Page 6 of Devil on Skates
Once he gently sets me down, I feel different, as if I claimed something for myself, even if it’s just for one night.
“I need to find the bathroom,” I say softly.
He nods, stepping away from me.
I grab my torn underwear, adjust my dress, slip out, and head to the bathroom down the hallway. As I lock the door, I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My lips are swollen, my hair is a mess, and my eyes are still bright from everything that just happened.
Tomorrow, I’ll meet Keith, smile, say all the right things, and pretend I’m okay with the life my dad mapped out for me.
But tonight?
Tonight was fully mine.
The only shame is that I have to leave the handsome stranger and never see him again. But at least I’ll remember him forever.
Chapter 3
XAVIER
THE PUCK SLIPS PASTmy stick again, the second time this morning. I reach for it, overcorrect, and end up hitting the ice hard on one knee.
“Gallagher! Wake the fuck up!” Coach Marshall’s voice booms across the rink, and yeah, I definitely earned that one.
I push up, my jaw tight, my knee stinging like hell. A few guys snicker behind me, but I block it out. Normally, focus isn’t my issue. I’m good at shutting everything out when I’m on the ice. That’s part of what makes me valuable out here and what keeps my dad off my back.
But not today, because my brain keeps drifting back to last night.
To her. The girl with enchanting eyes who disappeared on me like a ghost, as if she never existed.
“Again!” Coach’s whistle brings me out of my thoughts.
We reset. I force myself to lock in, my eyes on the puck and tracking every pass. When it finally comes my way, I handle it cleanly and send a crisp pass to Ian on the wing. No mistakes, just muscle memory.
It should calm me down, but it doesn’t. The second the drill ends, I’m right back in my head again.
I don’t even know what her name is. But I remember her haunted eyes and a smile that didn’t quite reach them. No idea where she’s from, what she studies, or what college she attends.
During the water break, Ronan skates up, already grinning. “Looking rough today, Captain. Late night?”
“Something like that.” I take a long drink, hoping he’ll drop it.
“Must’ve been a hell of a time. You’re never off your game.”
“I’m fine.”
He laughs, taps my shoulder with his stick, and skates off. “Just don’t let Coach catch on.”
Yeah, too late for that.
Coach has been side-eyeing me all morning. Usually that’s enough to snap me back into line. My dad and Coach? Basically the same guy. All about results and discipline. Zero tolerance for bullshit. I’ve spent my whole life trying to meet their expectations, which always feel just out of reach.
But even that kind of pressure isn’t enough to ground me today.
We move into scrimmage drills. I do okay, without major screw-ups, but I’m not playing like myself. The physical grind finally pushes the mystery girl to the background for a bit, which helps.
At least until we’re in the locker room.
