Page 18 of Beautiful Collide

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. At least I’m starting to prove myself.

Before we leave the rink, I catch sight of Molly in the stands, and my stomach twists. She’s sitting near the glass, her face unreadable. Her silence in the hallway still stings, and the fact that she’s watching me now only adds fuel to the fire.

Fuck.

The second period is brutal.

The Colts are relentless. Their weak defense from the first period is tight now. They are trying to close the gap. That much is obvious.

At one point, I’m slammed into the boards again, harder this time. My vision blurs for a second, but before I can even process the hit, Dane is there. He grabs the guy who hit me and makes quick work of putting him in his place.

The penalty box door slams shut behind him, but not before he shoots me a look. I can’t tell if it’s a warning or an acknowledgment. I hope it’s the latter.

It’s bad enough that I already got off to a bad start with him. I intend to be with the team for a long time, and since Sinclair is a veteran of the Saints, I’d rather have him on my side than against me.

The whole period is a blur.

Must be the adrenaline.

Because the next thing I know, it’s time for the second intermission. Once in the locker room, Dane approaches me.

“Not bad.” His tone is dry. I wonder if he’s fucking with me.

I glance up to assess his mood. Even though he isn’t smiling, I can tell this is the real deal. He means it. “Thanks.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re a good addition to the team.”

The compliment catches me off guard, and I’m not sure how to respond. I feel like I’m at a crossroads with him, and I don’t want to fuck this up.

“Thanks,” I say again, more sincerely this time.

He studies me for a beat longer before nodding. “Just . . . keep it together, Wilde. We don’t need drama.”

“I’m not the one causing drama.”Shit.It slips out before I can stop myself.

I tense, waiting to see how he’ll take it. If the olive branch he tossed my way is genuine enough to withstand a snarky comment or two.

Dane’s jaw tightens, but instead of snapping back, he exhales heavily and offers a reluctant nod. “Fair enough.”

It’s not exactly an apology, but it’s the closest thing to a truce we’ve had since I joined the team.

As he walks away, I can’t help but feel a flicker of relief. Maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up.

By the timethe final horn sounds, we’re up by two goals, and the arena erupts in cheers.

As I skate toward the bench, Mason greets me first, clapping me on the back. “Hell of a debut, Wilde.”

“Thanks.” I nod.

Dane is next, his expression unreadable but his nod of approval clear.

“Good game.” Note to self: Dane isn’t a talker. This is the best I’m going to get.

“I did kill it,” I tease. This is who I am and always have been. Hell, I was voted class clown for my high school superlatives. It’s best they know my personality now if we’re ever going to get along.

He doesn’t say or do anything for a second.Fuck, did I read this wrong?

Then he shakes his head, but I swear I see his lips twitch.

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