Page 74 of Icy Pucking Play

I let us lay there together, tangled in each other, in my sheets, his heartbeat finally slowing under my cheek.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"For what?"

"For...tonight. For what Julia said..." He stops, tenses. "For everything."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Don't I?" His snort is short, the sound sharp. “I ruined a perfectly good dinner because I can't handle hearing my ex-wife's name."

"You didn't ruin anything." I kick-stand an elbow on the mattress to look at him. "Your family understands."

"Do they?" He won't meet my eyes. "Do you?"

"I'm trying to."

He's quiet for so long I think he might have fallen asleep.

"I should go," he says finally.

"Stay."

"I can't." He sits up, already pulling away. "Early practice."

"Evan…"

“What’d I say about overthinking?” He kisses my lips sweetly, and flashes me a rare smile. “Leave that to my complicated ass. I promise…I’ll see you tomorrow."

He dresses quickly, efficiently. Like he can't wait to escape. Like the memories are so hot-to-the-touch he can’t bear to reach for them.

"Text me when you get home?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

He pauses at the door. "Yeah."

But we both know he won't.

I lay awake for hours, replaying the evening. The perfect family dinner. The way they included me so easily. The moment it all fell apart...

I stare at the messages until sunrise, when another text comes through.

Evan:Had to hit the ice early. See you later.

Professional. Distant. Ice Man restored.

I curl around my pillow, breathing in his lingering scent on my sheets.

Because that's the thing about ice—it's beautiful, strong, capable of supporting incredible things.

But it can also crack. It can also make you slip and fall when you least expect it.

Chapter 19

Evan

"Your head's not in this today, old man."

I barely catch the puck Ryland fires at my glove side. It’s more luck than skill. He's right—I'm distracted, sloppy. Have been all week since that last night in Sophie's apartment.

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