Page 99 of Fractured Faceoff

I closed the door behind him and leaned against it, my heart racing. What had just happened? Why did it feel like I was the one getting the help?

His words echoed in my mind:You must accept your past.It hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Nikolai was right. I couldn’t keep hiding behind walls built from guilt and anger—especially not when it came to Ava. Sure, she had always cast a long shadow over me, but that didn’t mean I needed to stay in it.

I pushed away from the door and moved toward my desk, the familiar clutter surrounding me feeling oddly suffocating now. My past didn’t have to definemy future.

But what about Jared? That thought ignited something within me—a flicker of warmth beneath the layers of hurt and resentment. The moments we shared clung to my memory like sweet smoke; his laughter still echoed through my mind like a comforting melody amidst all this chaos.

It was time to stop running.

What had been so enticing about throwing myself into this charade with Jared? Maybe it wasn’t about revenge after all; maybe it was about finding myself again. His charm wrapped around me like a soft blanket on a cold night—tempting yet complicated.

I pressed my palms against the cool surface of my desk and inhaled deeply, grappling with this newfound realization. No more living in fear of comparison or judgment; I needed to do something I wanted to do.

The thought stirred something fierce inside me—an urge to confront my feelings head-on instead of deflecting them onto others. This time, there would be no retreating into the familiar patterns that suffocated me before.

As I straightened up and turned back toward my computer screen, determination coursed through me like electricity—I was ready for whatever came next.

Chapter 30

Jared

The ice beneath my skates felt like home, each stride easing the tension that had built up over the last few days. I finished practice; the team buzzing around me with laughter and jabs. I focused on my breathing, steadying myself before stepping off the rink.

In the locker room, the chatter faded into a low hum as I tossed my gear into my stall. My muscles ached from the drills, but it was a good ache—reminded me I was alive, pushing against limits. I grabbed a towel and headed for the showers.

Hot water cascaded over me, washing away sweat and fatigue. Steam filled the small space, enveloping me like a cocoon. My thoughts drifted to Isla—her laughter still echoed in my ears—and I couldn't shake that feeling of warmth from our night together, our morning.

An ache filled my chest. I didn't know what page we were on now, though. And I knew I needed to do something about it.

I rinsed off and leaned against the cool tile wall, letting the water flow over my face. I could hear Westontalking to some of the other players from here, his deep voice booming. Since our chat, I couldn't bring myself to see him in that dark light—the one that twisted memories of our past into something toxic. It felt different. No simmering rage bubbled up when I thought of him; just an unsettling calmness.

Hadn’t I once wanted to punch him every time he stepped on the ice? Now, it was more like an awkward understanding between two players who had tangled in each other's lives without asking permission. Maybe there was something to be said about time dulling sharp edges.

I finished up and dried off, staring at my reflection in the foggy mirror. A scarred man stared back at me—somewhere between anger and acceptance. Hell if I knew what to make of Weston’s history with Hazel or what had gone down between them all those years ago, but it didn't seem worth losing sleep over anymore.

As I slipped on fresh clothes, I couldn’t help but wonder how this new dynamic would play out with everyone around us—Isla's unraveling relationship with Brody only added another layer to it all.

I was about to head back to my locker when Coach Barrett called my name. He stood in the doorway of his office, a shadow in the bright hallway.

“Crowder, get in here.”

I sighed, but nodded and made my way over. His office smelled of fresh coffee and something that resembled old leather—fitting for a man like him. I took a seat across from him as he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.

“You did good yesterday during the game,” he said, his voice gruff but approving. “But we need to have a talk about that little stunt you pulled.”

A knot tightened in my stomach.

“I can’t have you threatening anyone from our organization again.”

"With all due respect, sir, that man was disrespecting my woman."

Barrett's eyes narrowed, studying me with an intensity that made my heart race. “You care for her?”

I nodded without thinking, a rush of certainty washing over me.

“You love her?”

"I do."

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