Chapter Twelve Skye
Chapter Twelve
Skye
The winter house smells like sweat, takeout, and victory.
My team is way too loud for this hour, but no one’s about to tell them to calm down.
Not after the win we just had. Sticks are propped by the door, gloves litter the room, and someone’s blasting music from a tiny speaker in the kitchen.
Paige is reenacting her glove save in slow motion for the tenth time, and every replay gets more dramatic. Just like Paige.
I can’t say I hate it. It was pretty epic.
We’re heading into the quarterfinals.
I should be in full captain mode. Hydration, rest, and recovery type speeches for the ladies. Instead, I’m sitting in the corner of the couch, Dr. Pepper Zero in hand, staring at absolutely nothing.
All because I can still feel her lips on mine.
I hate that our first kiss was a drive-by, but I had to do it. I had to know what her lips tasted like.
I’ve never been so feral when it comes to women before. Whatever spell Violet has on me, I don’t ever want it to wear off.
It was fast. Only a few seconds. Standing in the arena where everyone could see us, pressed against the wall with the Olympic logo painted on it like we were some kind of sports advertisement. She’d looked at me like I hung the moon instead of just winning the last preliminary game.
I’d planned on saying something cool or smart. Instead, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. All that time, wondering if she’d blow me off because I wasn’t sure if a woman would give her the same thrill as a man, and now I know.
Men can fuck right off. I want this woman.
My phone vibrates once in my pocket. When I pull it out to look at the screen, I stifle a laugh at the sight of a message from Violet with nothing but question marks.
Now is not the time to bring up the contract I made for her. Hopefully, tonight, if we talk.
A logical part of my brain, the coach, the strategist, is raising an alarm.
This is rushed. You don’t hand someone a blueprint for your darkest desires this early in the plan. You build walls first, then doors.
But that voice is drowned out by the reality of the moment. I’m in Milan. The city is a buffer zone thousands of miles from my local grocery store, my regular gym, and the familiar faces that know me outside of hockey. Here, the consequences feel contained.
An experiment far from my real life.
Violet looks at me not with the respect of a teammate or the blank admiration of a fan, but with curiosity that mirrors my own. She’s a variable I can’t predict, but a risk that feels calculated.
I want to see if my theory holds.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and try to think about something else.
It lasts half a second.
I’d love to see Violet bound to my bed with a silk wrap over her eyes. I want to touch every inch of her body to see how she reacts. Learn if she can follow commands while I push her patience to the absolute limits.
My fantasy is interrupted as Rissa launches herself onto the couch and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Captain Clutch,” she yells, shaking me. “Earth to hero.”
I force a smile, hoping the heat in my face isn’t obvious. “Hydrate or die, Rissa.”
They’re all buzzing, already talking matchups, plays we can work on cleaning up, who we might face next. The TV flashes highlights from our game, and every time my last goal plays, the room erupts again.
My head is still floating somewhere else as I watch myself on screen.
Violet is colorful, fearless, and absolutely not part of my five-year plan. I’ve built my whole life around discipline. Being steady and unshakable. Until Alisha, of course. My team looks to me when things get tough. I don’t get distracted. I don’t get reckless.
Kissing her felt reckless. But it also felt like breathing for the first time since we got here.
Laughter explodes from the kitchen as someone drops a plate. Music changes. Someone chants about gold medals. I look around at my team, and my pride swells in my chest so hard that it almost hurts.
I’ll never show emotion for these girls, or in front of them. But I can’t deny that I feel it.
Quarterfinals.
One step closer to everything we’ve worked for. And somehow, in the middle of it, I’ve let someone slip past my defenses.
I press my thumb to my bottom lip without thinking. If this is what getting checked by Violet feels like, I’m not sure I want to skate away.
My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I grab it, hoping it’s not Violet wanting to discuss the things on that piece of paper.
My face falls when I see that it’s the nurse from Keisha’s care facility. Panic rises in my chest at the thought of something being wrong when I’m so far away.
I slip off the couch and head into the hallway, the noise fading behind me as I glance at the screen.
Willow Creek Care Facility.
I answer before it rings a third time. “This is Skye.”
The nurse’s voice is warm and familiar. “Hi, honey. I just wanted to give you a quick update on your aunt.”
I brace myself even though her tone doesn’t sound like it’s filled with bad news. You learn to brace yourself, anyway.
“She’s having a really good day.”
I feel my shoulders sag.
“She remembered your name this morning. And she’s been telling everyone her niece is going to win the gold medal.”
All the air leaves my lungs in a shaky laugh, and my head hangs, letting my braid fall over my chest.
“She did?” The squeak in my voice is apparent, but I don’t care. Keisha is having a good day, and that’s the best news I can get.
“She did,” she reassures me. “She wouldn’t stop talking about you. I know you’re over in Milan being a big shot right now, but I thought you’d want to know.”
I lean my forehead against the wall, eyes closing. For a second, I’m not team captain, I’m not an Olympian, I’m not the girl with too much responsibility stitched into her jersey.
I’m just a niece.
“Thank you,” I say, slow enough that I mean it and feel it with everything in me. “Thank you for calling me.”
“Anytime, Skye.” Her tone gets flirty, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
I’ve always given hints that I find her attractive. I mean, she definitely is. But now there’s no way I’d look at another female. Not with Violet’s smile burned into my memory and the taste of her kiss still lingering on my lips.
I end the call without saying anything else, and my chest feels lighter. Not fixed, not perfect, but lighter.
I walk back into the chaos of the living room, still vibrating with the good news about Keisha.
Apparently, I’m smiling like an idiot because the moment I sit down, Paige squints at me from the floor. Her brown hair is swirling over her sweaty face as she breathes heavily, probably on her fifteenth reenactment of the save.
“Oh, my God.” She dramatically points at my face. “Look at her.”
“Look at who?” I deadpan.
“You, Cappy. You look disgustingly happy. Was that your new boo?”
The entire room goes silent for a half second.
Then I hear, “New boo?!” being screeched from the kitchen.
I feel heat crawl up the back of my neck.
“It was the nurse at my aunt’s care facility.” I grab a towel and toss it at Paige’s head. “Keisha is having a good day and is telling everyone her niece is going for gold in the Olympics.”
The energy in the room shifts. Not heavy, but softer. A few of the girls smile at me, and Rissa comes over, sits beside me, and squeezes my shoulder.
“That’s awesome, Skye.” She gives me her best serious face. Even in bad times, she struggles not to make smart-ass comments, but I can tell she’s really trying. And the look in her eyes tells me she’s genuinely happy that Keisha is having a good day.
Paige, noting my discomfort with the vibe in the room, gets to her feet. “Okay, fine. But you were smiling before you picked up the phone.”
I shoot her a look.
She wiggles her eyebrows at me and takes a step away so she’s not in swinging distance. “Just saying. You’re glowing. And it’s not just the quarterfinal radiance.”
Laughter ripples through the room again, the music turns back up, the chaos resuming.
I hear the squeak of the entire team as I jump from the couch and rip after Paige. She darts out of the way and takes off down the hall. If I catch her, I’m going to leave a bigger bruise than I did with the whole Cappy fiasco.
I try, and fail, not to smile again.
Yeah.
Maybe I am glowing.