Chapter Nineteen Perceptions
HADLEY
The arena is quiet when I get there. I make my way down the back hallways toward the rink, my skates slung over my shoulder. Just as I’m about to reach the rink’s doors, a voice rings out behind me.
“Hadley?”
I look back to see my grandfather coming toward me, his face lighting up.
“Hey, Grandpa,” I reply. He pulls me into a bear hug, his big arms engulfing me.
“There’s my girl,” he murmurs warmly, squeezing me once before letting go. “What brings you in?”
“Just needed some skating time,” I reply.
He gives a sharp nod.
“Good,” he grunts, gesturing toward the ice with a gloved hand. “Better than sitting around that apartment all day. Go on, then. Get out there before I put you to work and make you scrub the bleachers.”
I grin up at him, knowing he’s joking, and he returns my gaze with his own soft one and a chuckle. “Thanks, Gramps.”
Turning, I continue forward, pushing the door open, but when I step into the rink area, I stop. It’s not so empty after all.
There’s someone on the ice. I don’t recognize him.
New to the team, maybe? I drift closer to the boards, resting my arms along the top rail as I watch him finish another pass.
He slows when he catches sight of me, coasting the last few feet before turning cleanly and gliding over.
When he gets closer, I get a better look at his face.
He’s pretty attractive, with his light brown hair and bright hazel eyes.
He’s tall, but not as tall as Julian, and more leanly muscled than my big guy.
It looks like he broke his nose at some point in his life, which pushes him across the line into rugged and less pretty boy.
“Hey,” he calls out. “You’re Hadley, right? Coach’s granddaughter?”
My brows lift in surprise. “You know who I am?”
He laughs under his breath, one hand hooking over the top of the boards as he leans in. “Yeah. I’ve seen you pop in and out of your grandpa’s office a few times.”
“Oh.” Strangely enough, I feel a little self-conscious at the thought of him noticing me like that. “I see.”
He studies me for a half-second, then swings himself over the boards in one smooth motion, landing beside me with a soft thud.
“Figured I’d introduce myself properly,” he says, offering a hand for me to shake. “I’m Theo. I just joined the team, which is still wild to say since I’ve been dreaming of being a Night Hawk since I was a kid.”
I take his hand with a small smile. “Hadley.”
“Nice to officially meet you.”
He grins as he lets go. It’s so casual and familiar, it throws me off for a second, but not in a bad way.
He looks down, his gaze dropping to the scuffed leather of my skates before tracking back up to my face.
He’s wearing a blue Night Hawks track jacket and thick hockey gloves, but no helmet. He's leaning heavily on his stick.
“You skating or just supervising?” he asks.
I laugh and decide to tease him a bit. “Definitely supervising.”
“Damn,” he chuckles. “Here I was hoping for a little company.”
“You seem fine without it.”
“Eh,” he shrugs. “Skating alone is fine, but it’s always more fun when you’ve got someone with you.”
I nod. “Can’t disagree with that. I’ll just get my skates on so I can alleviate your boredom.”
He laughs. “Appreciate it.”
Sitting on the team’s bench, I quickly lace up my skates before slipping out onto the ice to join Theo, who’s already back on it, skating figure eights while he waits for me.
“What are you doing here now, anyway?” I ask as I reach him and we stop next to each other in the middle of the rink. “You guys had practice earlier today, didn’t you?”
“I’ve been coming in early and staying late,” he explains after a minute. “Just trying to work on a few things and sharpen my skills. The guys on this team are the best of the best, after all. I’ve got to be on top of my game if I want to fit in.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Gotta keep up somehow.” He drags a hand back through his hair, a little breathless from skating. “Everyone’s already got their rhythm, you know? Systems, timing. I’m still catching up.”
“You don’t seem like you’re struggling,” I point out.
“That’s because I’m faking it well.” He winks at me. Then, after a beat, “Wilder’s been a big inspiration for me, especially because he plays the same position I do. If I can be half as good a player as he is, that would be amazing.”
At the mention of Julian’s name, my heart starts to race, and I feel all my blood rush to my face. Theo locks onto it in an instant.
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
I frown. “What?”
“That,” he declares, pointing at me. “That look.”
“I don’t have a look,” I insist, even as I feel my face growing hotter.
He laughs. “You absolutely have a look. The second I mentioned Wilder’s name, your entire face did a thing.”
“I don’t,” I repeat, crossing my arms and dropping my gaze from his, hoping he doesn’t read the embarrassment in my gaze.
“Hadley, come on! You just did it again.”
“I didn’t do anything!” I insist, even as a sudden, traitorous heat begins to creep up my neck.
“Mm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. He’s a hockey player; reading people’s shifts in weight and momentum is literally his job, and right now, he's reading me like an open book.
“You got all…” he gestures vaguely toward my face, “...flustered. Oh man. Don't tell me the coach’s granddaughter has a crush on a player.”
Oh, my God. This is so humiliating. “I’m not flustered.”
“You definitely are.” He sounds almost gleeful. He leans forward, his tone dropping into a mock-conspiratorial whisper. “Girl, you are in so much trouble. Do you know what Coach would do to Wilder if he found out?”
I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the ice. “It’s not like that.”
He snorts. “Uh-huh. Right.”
“It’s not what you think,” I insist, but it comes out thinner this time, like I don’t fully buy it myself.
He raises a brow, staring at me expectantly with his arms folded
I hold out for a second, then exhale in defeat. “Even if it was…it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
I hesitate, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of my sweater. “It’s complicated.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not an answer.”
I shoot him a narrowed-eyed glare. “It is when you don’t want to explain it.”
He lets out a short laugh. “Fair. But now I’m even more curious.”
I look away again. “Julian doesn’t feel that way about me, anyway.”
I expect him to make a joke out of it, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.
Theo lets out a low whistle, slowly shaking his head.
He shifts his weight, dropping the blade of his hockey stick onto a puck resting at his feet.
With effortless, rhythmic precision, he begins to click-clack the black rubber back and forth, his eyes tracking the puck for a few beats before he snaps his gaze back up to me.
“You sure about that?” he asks, arching a brow.
“What?”
He does a quick, flashy trick with the puck, flipping it onto the toe of his stick and letting it drop back to the rubber floor with a sharp clack. He catches my eyes and holds them, his expression deadpan. “That Wilder doesn’t like you. I bet he does.”
My eyes go wide and my stomach flutters. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he nods, his tone confident. He leans his forearm on top of his stick, looking up at me through the messy fringe of blonde hair falling across his forehead. “How could he not?”
My chest hurts because my heart is beating so hard.
“You’ve known me for, what, five minutes?” I scoff, trying to brush it off.
“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Doesn’t make it less true.”
I don’t respond to that. I really don’t know what to say, so I push off and skate at a slow, almost crawling pace as his words run through my mind.
“Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says, catching up to me. “That wasn’t my intention. I get it, you know.”
I frown at him. “Get what?”
He sighs. “Feeling like it’s off-limits.”
Something about the way he says it makes me look at him a little more closely.
“I understand it more than most, actually,” he adds under his breath.
I tilt my head. “What does that mean?”
He hesitates, the easy, confident smirk vanishing from his face.
The rhythmic click-clack of his hockey stick goes silent as he rests the blade flat against the floor, his knuckles turning white around the grip.
His jaw tightens so hard a small muscle leaps in his cheek, and his gaze drops to the rubber matting between his skates.
“There’s this guy I’ve liked since highschool…” he starts, then immediately stops.
The words hang between us, and his entire posture stiffens, his shoulders squaring under his track jacket as if he’s bracing for a blow.
Realizing the weight of what he’s saying, I gasp, “Oh!”
He exhales, dragging a hand back through his hair. “Forget I said that.”
“Hey,” I murmur, laying my hand on his arm. “You don’t have to…”
“Just…don’t tell anyone, okay?” he cuts in with a quiet desperation. “I’m not…I haven’t…”
“I won’t,” I assure him.
His eyes flick back to mine. He’s clearly nervous, but there’s a small amount of relief in his gaze.
“It’s your call,” I add. “When you tell people. If you tell people. I can tell you with total certainty that my grandpa won’t care, and neither will the team. They’re some of the best people I’ve ever met, and when you’re ready, you can trust them as you trusted me.”
The tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.
“Okay,” he murmurs after a second. “Yeah. Thanks, Hadley.”
“Of course.”
I hear the doors leading into the rink open behind us, and the atmosphere shifts in an instant, and I know without looking who’s just walked in.
Julian.
Slowly, I turn and find him just inside the doorway, his gaze locked on us. It lingers, taking in the distance between us…or the lack thereof.
Something in his expression tightens. I realize my hand is still on Theo’s arm and I snatch it away without thinking. Why am I acting like I’ve been caught doing something wrong?
Theo appears to see it too.
“Alright,” he declares suddenly, pushing away from me. “I should probably head out.”
I blink. “Already?”