Page 28 of Iced Out
“No. Not until you?—”
“Now.”
His voice cracked like a whip.
Then he was gone—pushing past me, disappearing into the shadows at the far end of the rink. I stood there, skates locked in place, body trembling from more than the cold.
We can’t stay. We saw too much.Her voice curled through my mind like a vice, choking me. What the hell had really happened? And why did it feel like everything—everything between Luke and me—was about to explode?
The worst part wasn’t that he got to me. It was that some traitorous part of me still wanted to believe he meant it—that buried under all the anger, the guy who once chose me over everything wasn’t gone.
And that maybe, deep down, I hadn’t either. Because when he looked at me—really looked—I felt myself becoming the version I used to trust. The one who believed in art. In love. In something more than damage control.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUKE
Elbows flew. Sneakers squeaked. Sweat hung heavy. Gym class was a pressure cooker. No coach in sight, just testosterone, grudges, and too much to prove. I clocked Elise and Logan whispering as they slipped in late, their body language tight. Elise threw a look over her shoulder—first at Mila then at me.
Logan’s dad was out of King Enterprises. Bitter. Sniffing around Dunn Industries. That kind of fall never went unanswered.
We were playing basketball in gym class. But it felt like a battlefield.
Mila had the ball. She moved as if she didn’t give a damn about who was watching—but she had to know Logan was. His eyes tracked her the way a predator watches prey.
She crossed left then blew past him as though he wasn’t there. Except he was. His smirk widened. I saw it before it happened—too far away to stop it but close enough to feel the hit in my gut.
He stepped into her path and clipped her ankle. Her body folded. One second flying, the next—her knee cracked againstthe floor. Louder than the whistle that never came. A curse slipped from her lips as she crumpled.
Everything inside me snapped. The decision I’d been weighing about Mila was made, solidified in one move too far against her. I pushed through bodies. Grabbed Logan by the shirt and slammed him back. His head bounced off the cinderblock, echoing through the gym.
“What the fuck was that?”
His smirk faltered. “Relax, King. It was an accident.”
Bullshit. My knuckles itched. Theo and Jax hovered at the edge of the court. Watching. Waiting. My team. But not just mine. Mila’s too, once I made it known I would protect her. That was clear—if they didn’t move, didn’t interfere, that meant something. A shift in loyalty.
Before I could decide what to do with him, Mila was on her feet. Wobbly, but standing. Her eyes locked on mine. Searching. As if she wasn’t sure what version of me she was looking at.
She didn’t say a word. Just brushed off her hands and limped off the court like it didn’t hurt. Like she hadn’t just been taken down. And it killed me that she didn’t look back.
After practice, the locker room stank of body spray, sweat, and post-game bravado. Most of the guys had cleared out, except for a few still jostling around the benches.
Jax shoved a towel into his gym locker. “You good?” His tone was careful.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Theo grunted, leaning against the locker beside mine. “Logan’s an idiot. He’s lashing out, and not only here. On the ice. If Coach doesn’t handle it, someone should.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
Jax exchanged a glance with Theo then clapped my shoulder once before heading out.
“We’ve got your back. Just figure out what she is to you,” Theo muttered before following.
The room echoed with the sound of the door shutting after they left. Empty but not quiet. When I followed out the same exit of the locker room, Mila was waiting, just past the weight racks. She stepped into my path as if she belonged there. Like she was daring me to go around her.
“What’s your deal?” Her voice was low, aggravated. “You screw with my head, let your little fan club take shots, and then the second someone else steps in, you’re ready to throw down?”
