Page 37 of The Pucks We Freeze
A thrill shot through me, curling in my belly and flaring warm beneath my skin.
I bit my lip and typed back quickly.
Me: I am. Why?
He didn’t answer. A few seconds later, the locker room door cracked open, and there he was.
Kade stepped into the hallway like he owned it. I swear it was like the air shifted to make room for him. His hair was damp and curling slightly around his ears. He’d changed into joggers and a fitted long-sleeved shirt that clung to the cut of his chest and arms like it was made for him.
He didn’t smile right away. He scanned the hallway, casual and unreadable, until his eyes locked on me.
A slow smirk spread across his face. The kind that always curled my toes and made my brain forget how to function. When his gaze dropped to the jersey I was wearing—his jersey—his grin deepened into something that made my breath catch.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t wave me over. He just simply jerked his chin toward a side door before slipping through it like a secret only I was meant to follow.
I didn’t hesitate.
My boots clicked against the tile as I moved through the crowd, weaving around fans and lingering players until I reached the door. I pushed it open and stepped into a narrow maintenance hallway, the lighting dim and flickering above. The noise from the arena dulled instantly, leaving behind only the faint hum of fluorescent lights.
He was waiting for me just beyond the door, one shoulder pressed against the wall, his eyes already on mine.
His fingers reached out and wrapped around mine the moment I stepped closer.
The contact jolted through me like a live wire. Warm, certain, and possessive in the best way.
My breath hitched. “Where are we going?” I asked, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
Kade gave me a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Somewhere I don’t have to share you with half the damn arena.”
We walked in silence, the tension between us taut and humming. Every step made my heart beat harder. Every glance from him made my breath come shallower.
“You have any idea how hard it was to concentrate tonight?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and edged with heat.
I turned toward him, startled. “No. Why?”
He slowed his steps and faced me, his eyes dragging over my figure in the oversized jersey. “You. Sitting that close to the glass in my jersey, smiling like you had no idea what you were doing to me.”
My lips parted, but he didn’t wait for a response.
“That’s what got me sent to the box,” he said. “The guy caught me watching you and wouldn’t shut up. Kept chirping about how he was gonna take you from me.” His voice dropped. “If you weren’t making it so damn hard not to stare, maybe I could’ve focused on the game.”
I let out a laugh, half flattered, half flustered. “So it’s my fault now?”
“I’m saying I couldn’t focus,” he murmured. “And when I threw that hit?” He stepped closer. “All I could picture was you with him.”
We reached another doorway and slipped through. The air turned colder again, and the soft glow of arena lights spilled down from above, casting golden reflections on the freshly resurfaced ice.
The rink was empty now. The crowd gone. The chaos silenced.
He walked me toward the penalty box, never letting go of my hand. When we reached the gate, he pushed it open and stepped inside, then turned and reached for me.
“Come on,” he said, voice soft. “You earned this.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered.
He shut the gate behind us with a quiet click, then backed me gently against the plexiglass. The boards were cold at my back, but the heat coming off Kade made up for it tenfold.
“You looked good out there,” he said, eyes dragging slowly over my face. “Wearing my name. Cheering for me like I mattered.”
