Chapter 5 Collin
COLLIN
My lungs burn as I carve across the ice, anticipating Nick’s next move.
He’s got this tell when he’s about to strike, a slight shoulder drop that most people miss.
But I’ve been playing with him long enough to know better.
The puck feels like an extension of my stick right now, which is more than I can say for my game with Iris.
Even after a week of our nightly practice sessions, it took my absolute best behavior to get her number.
Okay, and maybe I begged. A lot. Fat lot of good that did me, considering she’s left my last four texts on read.
I was starting to think she gave me a fake until she smirked at me when I called her out on it during practice last night.
Get it together, King. Focus on the puck.
The goal. Not the way she bit back a smile when you ate it on the ice last night.
Like she was trying not to laugh. Like maybe she doesn’t completely hate you after all.
Nick blindsides me with a check that rattles my teeth. This morning’s scrimmage has been brutal. He swipes the puck and loops back toward the other end, away from Nick’s net. “Better stick to figure eights, ballerina!” he calls over his shoulder.
“Hey, twinkle toes!” Hayes shouts from inside the net. “That what happens when you trade in sticks for tights?” The chirp catches me so off guard I nearly lose my edge coming off the boards.
“What the fuck? How do you know about that?” Haye’s laugh echoes across the ice.
“Good news travels fast, bud!” I shove off hard, face burning under my visor.
Great. Awesome. Fucking fantastic. We run drills until my legs feel like lead.
Pass, shoot, block, check. Again. Again.
Harder. Faster. I tune everything out, lose myself in the rhythm.
The sound of blades cutting ice. The weight of the stick.
The burn in my thighs. End to end sprints that leave me gasping.
One-timers until my shoulders ache. Defensive drills that have me skating backward so long I forget what forward feels like until Coach Wilson’s whistle splits the air.
“Hit the showers, ladies!” He catches my eye as I skate past. “Nice to see you showing up for the team, King.” I flash him my best smile, sweat slipping down the side of my face.
“Nice to see you too, Coach!” The glare he gives me could freeze hell. My smile drops and I make a quick exit toward the locker room.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Beckett laughs behind me.
My skates feel heavy on the rubber mats.
Even through my damp practice jersey, the temperature change hits as soon as we leave the ice.
The familiar mix of stale air, sweat, and equipment makes my nose wrinkle.
I drop onto the bench in front of my stall, letting my head fall back against the wall for a moment before starting to undo my gear.
The room fills with the usual post-practice noise—skates being unlaced, gear hitting the floor, guys bitching about their shots, their passes, coach’s drills.
“So,” Hayes drawls from two stalls down, “learning any sweet moves for us, King?” I flip him off without looking, focused on getting my left elbow pad unstuck.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Hey Nick,” Hayes calls across the room. “What’s the over-under on Collin face-planting during his big debut?”
“Twenty bucks says he eats ice before the first turn,” Nick shoots back, grinning.
“You’re both hilarious,” I mutter, chucking my pad at Hayes’s head. Cool, so this is never gonna die. They’ll be calling me Twinkle Toes till I retire. I peel off my practice jersey and rake my hand through my damp hair, pushing it back from my face.
“Dude.” The bench creaks under Beckett’s weight as he drops down next to me, the guy’s built like a damn bear.
“Saturday is gonna be brutal without you.” The full sleeve of black tattoos, Icarus falling, tally marks, and roses throughout, dark against his skin as he scrubs at his hair with a towel. “Coach put Stevens in your spot.”
“Stevens?” My brows furrows. “Mr. I-Haven’t-Smiled-Since-2019?”
“That’s the one. Four hours on a plane to Chicago with that walking rain cloud.” He flops back dramatically. “Who’s gonna help me throw gummy bears at Hayes when he falls asleep?” I snort.
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Will I though?” He sits up, fixing me with an accusing look. “Without my work husband?”
“I know, honey bear, I’m sad about it too.” I push my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “We’ll always have practice.” Beckett shoves my shoulder.
“Ugh, you always make it weird.” He heaves himself up from the bench, shaking his head as he walks off.
I laugh, but it fades as I watch him go.
A weight settles in my chest, that same sinking feeling I got when they slapped that suspension notice on me.
Your behavior reflects on this team, King.
Like I needed the reminder. The gossip sites had done plenty of that already, splashing photos everywhere of me stumbling out of clubs, a different girl on my arm every weekend.
Hours of damage control couldn’t erase those headlines.
Now I’m missing an away game, and yeah, maybe I deserve it.
But watching everyone else suit up without me?
Brutal. The guys are still laughing and shoving each other across the room, but it feels distant now.
These are my boys, my team, and I let them down.
Not just with the suspension, with everything.
The missed practices, showing up hungover, treating everything like it was some big joke.
Coach was right, they deserve better than that.
Keep the bar low enough and no one gets hurt when you fail to clear it—that's what I'd always told myself.
Don't get too invested, don't try too hard, don't let anyone expect too much—that way, when you inevitably screw up, the damage is contained.
But looking around this locker room, seeing the disappointment in Beckett's eyes, knowing I'm letting my team down... maybe I had it backwards. Maybe not trying is the thing that hurts people most. I grab my towel and head for the showers, feet squeaking against the tile. I don’t make it far before I hear footsteps behind me.
“So, three months of figure skating?” Hayes’s voice bounces off the walls as he follows me in.
“That’s what management landed on?” Steam fills the air as I turn on the shower, testing the water with my hand.
The water pressure here has always been garbage, but today it feels like needles against my skin.
“You guys mind? Kind of trying to shower here.” Nick appears in the doorway, shoulder propped against the frame.
“So who’d they pair you with?” I step under the spray, hoping they’ll take the hint. They don’t.
“Haven’t met her yet.” The lie slides out easy, even as my mind drifts to last night’s practice—the way Iris moved across the ice with this effortless grace that made me look even more hopeless in comparison.
Not that I was watching her or anything.
Much. Okay, maybe a little more than necessary, but come on. She’s kind of impossible not to notice.
“Is she hot?” Hayes asks, not believing my lie for a second. She’s gorgeous. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Her face flashing through my mind. Those bright green eyes and that smile she tries to hide when I make a joke or flirt. Fuck me. This is not helping.
“Yeah,” I huff, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. “She’s hot.”
“That’s it?” Hayes sounds disappointed. “Just ‘she’s hot’?” Water runs into my eyes as I rinse my hair, giving me an excuse to keep them shut.
“What do you want, her measurements?”
“Details, man!” I can practically hear him bouncing on his feet. “What’s her name? What’s she like? Does she—”
“Oh my god.” I turn to face them, water dripping everywhere. “Can a guy shower in peace?” Nick snorts.
“He’s dodging.”
“Totally dodging,” Hayes agrees. “Ten bucks says he’s already fucked her.
” They are right about one thing. I’m definitely dodging.
I don’t want to share her. Not with the team, not with the press, not with anyone.
It’s killing me that she seems so unbothered by me.
Hell, I can’t even get a text back. That’s never happened to me before.
Ever. I can’t figure this girl out, but I wasn’t about to tell them that.
I shrug and reach for the shower knob, twisting it off.
Water drips down my face as I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist.
“We’re just friends. Teammates.” I nod more to myself than either of them.
I had to remember that. Had to remember what a new scandal could cost me.
I didn’t even know why I was having this conversation anyways.
Iris Clark was off-limits. She shouldn’t matter and I shouldn’t have to be having a conversation about my love life while half-naked because my teammates have zero concept of personal space.
The shit I put up with. “Don’t you two have lives?
” I ask instead. “Homes to go to? Dogs to feed? Anything?”
“Nope,” they answer in unison.
“Get out.” I grunt, waving them off. Hayes crosses his arms over his chest.
“So, if you’re ‘just teammates,’ does that mean she’s single? Because I’m thinking maybe I should start taking some figure skating lessons myself...”
“Don’t even think about it,” I snap before I can stop myself. The grin that spreads across his face could power the entire arena.
“Ha! There it is!” He points at me triumphantly. “Just teammates my ass!”
“I swear to God, Hayes—”