Chapter Three
Cooper
I got home after two and kicked my boots off near the door. The house was quiet. Kade’s and Owen’s trucks were parked outside. Talon wasn’t here, but I’m guessing he either took Wren back to her dorm or the two will follow me through the door before long.
I don’t have to be up early tomorrow. Practice isn’t until nine, so I can sleep in a little.
Still, sleeping wasn’t happening anytime soon.
My mind keeps circling back to the bar—to the girl I recognized from practice the day before.
It took me a second to place her, to figure out where I’d seen her. When Sasha walked past our table, I stopped her and asked for the girl’s name.
Brinley.
Turns out it was her first night too.
So when I overheard that dipshit giving her a hard time, I didn’t hesitate to step in. Not because I was trying to play hero, but because I’ll never be the kind of guy who stands by while a man talks to a woman that way.
I tried not to overthink it. Instead, I did what I always do when I need to shut my mind off.
I turned on my Xbox.
The game booted up, and I scrolled through my friends list, checking to see who was online at this hour. There were only a couple on, considering how early it was in the morning. That wasn’t what surprised me.
It was the one name that caught my attention. The same one that’s been offline for the past week.
I scroll down and click on CerealKilla’s profile.
Last online: 9 days ago.
I frown. It wasn’t unlike her to disappear for a few days, but never for this much time.
For as long as we played together, she was usually online late at night. Sometimes random afternoons. We didn’t always chat while we played, but we had grown closer over the past year.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed her absence until now.
We didn’t really exchange messages, not since that first night when she cleaned house and pissed off a bunch of the guys I play with. We mostly just chatted over our headsets. It was easier as we played anyway.
I hovered over the message option longer than necessary before I clicked on the window.
You good? didn’t feel right.
I typed and erased, then tried again.
Me: Haven’t seen you online in a bit. You good?
I stared at the screen for a second before hitting send. I waited for it to show as delivered, then waited another minute, like I was waiting for her to magically log on and for it to change to read.
I backed out of her profile and queued up a match, trying to shake off the feeling twisting in my chest. It’s stupid to read into it. People disappear all the time. Life happens, and gaming takes a back seat.
Still, as the loading screen spun, my eyes kept drifting back to my notifications. Waiting for her reply.
And for the first time in a while, gaming didn’t do a damn thing to quiet my thoughts.
***
The guys are already awake by the time I drag myself downstairs the next morning.
Their usual chaos hums around me like background noise I don’t bother fighting.
Kade stands at the coffee maker, slamming his hand against the top like it might take the hint and start working.
Owen is planted at his usual spot at the table, protein drink in front of him, phone in hand.
Probably checking scores from last night’s games, because of course he is.
The side door from the garage slams shut, and I glance up to see Talon stalk inside. His hair’s a mess, hoodie still caught around his shoulders as he finishes tugging it on.
“Where the hell did you take off to last night?” Kade asks, finally getting coffee and turning to lean his hip against the counter.
I freeze for half a second too long when I realize he’s talking to me and not Talon.
“Good morning to you too,” I say, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
Kade lifts a brow, coffee steaming in his hand. “I thought you were leaving with us. You weren’t behind us when we got home.”
Owen looks up from his phone. “Yeah. I heard you come in after two. Figured maybe you’d doubled back for something, but that doesn’t really explain the late-night disappearance.”
“I didn’t forget anything,” I say, pouring coffee.
Talon still hasn’t said a word. He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like he’s already connected dots I’m pretending aren’t there.
I hesitate, not sure how the hell to explain why I stayed—why leaving before I made sure she was okay hadn’t felt like an option.
When he finally pushes off, his voice is calm but pointed.
“You stayed at the bar,” he says. “You don’t bail on the guys. And you don’t go picking fights with random pricks either. Not when you’ve got scouts sniffing around and a season you can’t afford to screw up.”
That lands closer to the truth than I’d like.
Kade tilts his head. “This have anything to do with the girl you kept watching?”
The room goes quiet. “I wasn’t watching her,” I say.
Kade laughs. “You hovered like you were her personal bouncer. I saw you tense up when that asshole started giving her shit about his tab.”
I hadn’t realized how much they’d clocked.
“She was new,” I say instead.
“And?” Talon presses.
“And that’s it.” I shrug. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if it were Tatum.”
Talon studies me, eyes sharp. “Tatum’s my sister. I’ve seen you lose it when people are assholes to Atlee, but this was different. You don’t usually get this protective over someone you don’t even know.”
I don’t answer right away.
Because that’s the part I don’t have an explanation for yet. Talon and I are wired the same when it comes to our sisters. But he’s right. I have too much riding on this season to start something with some prick over a girl I didn’t know, especially when she was handling it herself.
Owen stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Whatever it was,” he says, “you didn’t sleep.”
“No kidding,” Kade adds. “You look like hell.”
“Appreciate the support,” I say flatly.
Talon grabs his keys, pausing by the door. “Just don’t do anything that puts this season or your career at risk.”
I meet his gaze. “I’m not stupid, but thanks.”
He holds my eyes for a beat longer, then nods once and heads out. Kade grabs his duffel and follows, the door slamming shut behind them.
I don’t bother with small talk as I finish my coffee and grab my gear, already mentally shifting into practice mode. Owen’s footsteps trail me a moment later, but neither of us says anything.
By the time we pile into my truck and pull up to the arena, the sky is still pale, the sun just starting to creep over the horizon. Inside, the cold hits me square in the face, and I welcome it. I need something more than my earlier coffee to wake me up before I step onto the ice.
I go through the routine without thinking, strapping on my pads, taping my fingers, and letting muscle memory take over. When I finally step onto the rink, the quiet hum of the empty arena settles something in my chest.
My skates carve clean lines as I stretch. For a few minutes, it’s just me and the cold ice.
And that’s exactly what I need.
I’m circling the zone when movement in the stands behind the net catches my eye.
At first, I ignore it. Someone always wanders between the coaching staff and our trainers. But then the light hits just right, and I see her.
Light blond hair, loose strands framing her face.
It stands out against the gray of the empty seats, almost glowing under the arena lights. I find myself tilting my head, my gaze locking in on Brinley.
She looks down at the ice, and our eyes meet.
Seeing her again hits like a cross-check. I slow without realizing it, skates gliding as I stare up into eyes I recognize, even if I don’t want to admit it yet.
She’s sitting near the top, tucked in on herself like she’s trying not to draw attention. I can’t make out her expression from the ice, but the way she holds herself makes me wonder why she’s here so early, alone in the stands.
“Earth to Rowdy.”
I blink and nearly eat it when a puck skids past my blade.
Owen skates by, a smirk firmly in place. “You planning to join practice or you waiting for Coach to light your ass on fire for not paying attention?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, pushing off again.
Talon glides past slowly. His eyes track where mine were for half a second too long before he looks back at me.
One brow lifts.
“That her?” he asks.
I don’t answer fast enough.
Kade coasts over, already frowning. “Why would she be here and this early at that?”
“Why the hell are you looking at me like I know?” I snap. “She’s not here for me.”
Talon snorts as he glides past. “Didn’t say she was.”
Owen stops beside me, eyes flicking briefly toward the stands before returning to me. “Then why’s she sitting through warm-ups instead of sleeping in before class like a normal person?”
I miss the next shot. The puck slides wide of the post.
“Jesus,” Talon mutters. “You’re killing me today.”
I reset, settling back into my stance. “Maybe she likes hockey.”
“On a Friday morning?” Kade asks, circling back. “After working a bar until close?”
“That’s not impossible,” I shoot back.
“No,” Talon says evenly. “But it’s not exactly normal either.”
That hits me harder than it should.
We move through the next drill and the next. I force myself to lock in, but everything feels a beat off. I’m late getting set, and every save comes a fraction behind where it should be.
I glance up again despite myself.
She’s still there. Not checking or scrolling on her phone. Not waiting for anyone else. Just watching practice like it matters.
That’s what gets me.
The guys are right. People don’t sit in on practice for no reason.
Kade coasts by again, voice low. “If she’s not here to talk to you, what other reason would she have to sit in on practice?”
“Why are you asking me? I don’t know much about her, apart from her name—Brinley,” I say. “Sasha mentioned it was her first night. Some guy was being a dick, so I stepped in. That’s it.”
Kade’s brows lift for half a second.
Talon hums quietly, clearly unconvinced.
When we finally wrap up, I don’t rush off the ice like usual. It’s just a couple of guys stretching now and me. Coach is still out here, talking to Kade, and I catch Kade’s gaze flicking toward me like he knows exactly why I’m lingering.
By the time I skate off, I’ve already decided what to do.
I pretend I’m not stealing one last look as I head for the locker room, already deciding I’ll shower and come back out to talk to her.
The locker room fills with steam and noise—guys chirping, laughter bouncing off the walls—but my head is still out on the ice. I strip out of my gear, shower fast, tug on a hoodie and jeans, and lace my shoes quicker than usual.
Talon clocks it. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just got somewhere I need to be.”
He nods and lets it go.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out, tension coiling in my chest. I already know what I’ll say if she’s still there.
Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything okay?
Not asking why she was here or bringing up last night. Nothing that might send her walls shooting up.
I take the stairs two at a time into the stands. I stop short, momentum cutting off so abruptly it almost makes me laugh.
Her seat is empty. The section has cleared out, nothing left but rows of gray seats and an arena that somehow feels emptier without her there.
I stand there for a couple minutes, hands shoved into my pockets, staring at the spot where she’d been sitting, like it might offer some kind of explanation if I give it enough time.
I exhale slowly and turn toward the exit, telling myself it doesn’t mean anything.
But as I step outside into the gloomy, rainy morning, one thought refuses to let go.
Whatever she came here looking for, I don’t think it had anything to do with hockey—and I certainly don’t think it has anything to do with me.