8. Ethan
8
ETHAN
The cacophony of noise in the locker room fades away as I storm toward Jonathan Reid’s office, my mind racing.
I need to talk to Reid. Now.
I walk briskly into the office, the door slamming behind me with a force that rattles the glass. Reid looks up from his desk, calm as ever, but I can see the flash of annoyance in his eyes.
He knows why I’m here.
“Ethan,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I want off this project,” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep the frustration from boiling over. “Take me off it, now.”
Reid raises an eyebrow. “And why would I do that? Give me a good reason.”
“I don’t want to be roped into whatever the new event manager is up to,” I snap, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I don’t think I can work with her.”
Reid’s expression remains neutral, but there’s a challenge in his eyes. “That’s not a reason, Ethan. That’s an excuse. If you don’t want to be part of this, you need to give me something more plausible.”
I grit my teeth, struggling to find the words. The truth is, I can’t give him a reason that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. For the last two years since I lost David, everyone’s generally left me alone. They’ve given me space, and I’ve been mighty fine with that. But then Holly Bennett walks onto the scene, and suddenly, everything’s different. She’s meddling everywhere, getting into my head, making me feel things I don’t want to feel, do things I don’t want to do.
I’ve got to resist her, and it should start now.
Reid gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Ethan. We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, I drop into the chair, my knee bouncing with pent-up energy. Reid opens a folder on his desk and slides a piece of paper across to me. The headline catches my eye, and I feel my blood run cold.
"Ethan Carter: The Ice King Who Can’t Melt His Heart for the Fans?"
My stomach tightens as I read the first two paragraphs:
"Ethan Carter, the Blizzards star forward, may be a legend on the ice, but off it, he’s nothing short of an enigma. His frosty demeanor and unwillingness to engage with the fans who’ve supported him through thick and thin paint a picture of a man too proud to acknowledge the people who helped build his career. Carter’s talent is undeniable, but his lack of dedication to the fans is glaring—and it begs the question: Is he too entitled to care about anyone but himself?"
My eyes slide down to catch the reporter’s name. Of course, it’s that piece of shit Raymond Blue.
I toss the article back onto Reid’s desk, a bitter taste in my mouth. “I don’t give a damn about what Blue says. He’s been gunning for me ever since David’s death.”
“Then we shouldn’t give him a reason.”
“I don’t care what he writes?—”
Reid leans forward, his gaze sharp. “I know you don’t care, Ethan. But the problem is, everyone else does. Your reputation is just as important as your skill for the team we’re trying to build here at the Blizzards. We need you to show people that you’re not just some cold, inaccessible superstar.”
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “You really think doing some holiday event is going to change that?”
Reid nods. “It’s a start. The fans need to see that you care, that you’re willing to be a part of this community … then Blue’s argument suddenly starts to sound like bullshit. This event could help bridge that gap.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Reid cuts me off. “Is your worry that you don’t know Holly Bennett well?”
Before I can answer, he adds, “Lauren can be assigned as the team’s liaison for the event if that’ll help provide a bridge between Holly and the players, particularly you.”
I snap my mouth shut, knowing I’m not going to win this argument. I don’t like it, but Reid’s right. I need to at least make an effort, even if it’s just to shut people like Raymond Blue up.
And oh, I’d like to shut that bastard up … preferably by swinging my stick straight at his jaw. But that’ll only get me into much more trouble and give him more plausible proof to nail me. And I can’t let the bastard have that.
“Fine,” I mutter, pushing myself up from the chair. “But don’t expect me to be all smiles and handshakes.”
Reid’s lips quirk in a small smile. “A man can at least dream. You’re dismissed.”
I leave his office, my mind still racing. I need to get out of here, to clear my head. As I walk down the hall, I see Lauren leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone. She looks up as I approach, a teasing smile on her lips.
“Hey! How did it go with Reid?” she asks, falling into step beside me.
“How do you think?” I reply, my voice laced with irritation. “He’s making me stay on the project. Apparently, my reputation needs a little ... polishing.”
Lauren chuckles. “Well, he’s not wrong. You’ve got a bit of an icy exterior.”
I shoot her a glare, but she just laughs. “Come on, Ethan, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just a few events. You can handle it.”
“That’s not the point,” I snap. “Holly’s getting too involved in my business. She’s making things complicated.”
Lauren raises an eyebrow. “Complicated?”
I stop walking and turn to face her, my frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get it, Lauren. She’s everywhere. She’s in my house, she’s in my head, and now she’s in my damn job. I don’t need this right now.”
Lauren’s expression softens, and she places a hand on my arm. “Ethan, I know this is hard for you. But maybe this is exactly what you need. Maybe it’s time to let someone in.”
“No!” I shake my head, pulling away from her touch. “You don’t understand. I don’t need this; in fact, I’d love it if she could move out, and I wouldn’t have to see her so often. Every time I let someone in, it ends badly. I can’t afford that kind of distraction.”
Lauren sighs, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You’re not alone, Ethan. You don’t have to go through this alone. Holly’s not trying to make things harder for you. She’s trying to help.”
I scoff, my chest tightening. “Help? I don’t need help. I’ve been fine on my own.”
“Have you?” Lauren asks gently, her gaze piercing through the walls I’ve built around myself.
I don’t answer, my throat tightening with emotion I’m not ready to confront. Instead, I turn and start walking again, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
Lauren follows, her voice soft but firm. “Ethan, you’ve been through hell. No one’s denying that. But you’re still here, and you’re still standing. Maybe it’s time to stop surviving and start living.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I pause, my heart racing. She’s right, but I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to face the reality that I’ve been running from.
“Living, huh?” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
“Yeah,” Lauren says, her voice filled with a warmth that’s both comforting and challenging. “Living.”
I take a deep breath, my mind spinning. Holly’s face flashes in my mind, the way she looked at me this morning, the way she challenged me without even trying. There’s something about her that draws me in, something I can’t shake.
But that’s exactly why she’s dangerous. She’s the kind of distraction that could unravel everything I’ve worked so hard to build. And yet, I can’t bring myself to push her away.
“Think about it, Ethan,” Lauren says, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just think about it.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. We walk in silence for a few more moments before we reach the locker room. I pause at the door, my hand resting on the handle.
“Thanks, Lauren,” I say quietly, not meeting her eyes.
She gives me a small smile. “Anytime, Ethan.”
I push open the door and step inside; the locker room is cleaned out with the guys gone. The smell of disinfectant fills my senses. Good. I need some private time. I head to my locker, my mind still a whirlwind of thoughts.
As I change back into my gear, I need to get my mind to focus on the game, not Holly’s face, not her sweet tingling voice, or her sexy soft laughter, or the way she looked at me with those damn eyes that seem to see right through me.
A lone workout on the ice should give me some perspective. I slam my locker shut, trying to shake the thoughts away. The plan is simple — workout, push her out of my mind, and get back to what I know—hockey, the ice, the game.
Holly Bennett is in my life, whether I like it or not. Every day, no matter how much I fight it, she seems to take up more space in my mind. It’s infuriating, and yet it’s something else too, something I still can’t fully figure out.
So I use the only reliable way I know to get things off my mind. I head out to the rink, the cold air hitting me like a shock to the system. I take a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the ice ground me. This is where I belong, where I’m in control.
But even as I skate out onto the ice, I can’t escape the nagging thought in the back of my mind.
Everyone keeps telling me maybe it’s time to stop surviving and start living. But living means risking everything. It means opening myself up, stepping away from the pain and loss of David, and trying to go again.
And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. I’m not sure I deserve that.
And that’s why I must stay away from Holly Bennett. She has already started to change something in me, making me laugh more, feel more … but I know it doesn’t last. Everyone eventually uses you for their own benefit, even family. Opening up to her means I risk getting extremely hurt when I find out I’m just a variable she needs for the moment.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.
I’m in the middle of a drill when I catch sight of something—or rather, someone—storming through practice toward me. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but when I blink, she’s still there. Holly, her auburn hair flying wildly around her face, eyes blazing with a fury that looks almost frightening.
She’s marching straight for me, and there’s no mistaking the anger radiating off her.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself, pausing mid-movement on the ice, trying to process what I’m seeing.
A few staff members around the ice notice her, too, their eyes darting between us as they start to slow down. I can feel their curiosity, the unspoken questions hovering in the air. But right now, I can only focus on Holly and the storm she’s bringing with her.
She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me, her chest heaving as she glares at me. “You coward!” she spits out, her voice trembling with rage. “I heard you’d rather I walk out of your life after last night, yeah?”
The words hit me like a slap to the face. I glance around, aware of the eyes on us, but Holly doesn’t seem to care. She’s too wrapped up in whatever has set her off, and I realize we can’t have this conversation here.
Without a word, I grab her by the arm, dragging her toward the locker room. “Come on,” I growl, leading her off the ice. She doesn’t resist, but I can feel the tension thrumming through her.
When we reach the locker room, a couple of cleaners are finishing up. “Can you give us a minute?” I ask them, trying to keep my tone calm despite the storm brewing inside me.
The cleaners exchange a look before nodding and leaving, closing the door behind them. The second we’re alone, Holly wrenches her arm free from my grip, rounding on me with fire in her eyes.
“What the hell is your problem, Ethan?” she demands, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.
“My problem?” I snap back, the frustration I’ve been holding in all day finally bubbling over. “You’re the one storming into practice like a damn hurricane, calling me a coward!”
“Because you are!” she shoots back, stepping closer until she’s right in my face. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re too scared to deal with what happened between us!”
I glare down at her, my chest heaving. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” she challenges, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, Ethan. You won’t even look me in the eye. And now you’re trying to get yourself pulled from the project? What the hell is that about?”
“I didn’t ask to be part of your project, Holly!” I fire back. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”
“And I didn’t ask to be dragged into your mess either!” she shouts, her voice cracking with emotion. “But here we are, Ethan! Here we are, and you’re acting like I’m some kind of burden in your life!”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “That’s not what this is,” I say, my voice lower now, the anger giving way to something more complicated.
“Then what is it?” she demands, her eyes searching mine, desperate for an answer. “Because I’m done with men like you pushing me away, only to pull me back in when it suits you.”
Men like me? Just how much did this Jake guy ruin her self-confidence?
I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words, but they won’t come. The truth is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to explain the push and pull, the way I’m drawn to her even when I’m trying to keep her at arm’s length.
“Holly...” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, Ethan. You don’t get to play this game with me,” she says, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “I asked for time this morning, but now I want you to tell me. You either let me in or you let me go.”
I feel a surge of frustration, not just with her, but with myself. “It’s not that simple,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
“It is that simple!” she insists, stepping even closer, her face inches from mine. “You’re the one making it complicated!”
My breath catches, and before I can stop myself, I reach out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against me. “You drive me crazy. You know that?” I say, my voice rough with frustration and something else, something I don’t want to name.
“Good,” she snaps back, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Because you’re driving me crazy, too.”
The next thing I know, our lips crash together, the argument forgotten as we’re consumed by the heat of the moment. I kiss her hard, pouring all of my pent-up frustration and desire into the kiss. She responds just as fiercely, her hands fisting in my hair, pulling me closer.
I push her against the wall, the cold tiles pressing against her back as our mouths move together, hungry and desperate. My hands roam her body, tracing the curves I’ve memorized in the dark, feeling the warmth of her skin through her clothes. Her nails dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in her, in the heat and the intensity of the moment.
We break apart just long enough to catch our breath, and then I’m kissing her again, harder this time, needing to feel her, needing to lose myself in her. She moans against my mouth, her body arching into mine, and it’s everything I can do not to tear her clothes off right then and there.
But then, just as quickly as it started, the moment is shattered by the sound of a door opening.
“Is everything okay in here?” Lauren’s voice rings out, concern lacing her words.
We freeze, our breaths coming in ragged gasps as we pull apart. Holly’s face is flushed, her lips swollen from our kiss, and I’m sure I don’t look much better. For a moment, we just stand there, staring at each other, the weight of what just happened settling between us.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse. “Everything’s fine.”
Lauren raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue. “Okay ... I’m glad you two haven’t killed each other. I’ll be outside.”
She leaves, and the door clicks shut behind her, leaving Holly and me alone again. But the moment is gone, the tension that was there before replaced by an awkward, charged silence.
Holly pulls away from me, her eyes avoiding mine as she straightens her clothes. “I should go,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s so much I want to say, but the words won’t come. I watch as she turns and walks out of the locker room, her shoulders tense, her steps hurried.
As the door closes behind her, I feel a wave of frustration and anger wash over me. Not just at her, but at myself. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, shouldn’t be so damn wrapped up in someone else’s life.
I’m in trouble. I can’t seem to stop thinking about her, can’t seem to stop wanting her. And that scares the hell out of me.
I punch the wall, the pain barely registering as I try to get a grip on the emotions swirling inside me. I’ve spent years building walls around myself, keeping people out, and now, with Holly, those walls are starting to crack.
And I don’t know how to stop it.
I don’t know if I want to.