Chapter 20 - Bryce
Chapter twenty
Bryce
“Blackhorn, stop looking at the glass like you’re trying to telepathically undress someone and finish your damn warmup.”
Dex’s chirp ricochets across the ice just as my skate blade almost catches an edge. Almost. Because Annabelle Hacker is sitting behind our bench, bundled in a black coat, hair shining under the arena lights, smiling at something Gabriel’s daughter just handed her.
My entire ribcage tries to exit my body.
I force my focus back to the puck. Miss it by two inches.
Eli howls. “HE’S DOWN BAD. GET A CAMERA ON HIM. DOCUMENT THIS FOR SCIENCE.”
I flip him off. The crowd cheers. Nashville loves a good hostile gesture.
Annabelle laughs behind the glass, and I swear the temperature of this entire building spikes ten degrees.
We head to the bench as warmups end. I try…TRY… not to look at her again.
I fail instantly.
***
The first period starts with me playing like I downed six shots of espresso and chased it with adrenaline. Every time I step on the ice, I know exactly where she is. I feel her. That’s not a normal thing to admit, but screw normal. My life derailed the second she started "following" me around.
I win the first faceoff clean. Rip the puck to Dex. He sends it back. I drive forward, shoulders tight, stick ready.
Shot.
Block.
Rebound.
Another shot.
Missed, but close enough to make the goalie swear.
I hear something behind the bench.
Annabelle’s voice.
“YES, brYCE!”
My soul leaves my body.
I check a guy so hard his helmet nearly spins. The ref glares at me, but even he’s grinning.
The entire bench turns around to stare at her. And me.
Coach snaps, “Eyes forward, gentlemen! We’re not hosting a meet-and-greet!”
During a line change, Colby skates closer to me. “Bro. She cheered for you like you were scoring in her bedroom.”
I choke. “Shut up.”
He cackles.
***
Midway through the second during a TV time out, something clatters behind the bench. Annabelle drops her phone. Every single one of us turns like synchronized idiots, me included.
She waves apologetically. Her face is pink.
I stand up.
Actually stand.
Coach grabs my jersey so hard I almost face-plant. “SIT DOWN, CASANOVA.”
The crowd screams with laughter as somehow this scene is on the arena’s big screen.
I mutter, “Just checking she’s okay.”
“We are not losing you to chivalry. SIT.”
***
Back on the ice, opposing players start chirping as expected.
“Who’s the girl, Blackhorn?”
“You skating for her tonight?”
“Blink twice if you’re whipped.”
Dex yells back, “He’s not blinking. He doesn’t have the brain cells to multitask!”
I line the loudest guy up on the next shift and send him into the boards so hard the entire arena winces.
Annabelle gasps behind the bench.
I glance back, just once.
She smiles.
A clean, perfect hit.
My chest pounds like it’s trying to break out.
***
Game’s intense. Third period. Tie game. Two minutes left.
Faceoff in the offensive zone.
I look to Annabelle. She’s leaning forward, hands pressed to the railing, eyes locked on me like she’s praying I don’t screw this up.
I tap my stick to the boards. Our little signal.
Her lips part.
Colby wins the face off and passes the puck to me. I send it to Dex. Dex gets it to Mills. Mills fires. Rebound kicks out.
I’m already there.
I shoot.
Net. Top corner.
Crowd goes insane.
I skate straight to the glass. To her.
I tap my stick to her hand on the glass.
Her mouth forms a shocked, breathless oh.
My heartbeat tries to sprint laps.
The guys surround me instantly.
“He did it for LOVE!” Colby shouts.
“GET A ROOM!” Eli adds.
“Not in the locker room,” Gabriel warns. “Some of us have kids.”
Coach mutters, “Jesus Christ,” but he’s smiling.
We win.
And the only thing I can think of is her.
***
After the game, I shower so fast I’m probably still half-covered in soap. I yank on my suit, push my hair back, breathe once, fail to breathe normally, and head for the hallway.
She’s there.
Waiting.
Annabelle Hacker looks like every good thing I’ve ever wanted and half the things I never thought I’d deserve.
I walk straight to her.
She opens her mouth, maybe to tease me, maybe to congratulate me, but I grab her waist, pull her in, and kiss her.
Slow.
Deep.
Real.
The kind of kiss that feels like claiming something that was always meant to be mine.
She melts against me.
Footsteps and loud voices echo down the hallway. Great. Here comes trouble.
Dex rounds the corner first, followed by Eli, Colby, Gabriel, and Bobby. They're all suited up, looking like a pack of overgrown golden retrievers who figured out how to dress themselves for once.
Dex takes one look at us and clutches his chest dramatically. “OH MY GOD. THEY’RE KISSING IN THE WILD. SOMEONE CALL NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.”
Eli whistles. “Look at this, high schoolers making out in the hallway.”
Dex smirks and adds, “Looks like our brilliant plan worked, huh?”
Gabriel smirks at Annabelle. “So, you approve of our little… concert?”
Annabelle steps back slightly, cheeks warm but smiling. “Approve? I’m still trying to process it. I mean, your TV debut? Legendary. Terrifying. Possibly illegal.”
Colby beams. “We rehearsed for almost nine minutes.”
“That… explains a lot,” she says.
They laugh and fist bump each other.
Annabelle softens then, lifting her chin. “Seriously. Thank you. All of you. You didn’t have to do any of that for me.”
The guys go quiet.
Dex shrugs. “Yeah, we did.”
Eli nods. “You’re our girl. And Blackhorn here is dumber than a bag of pucks when he’s in his feelings, so someone had to intervene.”
Bobby pats my shoulder. “We’ve got your back. And hers.”
Annabelle’s eyes shine a little. She laughs it off, but we all see it.
Gabriel clears his throat. “Alright, idiots, let’s go. Give these two some privacy before Coach finds us and makes us run laps.”
Dex salutes us both. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do. Which means… you’re pretty much free to do anything.”
They scatter, still chirping down the hallway as they go.
I shake my head. “I hate them.”
Annabelle smiles up at me. “You absolutely don’t.”
I murmur against her mouth, “Ready for the part where you don’t make plans?”
She nods into my chest. I swear my heart almost malfunctions.
***
The elevator ride is quiet in the hungriest, loudest way possible.
She keeps glancing at me.
I keep pretending I don’t notice.
Her fingers brush mine.
I take her hand.
She squeezes once.
I decide I am never letting go.
The elevator doors open to my penthouse, and the moment she steps inside, her breath catches.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
City lights spread like a glittering ocean below us.
She whispers, “Bryce, this is beautiful.”
I shrug, trying not to look like I’m dying inside. “Come here.”
I lead her to the balcony. Cold air, soft city sounds, nothing but us and the glow of downtown.
She shivers.
I take off my suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
“It smells like you,” she says.
“Good,” I answer.
Her cheeks flush.
She steps to the railing. “I love this.”
“It’s my spot,” I admit. “After games. After wins. After… shit days.”
“Why bring me here?” she asks softly.
I meet her eyes. “Because you make all of it make sense.”
She looks up at me with those big beautiful brown eyes.
I clear my throat, grab the champagne from inside, and attempt to open it smoothly.
Attempt.
The cork shoots across the balcony like a missile.
The champagne geysers up, sprays my shirt, hits me in the face.
Annabelle bends over laughing, absolutely done.
I wipe my face with my sleeve. “I meant to do that.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“Respectfully, shut up.”
She’s still laughing when I reach out and swipe a droplet off her cheek with my thumb.
She goes silent.
Heat rolls between us.
“This whole night,” I say quietly, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I played like someone lit my ass on fire.”
She smiles. “You played incredibly.”
“I played for you,” I say, voice low. “Every shift. Every shot. Every stupid chirp.”
Her eyes soften. “Bryce…”
I cup her jaw. My thumb traces her lower lip.
She presses into my hand.
I lean in. Not kissing her. Not yet. Just letting my forehead rest against hers.
“Tell me you’re here,” I whisper.
“I’m here,” she breathes.
I exhale slowly, forehead still pressed to hers. “I talk to my mom out here,” I say quietly. “Not in a weird way. Just… when shit gets loud. When I need someone to tell me to get over myself.”
Her fingers slide lightly along the back of my neck, and I swear my pulse jumps. “Bryce…”
“I’ve never brought a woman out here,” I tell her. “Ever. Nobody gets this spot. Nobody gets the quiet. Nobody gets… this side of me.”
She swallows, eyes soft. “So why me?”
“Because I couldn’t wait,” I admit. “Couldn’t wait to see you standing here. Couldn’t wait to show you the one place that actually shuts my brain up.”
She lets out a breathy little laugh. “And here I thought you just wanted to impress me with the view.”
“Oh, I do,” I say, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “The view’s insane. But you’re better.”
She blushes, nudges my chest with her nose. “Smooth, Blackhorn.”
I lift the champagne bottle and pour two glasses. “We toasting, or are you gonna mock me for my bottle-opening skills again?”
She grins, taking her glass. “I’ll mock you and toast you. I’m versatile.”
I bark out a laugh. “Jesus. Dangerous woman.”
She lifts her glass toward me. “To winning the game.”
I clink it lightly. “To you being there.”
She rolls her eyes, smiling. “To not making plans.”
I smirk. “And to me making damn sure you never want to.”
We clink our glasses again, then drift to the lounge chairs tucked against the far side of the balcony. String lights run along the railing, warm and soft, brushing her skin in gold. The city hums below us like background music.
I duck inside for a second and come back with a tray of chocolate-covered fruit. Annabelle’s eyebrows lift.
“Since when do you own anything that isn’t protein powder or beer?”
“Since this morning when the woman behind the counter told me these were a good aphrodisiac,” I say, setting the tray down.
She laughs, picks up a chocolate strawberry, and holds it out. “Open.”
I obey. Because apparently that’s who I am now. The strawberry melts in my mouth. She watches me too closely.
“My turn,” I murmur, feeding her one. Her lips close around it slowly, cheeks warming.
She settles beside me, legs brushing mine. “This is… really nice.”
“Nice?” I tease. “Careful. I might get a big head.”
“You already have one,” she fires back, smiling.
I chuckle, sliding my hand over her thigh. “Say something I don’t know.”
She looks at me for a long moment, eyes soft, voice dipping low. “Fine. Here’s something… these chocolate-covered fruits are delicious, but you in that suit? Absolutely scrumptious.”
That’s all I need.
I scoop her up. She wraps her legs around me, fingers gripping my shoulders.
I carry her inside.
She laughs, breathless. “Where are we going?”
“To make not making plans worth your time.”