Page 18 of Stick Handled

The ice cracks under the force of my skates as I push off hard, gliding across the rink at full speed. I could barely get any sleep last night, not after watching Avery until the lights finally went out.

Now, the cold air rushes past my face, but all I feel is the fire in my chest, my body charged up from the moment I stepped onto the ice. This is where I belong.

I angle my stick, ready for the puck, as Rowan powers down the right side, cutting past one of our defensemen in a blur. The puck’s coming my way, and I know it before Rowan even passes it over. He trusts me to be exactly where I need to be. He always has.

I take the pass cleanly, the blade of my stick absorbing the impact as I cut back toward the center of the rink. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ares coming up on my left, barreling toward the goal like a goddamn freight train, his body a wall of muscle and aggression. No one dares stand in his way.

I give him a quick nod, feigning right to draw the defenseman toward me before snapping the puck toward Ares, tape-to-tape. He snatches it effortlessly, his massive frame powering through as if the other guy wasn’t even there.

The puck rockets off Ares’s stick with a sharp crack, a slapshot so fast it’s a blur, cutting through the air. It hits the back of the net before our goalie has time to react.

“Fuck, yeah!” I laugh triumphantly as Ares skates past me, the corner of his lips curling up.

“Nice one.” Rowan glides up next to us, tapping his stick against mine. “Lance!” he calls to the goalie. “You have to act faster than that.”

“You try acting fast when Ares shoots the puck at you like a damn bullet,” Lance shouts back.

This is what we live for. The adrenaline, speed, power. It’s a different world out here. One where nothing else matters but the ice beneath our skates and the next goal.

I skate back into position, my eyes sweeping the rink, but they flicker to the empty stands for a second.

Avery.

She’s sitting there by herself, bundled up, her wide eyes following every move we make on the ice. I know she’s been watching me because as soon as I look at her, she snatched her gaze away. And fuck, I love it. I love knowing her eyes are on me while I’m not looking, just like mine were last night.

I catch her gaze again for half a second, and a slow grin creeps across my face. It’s not the ice keeping me fired up right now like usual. It’s her.

But I can’t get distracted. Not with Ares and Rowan always playing like their lives depend on it. I refocus, locking my gaze on the puck as it’s dropped back into play.

This time, it’s Rowan who grabs it off the face-off, cutting up the ice. The guy’s skating is so clean it’s almost unfair, but that’s Rowan. Precision. Discipline. It’s what makes him one of the best.

I take off after him, trailing by a step, waiting for the opening. He dangles past two of our defensemen, dodging checks. It’s a thing of beauty, but when he gets boxed in near the boards, I know it’s my time to move.

“Got you!” I shout, pushing hard, cutting through the gap as Rowan threads the puck back to me.

I fly down the center lane, ignoring the shove of a defenseman trying to knock me off balance. My body takes the full hit, but I’m still upright, still in control. My stick angles back, eyes locked on the net.

In one swift motion, I wind up and let it rip. The goalie reacts a nanosecond too slow, the puck sliding past his blocker, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud.

“Get your shit together, Lance,” I shout out to him, skating around behind the goal, my heart pumping with the rush of it.

The guys skate over to slap my back, but my mind is only half on the game now. Every time I move, I can feel Avery’s eyes on me, and I can’t help how my body reacts to that knowledge. It’s like an invisible tether, pulling me toward her, even when I know I need to focus.

“Another round,” Rowan barks out, his voice firm as he sets up for the next drill.

There’s a reason we’re the best.“Practice like you’re playing the Stanley Cup Final every damn day. No excuses.”That’s what our coach has drilled into our heads.

“Bring it.” I smash my stick against the ice.

The next drill starts, and it’s a fast-paced three-on-two. Me, Rowan, and Ares against two of our top defensemen. I weave through the defense, my skates barely brushing the ice as I take off down the left side, ready for whatever’s coming next.

The final whistle blows, and I’m the last one off the ice. Rowan, Ares, and the rest of the guys are already halfway to the locker room, but I can’t take my eyes off the stands.

Avery’s still there, sitting quietly, eyes wide and fixed on the rink like she’s trying to blend into the background.

I pull off my helmet, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, and start toward her. We’re supposed to stay behind for our lesson, both telling Rowan that we have somewhere else to be. But my plans were cut short before we even got to the rink.

“Red,” I call out, my voice cutting through the stillness of the rink.

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