Page 19 of The Last Inch Of Ice
Other people are easy. Other people telegraph their thoughts, their desires, their disgust. But Rykov? Rykov is a black hole. Impenetrable. Unreadable. And it makes Kai want to claw his own skin off.
Rykov’s eyes snap back up to meet his.
For one suspended moment, neither of them moves. The water cascades down between them. Somewhere in the background, Sam is saying something to Vyachovsky, laughing about a play. But it all feels very far away.
Then Rykov jerks back like he’s been burned.
He turns and storms out of the showers without another word, leaving wet footprints across the tile.
Kai stays frozen against the wall, his hands shaking. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to go after Rykov. To chase him down and turn this into what they’ve both been circling for months—a brutal, destructive fistfight that would finally break open whatever this thing is between them.
Instead, he picks up the washcloth and starts scrubbing his skin with punishing force.
“You good, Callahan?” Miller calls from a few stalls down.
“Fantastic,” Kai says, his voice steady despite everything.
He doesn’t throw the washcloth. Doesn’t punch the wall. Doesn’t do any of the things he wants to do, because other players are watching.
He finishes his shower like a normal person.
He’s very good at pretending to be normal.
* * *
At night in his hotel room, Kai lies on the bed scrolling through sports news on his phone. He can’t bear to see how he and Rykov look from the outside.
Which is strange. Kai loves watching hockey. He’s spent countless hours dissecting games, studying plays, memorizing the subtle patterns that separate good players from great ones.
But watching himself and Rykov on the ice together makes something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
The headlines are brutal.
“Wolverines’ Chemistry Issues Continue Despite Win Streak”
“Rykov and Callahan: Talented Duo or Ticking Time Bomb?”
“Is Kaisyn Callahan Worth the Trouble?”
He clicks on that last one before he can stop himself. Big mistake.
“Sources close to the team suggest tensions between center Nazar Rykov and winger Kaisyn Callahan are reaching a breaking point. While the Wolverines continue to win games, insiders report that the two players can barely stand to be in the same room together. ‘It’s only a matter of time before something gives,’ one anonymous player told reporters…”
Kai closes the browser and tosses his phone onto the bed.
It rings immediately.
Unknown number.
His stomach sinks. He knows exactly who it is. His father has a collection of burner phones specifically for calling his youngest son, because he learned years ago that Kai won’t answer calls from his actual number.
He should let it go to voicemail.
He answers on the fourth ring.
“Kaisyn.” His father’s voice is clipped, businesslike, with that familiar edge of disappointment that Kai could probably identify in his sleep. “I’ve been calling.”
“I’ve been busy,” he says lightly. “Playing hockey. Causing scandals. Living down to expectations. The usual Tuesday.”
