Levi throws an elbow that catches Jagger square in the ribs, and Jagger retaliates, using his stick to cross-check Levi into the boards with enough force to rattle the glass.
“Fuck you!” Levi roars. He spins around and shoves Jagger so hard he stumbles backward.
Then they’re both removing their gloves, and the crowd goes nuts when they drop them to the ice.
Jagger swings first, connecting with Levi’s shoulder.
Levi counters with a punch that grazes Jagger’s helmet.
Jagger lands a solid hit to Levi’s jaw. Levi drags Jagger’s jersey over his head, getting in several more shots before Jagger breaks free.
“Shit,” I mutter, skating toward them as fast as I can. There is no way they are stopping this without someone intervening.
Jagger removes his helmet, and that is never a good sign, especially when Levi does the same.
The refs are moving in, but I get there first, grabbing Jagger’s jersey and trying to pull him back. “Jagger, stop!”
But Jagger’s not listening. He’s got Levi’s jersey twisted in his fist and lands another punch to his ribs. Levi gets an arm free and catches Jagger in the side of his head. They’re both bleeding, Jagger from a cut above his eye, Levi from his lip.
“I hate your fucking face, Holt!” Levi spits out, blood dripping from his mouth.
Jagger laughs—actually laughs—even as he’s being pulled back by the refs. “Yeah? Well, my face isn’t what your sister likes about me!”
Everything stops. The refs freeze for half a second as Levi’s face morphs from red to purple.
“YOU’RE DEAD!” Levi roars, lunging forward again, but Landon appears out of nowhere and wraps both arms around him, practically lifting him off his skates.
“Not helping, Jagger!” I yell at him.
“I won’t believe my sister is stupid enough to be a puck bunny!” Levi shouts, still struggling against Landon.
The word hangs in the air for a split second before Jagger breaks free from the refs and lands a brutal punch right on Levi’s jaw.
Levi’s head snaps back, and Landon loses his grip.
All hell breaks loose as both benches empty onto the ice.
“Don’t be mad, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me,” Jagger taunts.
“You fucking piece of shit!” Levi roars, but Jagger just smirks at him. Then he breaks free of his brother and skates toward the section where his sister is sitting. “Leila! Are you fucking Holt?!”
The crowd goes quiet as everyone watches Levi slam his hand against the glass, screaming at his sister. I can see Leila’s face from here, and something inside me snaps.
As I skate over to where Levi is, pure rage races through my veins. I catch him with a body check that sends him crashing into the boards, his head cracking against the glass as he goes down hard. The crowd gasps, and I’m already ripping off my own helmet, tossing it aside as I lean over him.
“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” I say. “Do you hear me? Ever.”
Levi stares up at me, blood trickling from his lip. “Who the fuck . . .”
“Knox, come on.” Riven’s voice cuts through the blood swooshing through my ears, and he skates over and grabs my shoulder. “That’s enough. You made your point.”
He pulls me back, but I don’t take my eyes off Levi. “I mean it,” I spit. “You disrespect her again, and this won’t end with you on your ass.”
I look over to where Leila stands pressed against the glass, tears streaming down her face. Her hand is over her mouth, and her eyes are wide with shock and confusion.
She doesn’t know who I am beyond her classmate. She doesn’t understand why a Gravepoint player defended her against her own brother. Yet she’s looking at me like everything has clicked into place.
The refs are blowing their whistles, and I’m getting a five-minute major penalty for that hit, maybe more. I don’t care. All I care about is the way Leila is looking at me.
“Penalty box, Mercer,” the ref says, grabbing my arm. “Now.”
He leads me away, but I don’t break eye contact with Leila. Not until I’m seated and Jagger skates up to the penalty box and joins me.
“Well,” he says, “that was one way to tell her who we are.”
“Shut up,” I mutter. “She is going to fucking hate us now.”
From where I’m sitting, I can see Leila has gone back to her seat in the stands, and I hate the look on her face.
The rest of the game passes in a blur. We beat Stormhaven 4-2, but the victory doesn’t feel like one to celebrate.
Coach is waiting for us in the locker room, and the second the door closes behind the last player, he explodes. “What in the actual fuck was that out there?” He paces back and forth. “Mercer, Holt. You want to explain to me why you decided to turn our hockey game into a god-damn circus?”
“Coach—” Jagger starts, but Coach cuts him off.
“Actually, I don’t want to hear it! Fighting is part of the game, but that”—he gestures toward the door—“was personal and fucking reckless. And you”—he points directly at me—“that was the stupidest fucking hit I’ve seen you make all season. You’re lucky you didn’t get ejected.”
I keep my head down. My knuckles are bruised, and my ribs ache from where Landon got me in retaliation during the third period. But all I can think about is Leila’s face pressed against the glass.
“We won,” Coach continues, “yet all anyone’s going to talk about tomorrow is how two of my best players lost their minds over some girl. Do you understand how that makes the team look?”
“It wasn’t just some girl,” I say quietly.
“I don’t care if it was the Queen of England!” Coach roars. “Check your personal shit at the door when you step on my ice. Both of you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Coach,” Jagger and I say in unison.
“Good. Now clean up and get the hell out of my sight. If I ever see another stunt like that, you’ll both be riding the bench. I don’t care how good you are.”
He storms out, and the rest of the team avoids looking at us.
“Well,” Riven says calmly, already out of his goalie gear. “That went well.”
“Shut up,” Jagger mutters as he pulls off his pads. I strip off my gear as quickly as possible, my mind already racing.
We need to find Leila. We need to explain.
“She’s probably still here,” Riven says, reading my thoughts. “She can’t have gotten far.”
“Let’s go,” I say, not bothering to shower. I pull on track pants and then a hoodie over my compression shirt, which is still damp with sweat, then drag on my runners.
Jagger and Riven are right behind me as we push through the locker room door and head toward the main concourse. The arena is still crowded with fans, and we brush through them, looking for Leila.
“There,” Jagger says, pointing toward the visitors’ section.
When we get there, the Stormhaven fans are already filing out, and there’s no sign of Leila among them. We check the main entrance, the parking lot access, and even circle back to the home section in case she somehow ended up there.
“Maybe she went to find her brothers,” Riven suggests, though he doesn’t sound convinced. We make our way toward the visitors’ locker room area, but security stops us before we can get close.
“Players only,” the guard says. “You know the rules.”
“We’re looking for someone,” I say, trying to peer past him.
“Not my problem. Clear the area.”
Frustrated, we head toward the parking lot, hoping to catch her before she leaves. But we see the Stormhaven team bus pulling away, and when I check the visitor parking section, Levi’s truck is gone.
“Fuck,” I snap, running a hand through my hair.
“She’s gone,” Jagger says, stating the obvious. He pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“What are you doing?” Riven asks.
“Texting her. What do you think?”
My phone is already in my hand, and I pull up our group chat. Then, before any of us can send a message, Jagger stops with a curse.
“Wait,” he snaps. “What do we even say? ‘Hey, sorry your brother just found out you’ve been fucking around with us. Want to meet up?’”
“We need to tell her the truth,” I say.
“She’s probably not even going to respond,” Riven points out. “Leila just watched her brothers get into a fight because of her, then watched you body check one of them into the glass. She’s either furious or confused, possibly both.”
He’s right, but that doesn’t stop me from typing.
Harry
We need to talk
I hit send before I can second-guess my actions. Jagger and Riven do the same, their messages appearing one after another in the group chat.
GlowStick
Please. Let us explain
Breadstick
We’re sorry. We need to see you
The three of us stand in the parking lot, staring at our phones, waiting for the three dots to show she’s typing, but they never come.
“She’s not going to answer,” Jagger finally says, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Not tonight.”
“So what do we do?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“We wait,” Riven says. “We give her space to process. And then we find her tomorrow and tell her everything.”
“And if she won’t see us?”
Riven’s expression is unreadable. “We deal with that if it happens. But knowing her, she’ll want answers, or she may want to yell at us.”
He’s probably right. But as we head back to our cars, I can’t shake the image of her face pressed against the glass, tears running down her cheeks, looking at me like I’d shattered her entire world. Now I have to figure out how to put it back together.