Page 17 of Beautiful Collide

It all circles back to one thing: I have something to prove.

Mason claps a hand on my shoulder, his grin easy. “You ready, Wilde?”

I glance at him, and for the first time since that disaster of a morning, I feel a flicker of something close to gratitude. Mason’s been in my corner since the second I stepped into this locker room, and he hasn’t stopped trying to lighten the load.

I force a smirk. “Born ready.” My answer might come off as cocky, but it’s better than admitting I’m not.

“Good.” He leans in. “Because if you fuck this up tonight, Coach will have your ass. The man is no joke. If you’re not careful, he’s liable to have you weeding the courtyard of Lancaster Arena. And when you pass out from the exertion, he’ll step over your body without a backward glance.”

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “Wow. Um . . . thanks for the pep talk.”

Mason grins. “Anytime.”

Together, we make our way onto the ice.

It’s pure chaos. The crowd cheering is like nothing I have ever heard before.

It’s deafening, and I fucking love it.

This is what I’ve worked my whole life for.

The minors were nothing like this.

Even the lights here are more blinding, the energy in the arena more palpable. My heart pounds in my chest.

All the doubts creep back in.

Then the puck drops and everything else fades away.

From the second my stick touches the ice, I’m locked in. The Colts are fast, but I’m quicker. I push hard. My lungs tighten from the exertion, but I have too much to lose, so I push through the pain. My skates slice across the ice as I dart down the rink. The puck finds my stick, and instinct takes over.

I pass it to Aiden, who maneuvers around the defense with the ease of a veteran. Now I see that he lives up to the hype. He’s that good. He fakes left, then sends the puck back my way. I barely have time to think before I shoot it past the goalie and into the net.

The horn blares, and the crowd erupts.

One goal.

My first.

I don’t have time to celebrate. The Colts push hard after the face-off, and suddenly, I’m being crushed against the boards.

Before I can react, Dane is there, barreling into the guy like a freight train. He doesn’t even glance my way. He skates off like protecting me is just another part of his job, which I guess it technically is. It still pisses me off, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

The puck’s back in play, and I’m moving again, faster this time, more aggressive. I force myself to play harder than I ever have, desperate to prove I belong here. Every pass, every shot, every stride feels like a test, and I. Will. Not. Fail.

I block a pass from one of the Colts forwards, stealing the puck and driving it up the ice.

Another pass. Another shot. Another goal.

Two goals.

By the end of the first period, I’m drenched in sweat but buzzing with adrenaline.

Mason nudges me as we head toward the locker room, his grin wider than I’ve ever seen. “Not bad, rookie.”

“Not bad?” I scoff. “I’m carrying this team already,” I joke, or at least attempt to, but seeing as Aiden scowls at me, I don’t think it hit the way I wanted. Oh, well. I can play the role of the cocky bastard.

“Easy there.” Aiden pushes past us. “You’re still a rookie, remember?” he says, confirming my suspicions. He’s not my greatest fan.Yet.I’ll win him over eventually.

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