Page 89 of Fractured Faceoff

I swallowed hard as doubts threatened to drown out the warmth blooming in my chest. But even as uncertainty clawed at my insides, one thing remained crystal clear: Isla had changed everything for me, and now I was stuck wondering how to navigate whatever this was between us—whatever it could become—if only I'd let it.

I disentangled myself from Isla’s warmth, careful not to wake her. I needed to clear my head. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the fabric soft against my skin, and took one last look at her sleeping form. The way the sunlight played on her features sent a rush of warmth through me, but I had to push that aside.

She’d want to talk about last night, and I had to prepare for that. What the hell was I supposed to say? “Hey, so about us?” I shook my head at the thought. It sounded ridiculous even in my mind.

As quietly as possible, I made my way downstairs. The house felt eerily still, the kind of silence that made every creak of the floorboards echo like thunder in my ears. The kitchen welcomed me with its familiar scent of coffee lingering from yesterday. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since before the game.

I rifled through the cabinets, pulling out eggs and bacon while my mind raced ahead. What if she wanted to pretend last night never happened? What if she regretted it? The panic surged again as I cracked an egg into a bowl—careful not to let any shells slip in—and whisked it vigorously.

The sizzle of bacon hitting the hot pan broke through my thoughts. I focused on each step, letting the routine ground me: chop onions, season with saltand pepper. Cooking felt oddly comforting amidst this chaos swirling around in my chest.

I moved around the kitchen with purpose; maybe if I kept busy enough, I could stave off those worries just a bit longer. Flipping pancakes became an exercise in focus—measurements precise and flipping them just right took practice.

With each pancake flipped golden brown on the griddle, an unshakeable determination built within me. If we were going to have this conversation—whatever it turned out to be—I wanted it to start over breakfast; something normal.

But damn it all, even as the food cooked, anxiety twisted knots in my stomach because there was no guarantee we’d walk away unscathed from whatever came next.

I focused on flipping the last pancake when I heard the unmistakable creak of the front door swinging open. I turned, unsure who was coming in until I saw Ava striding in like she owned the place.

“Ava,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t remember inviting you over.”

She tossed her hair back and marched toward me, hands on her hips. “Oh please, Jared. You think this is a game? You’re dating my sister now?” She glanced at my bare torso, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. “We told you this at your engagement barbecue. Or did you forget?”

“Forget?” Her voice dripped with disbelief. “You think I can just forget?”

A wave of irritation surged through me. I didn’t want to deal with this right now—especially not when everything felt so precarious with Isla.

“I’d actually like my key back,” I said, cutting her off.

Her eyes widened in shock as if I had slapped her. “You’re serious? I saw what happened at your game last night! Hockey World News won’t stop replaying it—and it’s a preseason game!”

“Ava,” I interrupted, holding up a hand, feeling my patience wearing thin. “I need you to leave.”

“Not until you explain!” She stepped closer, defiance etched across her face. “Why my sister? You could have had anyone—anyone—and you picked her. Why? Was this just some way to get back at me?”

My breath caught for a moment; the frustration simmered beneath my skin as anger flickered in her eyes. But there was no way around it; the truth had settled inside me like a stone.

“Because she was there for me,” I said slowly, each word deliberate.

Ava opened her mouth to protest but faltered instead, surprise washing over her features as she processed what I had just revealed.

This wasn’t about Ava anymore—it never should have been.

“I don’t believe you,” Ava snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the morning air. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “This is your way of punishing me for marrying Kash and not breaking up with him like I said. What do you want me to say, Jared? I hate that you’re with her when you’re supposed to be with me.”

I shook my head, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. “No, I’m not,” I replied, realization dawning on me like a sunrise after a long night. “I realize that now.”

“Please, Jared, we can figure something out,”she urged, stepping closer as if trying to close the distance between us. “I didn’t… I love you. I always have.”

“And yet, I wasn’t safe for you,” I reminded her, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Her brow furrowed, and she pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’re a hockey player! What happens after you retire? How are you supposed to take care of me?”

“I would have,” I shot back, anger flaring inside me. “I would have done anything for you. I chose to sign here! But that never mattered to you. All you cared about was playing some game.” I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to calm down even as fury bubbled beneath the surface. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m in love with Isla. That’s not going to change.”

Ava scoffed, disbelief etched across her face. “Love?” she echoed incredulously.

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