Chapter 14
Maeve
Happiness makes you stupid.
It’s a chemical reaction, I’m convinced.
Dopamine floods the brain, short-circuiting the rational centers responsible for risk assessment, impulse control, and basic survival instincts.
It turns you into a reckless, grinning idiot who thinks the laws of physics—and the laws of strict university deans—don't apply to you.
I was currently high as a kite on happiness.
I sat in my Advanced Marketing seminar, twirling a pen between my fingers, staring blankly at the professor’s slide deck on "Consumer Behavior in the Digital Age." I wasn't listening. I was replaying the morning in my head.
Kai making coffee, wearing nothing but low-slung grey sweatpants.
Kai pulling me against the counter while the toast burned.
Kai whispering “Good morning, trouble” against my lips before kissing me so thoroughly I forgot my own name.
We were unstoppable.
The last week had been a dream. The Semi-Final win had solidified Kai’s draft stock—he was practically a lock for the top five. My grades were up. His grades were up. We were a power couple operating in the shadows, a secret society of two.
"Miss Sterling?"
I blinked, snapping back to reality. The professor, Dr. Aris, was staring at me. So was the entire class of thirty students.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, flashing my best innocent smile.
"I asked for your thoughts on the brand loyalty case study," Dr. Aris said, adjusting his glasses. "Specifically, the impact of scandal on long-term consumer trust."
Scandal.
The word pricked at my bubble, but it didn't pop it.
"Scandal is temporary," I said confidently.
"Brand loyalty is emotional. If the consumer feels a genuine connection—if they believe the brand understands them—they'll forgive a lot.
People don't buy products, Dr. Aris. They buy feelings.
They buy stories. If the story is good enough, the scandal becomes just... a plot twist."
Dr. Aris raised an eyebrow. "A cynical take, but not inaccurate. Thank you."
I leaned back in my chair, feeling smug.
My phone buzzed on the desk. A text.
Kai: Thinking about plot twists?
I looked around the room. How did he know?
Kai: Stop looking around. I'm not there. I just felt a disturbance in the force. You're overthinking something.
I smiled down at the screen.
Maeve: I'm nailing this class, actually. I'm brilliant.
Kai: You're distracting. I'm trying to watch film and all I can see is you in that blue dress you wore this morning.
Maeve: It's a sweater dress. Very professional.
Kai: Very short. Come to the rink after class. I want to show you something.
Maeve: Is it a puck?
Kai: It's better than a puck.
I bit my lip to stop the giggle threatening to escape.
"Miss Sterling, perhaps you'd like to share your text exchange with the class?" Dr. Aris asked dryly. "Since it seems more engaging than my lecture?"
"Just checking on a… client project," I lied smoothly, sliding the phone into my bag.
See? Stupid. reckless. And I didn't care.
The rink was empty when I arrived at 4:00 PM.
The varsity practice had ended an hour ago. The ice had been freshly cut, the surface gleaming like a mirror under the high industrial lights. The air was cold, smelling of that distinct mix of frozen water and rubber that I had come to associate with Kai.
I walked down to the glass, my heels clicking on the concrete.
Kai was there. He was alone on the ice, wearing his practice gear but no helmet. He was skating slow, lazy circles in the neutral zone, shooting pucks at the empty net with a casual flick of his wrists. Ping. Ping. Ping.
He saw me. He stopped, skating over to the boards where I stood.
He didn't say anything. He just looked at me through the glass. The hunger in his eyes was palpable. It made my knees weak.
"Get on the ice," he said.
"Excuse me?" I laughed. "I am wearing suede boots, Kai. And I don't skate."
"I know. That's why I brought these."
He pointed to the bench. There was a pair of white figure skates sitting there. Brand new.
"You bought me skates?"
"I rented them," he admitted. "Buying is a commitment. Let's see if you can stand up first."
"I'm not getting on the ice," I protested, walking around to the bench. "I'll fall. I'll break a wrist. I have to draw."
"You won't fall," he said, skating over to the gate and opening it. "I won't let you."
He held out his hand.
It was a dare. It was an invitation.
I looked at his hand—the taped knuckles, the strong fingers. Then I looked at his face. He was smiling. A real, genuine, boyish smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
How could I say no to that?
"If I die," I muttered, sitting down to unlace my boots, "my father will sue you into the Stone Age."
"If you die," Kai countered, "I'll give you mouth-to-mouth. Win-win."
I laced up the skates. They were stiff and uncomfortable. I wobbled as I stood up on the rubber matting.
Kai was waiting at the gate. I stepped onto the ice.
Instantly, my feet slid out from under me.
I shrieked, flailing.
Kai caught me. His arm wrapped around my waist like a steel band, pulling me flush against his chest. He was solid, immovable.
"I got you," he murmured into my hair. "Balance. Bend your knees. Don't fight it."
I clung to his jersey, my heart racing. "This is a terrible idea. I hate it. Put me back."
"Relax," he soothed, starting to move backward slowly, pulling me with him. "Just glide, Maeve. Trust me."
I looked down at my feet. They were moving. Sliding.
"Look up," he commanded. "Look at me."
I looked up. His face was inches from mine.
"Better?" he asked.
"A little," I admitted.
He guided me around the circle. It was... nice. The cold air on my cheeks, the warmth of his body, the sound of our skates cutting the silence. We were the only two people in the world.
"Why are we doing this?" I asked.
"Because," Kai said, spinning me gently so my back was to his chest, his arms wrapping around me from behind to hold my hands. "You need to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why I love it," he whispered in my ear. "Why I put up with the pain. The pressure."
He pushed off, picking up a little speed. Not too fast, just enough to feel the wind.
"It's freedom," he said. "Out here, there's no noise. No expectations. Just physics. Action and reaction. It's the only place I feel... clean."
I leaned back against him, letting him take my weight. I closed my eyes. I felt it. The smooth glide. The weightlessness.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
"You're beautiful," he corrected.
He slowed down, turning us near the boards in the corner where the glass was high and shadowed. He pinned me gently against the wall.
"Kai," I warned, looking around at the empty seats. "Anyone could walk in."
"Let them," he growled.
He kissed me.
It wasn't a sweet skating-rink kiss. It was deep and possessive. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me. His hands dropped from my waist to cup my ass, lifting me slightly so I was eye-level with him. My skates dangled above the ice.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back with everything I had. I forgot the arena. I forgot the Dean. I forgot the rules.
We were invincible.
"Hey! Volkov!"
The shout echoed through the arena like a gunshot.
We broke apart, scrambling. Kai dropped me—gently—back to the ice. I wobbled, clutching the boards for support.
Up in the stands, near the press box tunnel, a figure was standing.
It was Silas.
And next to him... was Carter. My ex.
My blood ran cold.
Silas waved, looking awkward. Carter was smirking. He was holding his phone up.
Had he taken a picture?
"Practice ended an hour ago, Cap!" Carter yelled down, his voice dripping with false cheer. "Didn't know you offered private lessons. How much for an hour?"
Kai went rigid. The "Machine" slammed back into place instantly. His face went blank, his eyes cold.
"Get off the ice, Carter," Kai barked, skating a few feet away from me to create distance. "This is a closed session."
"Closed session?" Carter laughed. "Looks pretty open to me. Does the Dean know you're using varsity ice time to mack on his daughter?"
"Leave," Kai said. It wasn't a request. It was a threat.
Silas grabbed Carter's arm, pulling him back. "Come on, man. Let's go."
Carter shook him off. "Whatever. Just checking out the competition. See you at the Finals, Volkov. Try not to slip."
He turned and walked away, Silas casting one last apologetic look at us before following.
I stood there, trembling in my rented skates.
"Did he see?" I whispered.
Kai skated back to me. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek.
"He saw," Kai said grimly.
"Did he take a photo?"
"Maybe."
"Kai..."
"It doesn't matter," Kai said, grabbing my hand. "Let him talk. He's nobody. He's just jealous."
"He's not nobody," I said, panic rising in my throat. "He's loud. And he hates us."
"He can't prove anything," Kai insisted. "We were just skating. Friends skate."
"Friends don't kiss like that," I pointed out.
"He was far away," Kai reasoned, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "It was dark in this corner. It's fine, Maeve. Trust me."
I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe that our bubble was impenetrable.
But as I looked up at the empty stands, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ice.
The shadow had fallen.
We drove back to the penthouse in silence. The playful mood of the afternoon was dead, replaced by a heavy, anxious tension.
Kai tried to act normal. He made dinner—pasta this time, which he didn't burn. We ate at the island. But he kept checking his phone.
"Who are you texting?" I asked finally, stabbing a penne noodle.
"Silas," he admitted. "Asking him what Carter said."
"And?"
"And nothing. Carter is just blowing smoke. He didn't take a photo. Silas made him delete it."
"He did take a photo?" I dropped my fork. It clattered loudly on the plate.
"He tried," Kai corrected quickly. "Silas stopped him. It's handled."
"It's not handled!" I stood up, pacing the kitchen. "Kai, he knows. And if he knows, he'll tell people. He'll tell the team. He'll tell... everyone."
"So what?" Kai slammed his phone down. "Let them know. I'm tired of hiding, Maeve. I'm tired of sneaking around like a criminal. I love you. Why is that a crime?"
"Because of your dad!" I shouted. "Because of the draft! Because of everything!"
"I don't care about my dad right now."
"You should! He controls your future!"
"I control my future!" Kai roared, standing up. He towered over me, his chest heaving. "I am the one on the ice. I am the one scoring the goals. If I go first round, I have leverage. I can tell him to go to hell. I can tell the Dean to go to hell."
"And if you don't?" I asked quietly. "If the scandal breaks before the draft? If teams get scared off?"
Kai went silent. He looked away.
"Then we figure it out," he said stubbornly.
"We?" I asked. "Or you?"
"We," he said firmly. He reached out, pulling me into his arms. I resisted for a second, then melted. I was too scared to fight him. "We figure it out. Together."
He kissed the top of my head.
"Silas has our back," he promised. "Carter is a coward. Nothing is going to happen."
I nodded into his chest.
But I didn't believe him.
Later that night, while Kai was in the shower, my phone buzzed.
I picked it up.
It was an Instagram DM. From an account called Blackstone_Confessions.
It was a photo.
Grainy. Dark. Taken from high up in the stands of the arena.
It showed two figures on the ice. One in a hockey jersey. One in a white coat. They were pressed against the boards. They were kissing.
It wasn't a clear shot of our faces. But the caption was clear enough.
Confession #492: Looks like the King found his Queen. Or should we say, the Captain found the Dean's daughter? Talk about a power play. Wonder what Daddy Sterling thinks about his little girl playing puck bunny on varsity ice? #Scandal #OffLimits #Checkmate
I stared at the screen. My hands started to shake.
It wasn't Carter.
Carter had been with Silas. Silas had stopped him.
Someone else was there.
Someone else had been watching.
I heard the water turn off in the bathroom. Kai was coming out.
I had a choice.
I could show him the photo. I could tell him the secret was out. We could panic together. We could prepare for the fallout.
But if I showed him now... he would spiral. The Finals were in two days. He needed to be focused. If he saw this, he would go after whoever posted it. He would get in a fight. He would get suspended.
I looked at the bathroom door.
I thought about his dad. The refineries.
I thought about his dream. The cabin.
I deleted the message.
I blocked the account.
I put the phone down.
When Kai walked into the bedroom, towel around his waist, smiling at me, I smiled back.
"Everything okay?" he asked, climbing into bed beside me.
"Everything's perfect," I lied.
I snuggled into his side. I laid my head on his chest.
I was going to fix this. I didn't know how, but I was going to fix it. I was going to find out who posted it, and I was going to shut them down.
I was going to protect him.
Even if it meant lying to him.
"I love you," he whispered into the dark.
"I love you too," I whispered back.
But as I stared at the ceiling, I knew the truth.
Invincibility was a myth.
And the fall was going to be brutal.