Page 68 of On Thin Ice

Was it because they knew about Bell and me?

“You two have been killing it on the ice, and the fans love the social media series. Engagement’s through the roof.” She hesitated, tapping her pen against her desk.

That pause made my stomach twist tighter.

“But with the extra attention, we’re seeing some … uglier comments, too.”

The skin at the back of my neck prickled, a cold sweat breaking out under my collar.

Bell shifted slightly in his seat, his posture stiffening just a fraction.

“We’re scrubbing the worst of it as fast as we can,” she explained, leaning forward in her chair, her tone carefully neutral, though her eyes flashed with concern. “But the comments are … of a personal nature, shall we say.”

Bell tipped his chin in that way he did when he was pretending something didn’t bother him, but it very much did. “Yeah, that’s pretty normal for me.” He gave a tight, shallow shrug, his smile straining at the corners. “You learn to tune it out.”

Ramos cleared his throat. “Look, no one’s blaming you—obviously. You’ve been great. The content’s been great. We just want to make sure you’re both aware and that you’re comfortable continuing.”

Comfortable?

Nothing about this was comfortable—it was horrifying.

A couple of months of cautious happiness was circling the drain because Bell and I couldn’t keep our eyes off each other for five fucking minutes on camera.

This was exactly why I’d been hesitant to do this series at all.

I avoided scrutiny like the plague, but now, all eyes were on me.

On us.

I was good at deflecting from the truth I didn’t want others to see, but I wasn’t that good.

We’d fucked up.

“Did you know about this?” I asked, turning to face Bell.

He blinked once, caught off guard by the accusation in my tone, before dragging a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw some of it, but it’s fine,” he said, like he was trying to reassure me. “It’s just a few trolls.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“You were already—” He stopped himself, glancing at Dante as if suddenly realizing he shouldn’t say too much. A flush crept up his neck as he turned back to me, his brow furrowed with concern. “You were already stressed.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand.

Understand?

My hands curled into fists on my thighs. He was trying to manage me.

I pulled my phone out, jaw clenched so tight it ached. My hands felt clumsy as I pulled up the team’s latest post, time-stamped twenty minutes ago. I scrolled through the comments, and there it was, a flood of shit Dante’s team hadn’t managed to scrub yet.

PuckWizard_7: Bet you anything Harrison’s the bottom.

BlueLineDefender:Nah, Bell’s the one getting railed every night. He’s never been shy about his preferences.

SlapShot_24: Pretty boy must be so fucking sore.

H0ckeyLifer: Listen, I don’t care who’s fucking who, as long as they keep doing it. Harrison’s playing better than he has in years.

PowerPlay_Junkie: They’re not teammates, they’re soulmates.

Puck_Hustler17: Their supposed chemistry goes way beyond the ice. Think the team knows?

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