Page 47 of Iced Out

“So it was for them, not for you?”

“It was still for me, because it’sinme. I’ve built my career on being the teammate who picks up everyone else, to put our success as a whole above my own.” I shake my head. “It sounds stupid—”

“It doesn’t,” he says, cutting in. When I meet his gaze, I find honesty in it. “I swear, it doesn’t.”

His understanding keeps me talking, diving in a little deeper.

“I just want to build on it, I guess. I don’t want to keep being the son of Travis Reed or the nephew of Trevor Reed. I want to make my own name, put my mark on the league as Oakley Reed, badass hockey player. With whatever accolades and titles I earn on my own.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead, and it puts me on edge.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.” He licks his lips, clearly piecing together what he wants to say in his head first. Something I’ve noticed him do a lot more lately, and I think it’s to keep from saying something that’ll irritate me.

“Continue,” I try coaxing, albeit begrudgingly.

“It’s just…” He pauses. “You say you don’t want all these things because of your family, but it’s the exact same reason you do want them too. And it’s confusing.”

“I want them if I’ve earned them,” I correct him. “I want to feel like everything happening in my career is becauseI’vemade it happen for myself, not my last name.”

Suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb turns on in his brain, and he sits up straighter.

“Oh my God. That’s why you decked me when we were back in high school, isn’t it? Because I was talking trash about you only getting places because of your name when it’s actually the last thing you want.”

Bingo.

“Pretty much, yeah,” I say with a sigh. “Wasn’t too hard to keep adding fuel to the fire after that.”

“Well, shit.” He shakes his head before letting out a wry laugh. “My mouth really does cause more problems than it should sometimes.”

“You’re just figuring this out now?”

He nods. “How’s the saying go? The first step to change is awareness?”

“And you expect me to believe you wanna change? Really? You?”

“Hey, I haven’t gotten in a fight since we started following through on this superstition,” he protests.

It’s true; he’s reined in his temper a lot in the past month, though I’d chalk it up to regularly getting laid and tasting victory, not because he’s a changed man. But I still give him the benefit of the doubt, if only to placate him.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a real pacifist now, de Haas.”

“Takes one to know one, right?”

I can’t stop my eyes from rolling. “Sure.”

I swear he gets off on me giving him a clipped or sarcastic response, because he always grins at me like an idiot whenever it happens. Dimples and all.

Probably because I’m feeding him exactly the reaction he’s hoping for. Always looking to get under my skin.

But his grin slowly fades as he continues staring, studying me the way he would a playbook. I’m not sure what he’s looking for when he does it, only that he must find it when a solemn expression crosses his features.

“Oak?”

I try not to let the nickname burrow its way into my chest the way it wants to, but it manages anyway, nestling up behind my ribs. “Yeah?”

“I just want you to know…I’m sorry.” He pauses and clears his throat. “You know, for all the shit I said back then.”

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