Page 34 of The Pucks We Freeze
The arena buzzed with energy. I tugged my coat tighter, the cold from the ice creeping through the glass, even from our front-row seats. Kade secured them for us, with a prime view right on the glass. Perfect for snapping photos.
My camera hung around my neck, fingers curled around it more for something to do than necessity. I tried to stay cool, tried to act like I was here to capture the game and not the boy I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Dad sat to my right, eyes fixed on the ice like he was reliving his own glory days. On the other side of him, Lynnette clapped and cheered as the Rixton Wolves skated out for warm-ups.
And then there he was.
Kade.
He skated backward with his usual focus, but then, he looked up. Right at me. His smirk was subtle, just enough to twist something low in my stomach. He stopped short near the boards and ran through his usual warm-up drills. The second he dropped into that low glide, hips shifting, grinding against the ice, I nearly choked on my breath.
“Wills,” Dad said, nudging me. “You getting any good shots?”
I fumbled with the lens. “Y-yeah. Just adjusting the settings.”
Which wasn’t a lie but not fully the truth either. Kade’s smirk told me he knew exactly what I was thinking, the memories of last night still fresh before everything went dark.
The game kicked off with a roar from the crowd. It didn’t take long to notice something was off.
Gavin wasn’t out there.
My eyes scanned the bench, the tunnel, and the ice. Nothing. The knot in my stomach tightened. Kade mentioned earlier he was planning to talk to the guys. Was this the result?
When Kade skated by me, I caught his eye again. He shook his head, slow and deliberate, like he already knew what I was thinking.
So not his plan then.
Which meant… someone else made sure Gavin didn’t play.
That thought stuck with me as I snapped shots of the team in motion. The Wolves were on fire tonight. The adrenaline in the air was thick, and Kade played like he had something to prove. Maybe he did.
A fight broke out mid-second period. Tension spiked after a questionable hit, and tempers were boiling over. Gloves flew, and Kade was at the center of it all.
I gasped as he lunged at the other player, fists grabbing jerseys, bodies colliding. The ref blew the whistle, dragging them apart. Kade didn’t argue. He barely blinked as the ref motioned him to the penalty box.
He skated off, chest heaving and his jaw clenched.
Then he settled in the box like it was a throw and lookedright at me.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not innocent nor sweet. All heat and bad decisions. He leaned back against the wall, his stare glued to mine, like he wasn’t sitting in the sin bin for fighting but posing for a private audience.
My cheeks flamed. I narrowed my eyes and lifted the camera, pretending to zoom in on something behind him.
He winked. The jerk winked at me. I barely choked down the laugh.
Judging by the low chuckle under my dad’s breath, I’m starting to think he noticed.
By the time the third period began, the score was tied. Tension crackled like electricity in the air. Every play felt like it carried the weight of the entire season. This game wasn’t just about pride—it was about playoffs. About their chance at the championship.
The Wolves needed one more goal to lock in their spot for the tournament.
My heart hammered as the final minutes ticked down. Kade hit the ice with sharp, explosive strides—past one defender, then another. He faked left, cut right, and snapped a wrist shot that ripped through the chaos and straight into the net.
The crowd erupted. I launched to my feet, fists slamming against the glass as I screamed his name.
I couldn’t breathe as I snapped a few shots of him. When I turned toward my dad, I noticed he had been watching me.
He didn’t say anything. Only smiled, soft and quiet, the way he did when I aced a photo essay in high school. Like he knew and was proud.
