Chapter 15
Ben
The Frozen Four is the holy grail of college hockey. It’s the event where boys become men, where amateurs become pros, and where legends are carved into the ice. We had qualified.
The locker room was chaos. Champagne (non-alcoholic for the cameras, real stuff hidden in water bottles) was spraying everywhere. Jax was dancing on a bench wearing nothing but a towel and his helmet. Sully was crying.
I sat in my stall, exhausted, bruised, and happier than I had ever been in my life.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Ivy: I saw the assist! That pass was disgusting (in a good way). I'm outside. Wearing the beanie. And holding a giant sign that says "Marry Me Sterling." (Okay, no sign. But the sentiment stands).
I grinned, typing back.
Me: Give me ten minutes. I have to shower. And hide from Jax before he tries to kiss me.
I put the phone down.
I looked around the room. This was it. We were going to the championship. My knee had held up. The scouts were happy. My dad hadn't called in two days.
And Ivy was waiting for me.
I felt invincible.
One Hour Later
We were in the Jeep, parked at the scenic overlook above Burlington. It was our spot now. Private. Quiet. The city lights twinkled below us like scattered diamonds on black velvet.
The engine was off, but the heat lingered. Ivy was straddling my lap in the driver’s seat—a logistical challenge we had mastered over the last few weeks. Her arms were wrapped around my neck, her face buried in the crook of my shoulder.
"You were amazing tonight," she murmured against my skin. "Seriously. You looked like... a god."
"I looked like a guy who was terrified of losing," I corrected, running my hands up and down her back. "But thanks."
She pulled back to look at me. Her hazel eyes were shining in the dashboard light. She looked happy. But there was something else there too—a shadow I couldn't quite place. She had been quiet lately. A little jumpy.
"What?" I asked, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to memorize my face."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe I am. You're very memorable."
"Is it the scar?"
"It's the scowl. Very distinctive."
She kissed me. It started soft, but quickly turned desperate. She kissed me like she was trying to breathe me in. Her hands gripped my hair, pulling me closer.
"Ivy," I groaned, breaking the kiss. "Easy. We're in a public parking lot. And my knee is stiff."
"Sorry," she whispered, resting her forehead against mine. "I just... I'm really proud of you, Ben. You did it. You proved everyone wrong."
"We did it," I corrected. "I couldn't have done this without you. You kept me sane. You fixed my ankle. You fed me bagels."
"I did feed you bagels," she agreed. "I'm basically the MVP."
"You are."
I shifted, reaching into my pocket. My fingers brushed the small velvet box I had been carrying around for three days.
It wasn't an engagement ring. We were twenty-one. I wasn't insane.
It was a promise ring. Or a "we're serious" ring. It was a simple silver band with a small engraving on the inside: IV. The Roman numeral for 4. My number. And the first two letters of her name.
"Ivy."
"Yeah?"
"I have something for you."
She froze. "Ben. What?"
"Don't panic. It's not... scary."
I pulled the box out. I opened it.
The silver caught the light.
Ivy gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth.
"Ben..."
"It's not an engagement ring," I said quickly. "It's... a marker. It's me saying that I'm not going anywhere. That after the draft, after graduation... I want you there. Wherever I go. Montreal, Chicago, Mars. I want you there."
She stared at the ring. Her eyes filled with tears.
"You want me to go with you?"
"I insist on it. Who else is going to organize my snacks?"
"Ben."
"I love you, Ivy. I know I said it before. But I mean it. You're it for me. You're the endgame."
I took the ring out and took her left hand.
"Will you wear it?"
She looked at the ring. Then she looked at me. A tear slid down her cheek.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. I'll wear it."
I slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
She looked at it, turning her hand in the light. Then she threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. She was crying. Not happy tears. These were jagged, heavy sobs.
"Hey," I rubbed her back, alarmed. "Hey, it's okay. Why are you crying?"
"Because I love you," she choked out. "I love you so much it hurts."
"That's a good thing, right?"
"Yeah," she sniffled. "It's a good thing."
She pulled back, wiping her face. She looked at the ring again.
"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Okay. No more crying. We have to celebrate."
"We are celebrating. We're making out in a Jeep."
"No. Real celebration. The team is going to The Taproom, right?"
"Yeah. But I wasn't going to go. Too loud."
"We should go," she insisted. "You're the Captain. You just won the Regional. You should be with your team. And... I want to show off my ring."
She smiled then, a flash of her old bratty self.
I hesitated. I wanted to stay here, in the dark, with her. But she looked so eager. So desperate to be normal.
"Okay," I agreed. "One drink. Then we come back here and... celebrate properly."
"Deal."
The Taproom was packed.
It was the local college dive bar—sticky floors, neon beer signs, and music loud enough to rattle your fillings.
When we walked in, the place erupted.
"STERLING! STERLING! STERLING!"
My teammates were already there, taking up the back booths. Jax was standing on a table again.
I kept my arm around Ivy’s waist, pulling her through the crowd. I didn't care who saw. I had just given her a ring. We were out.
We reached the booth. Jax jumped down and hugged me.
"Captain! You made it! And you brought the First Lady!"
Ivy laughed. "Hi, Jax. Put your shirt back on."
"Never! Shirts are for losers!"
We squeezed into the booth. Someone handed me a beer. Someone handed Ivy a cider.
The mood was electric. Everyone was high on victory.
I sat with my arm draped over Ivy’s shoulders, my hand playing with the ring on her finger. She leaned into me, looking relaxed for the first time in days.
"So," Fitz yelled over the music. "Montreal, huh? I heard the scout was drooling over that assist."
"Maybe," I shouted back. "We'll see."
"Imagine," Jax said dreamily. "Montreal. Poutine. French girls."
I tightened my grip on Ivy. "I'm good on the girls, thanks."
Jax winked at Ivy. "Clearly. You locked that down. Nice hardware, by the way." He pointed at the ring.
Ivy blushed, hiding her hand. "It's just... a gift."
"Sure. A 'gift.' That looks like a lease agreement to me."
We laughed.
I looked around the table. These were my brothers. This was my girl. We were winning. Life was good.
Then, the music stopped.
Not a fade-out. A hard cut.
Silence descended on the bar.
I frowned. "Did the power go out?"
Then, the TVs mounted on the walls—all twelve of them—changed channels.
Usually, they played ESPN. Now, they were showing a local news broadcast.
A banner scrolled across the bottom: brEAKING NEWS: SENATOR STERLING SCANDAL.
My blood ran cold.
The room went quiet. Everyone turned to look at the screens.
A reporter was standing in front of the Blackstone Athletic Center. She looked serious.
"We are live at Blackstone University, where allegations have surfaced regarding Senator William Sterling and the men's hockey program.
Leaked documents suggest that Senator Sterling has made substantial 'donations' to the university athletic fund in exchange for guaranteed roster spots and playing time for his son, team captain Benjamin Sterling. "
The room gasped.
I froze. My beer slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I didn't hear it.
"Furthermore," the reporter continued, "anonymous sources claim that Captain Sterling has been violating team conduct policies by engaging in an illicit relationship with a student, Ivy St. James, in exchange for academic favors.
Photos have surfaced allegedly showing the pair engaging in sexual acts on campus grounds. "
A photo appeared on the screen.
It was the photo. The one behind the library. Me and Ivy. Clear as day.
The bar was silent. Dead silent.
Every head turned. Every eye fixed on us.
I couldn't breathe.
I looked at the screen. Then I looked at Ivy.
She wasn't looking at the screen. She was looking at her lap. She was pale. Ghostly white. She wasn't surprised.
She knew.
The realization hit me harder than any check.
"Ivy?" I whispered.
She looked up. Her eyes were full of tears.
"Ben... I..."
"Did you know about this?"
"I... Lila told me. She threatened to release it if I didn't drop out of the showcase."
"You knew?" I stood up. The booth scraped loudly. "You knew someone had this photo and you didn't tell me?"
"I was trying to protect you!" she cried, standing up too. "I dropped out of the showcase! I gave up my solo so she wouldn't send it!"
"You dropped out?"
"Yes! To save you!"
"To save me?" I roared. The anger was a physical thing, hot and blinding. "You didn't save me, Ivy! You lied to me! We're a team! We don't keep secrets!"
"I was scared!"
"Scared of what? Of me?"
"Of losing you!"
The crowd was watching. Phones were out. Recording.
Coach Sullivan pushed through the crowd. He looked furious.
"Sterling! St. James! Outside. Now."
I looked at Ivy. She reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
The hurt on her face was devastating. But I couldn't stop. I felt exposed. Betrayed. My dad buying my spot. The photo. The lies.
"Don't touch me," I said coldly.
I walked out of the bar.
I walked past Coach. I walked past the cameras that were suddenly there.
I walked into the night.
My phone buzzed.
Dad: Fix this. Or you're done.
I threw the phone into the street. It shattered.
Just like everything else.
Ivy
I stood in the bar, frozen.
The ring on my finger felt heavy. Like a shackle.
Ben had walked away. He hadn't looked back.
Jax and the team were staring at me. Some with pity. Some with disgust.
"You knew?" Jax asked quietly.
"I... I handled it," I whispered. "I fixed it."
"Doesn't look fixed, Ivy," Jax said, gesturing to the TV where the photo was still burning on the screen. "Looks pretty broken to me."
He turned his back on me.
I was alone.
The Taproom, filled with people, was the loneliest place on earth.
I looked at the door where Ben had vanished.
I lost him, I realized. I tried to save him, and I lost him.
I took off the ring.
I placed it on the sticky table next to Ben’s spilled beer.
And then I walked out the back door, into the cold, dark night.