Crossing The Line With My Hockey Stepbrother

ELIZABETH'S POV

The ice always felt like a second home.

Cold, steady, unforgiving. It didn’t care who you were, it didn't bend for anyone. Either you learned how to move with it, or it would tear you apart.

The sharp scrape of skates against ice echoed through the rink, filling the air with a rhythm that pulsed straight into my chest. 

I leaned against the cold railing, the chill biting at my palms as I clutched the bar tighter than necessary. Out there, cutting across the rink like he owned it, was Phillip. Fast. Fierce. Effortless.

He skated across the ice like he owned it, every move smooth, every shot effortless. I hated the way my stomach flipped when his eyes met mine through the glass, just for a second. It was enough to send a shiver down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold.

Forbidden. Off-limits. Dangerous.

Not just because of my brother. But because of what he was underneath the jersey, underneath the human mask. The kind of secret that could ruin both of us if anyone ever found out.

My wolf stirred the moment my eyes landed on him. Dawn’s low hum brushed against my thoughts, a quiet whisper of hunger I didn’t want to acknowledge.

He’s ours.

He’s not, I shot back, even as heat crawled up my neck. He can’t be.

Yes, he is. She argued. I didn't answer her. I couldn't. Not when I knew the truth. 

The crowd erupted when he scored, a blur of black and white as the puck slammed into the net. Girls shrieked from the stands, waving handmade signs with his name scrawled in glitter. A group pressed against the glass, screaming every time he skated by. The sound made something dark twist in my chest.

Jealousy. Sharp. Unwanted. Dangerous.

“Careful, Liz,” Reagan’s voice cut through my thoughts, warm and smug. My older brother leaned against the railing beside me, arms folded across his chest. 

His hair was still damp from his own earlier practice, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. “You’re staring so hard, you might burn a hole right through his head.”

“I’m not staring at him.” I muttered, too quickly.

Reagan arched his brow. “Right. And I’m secretly the next Alpha King. Admit it, you’ve got that dreamy look in your eye.”

I elbowed him, scowling. “You’re imagining things.”

“Mm-hm.” He tilted his head toward the rink. “Don’t even think about it, Liz. He’s my best friend.” His voice lowered, more serious now. “You of all people should know the rules.”

“I do know the rules,” I snapped, though the words tasted bitter.

Phillip was off-limits. Completely. Not just because he was Reagan’s best friend, but because mixing loyalty with desire had consequences in our world, consequences that could ripple through the pack. Everyone knew it. Especially me.

And yet, when Phillip’s eyes flicked up to the stands mid-play, scanning the crowd, they landed on me. For the briefest second, the world narrowed to just us. My breath caught, my pulse thrumming so loud I swore he could hear it.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

The game wrapped up not long after, the final buzzer sounding as players slowed, their adrenaline cooling. Phillip tugged his helmet off, shaking damp hair from his forehead. Girls rushed toward the edge of the rink, calling his name, begging for his attention.

Reagan nudged me. “See? He’s got plenty of fans. Leave him to them.”

“I don’t care about his entourage of fans, Reagan.” I muttered, too soft for him to hear.

But Dawn heard. She growled in my mind, sharp and demanding. You should care. He’s ours. We should claim him before anyone else dares.

Stop it, I hissed inwardly. He’s Reagan’s best friend. It’s not happening. Stop pushing it. 

The locker room doors swung open a few minutes later, and the players began to filter out. Laughter, the thud of equipment bags, the sharp scent of sweat and adrenaline. And then, him.

Phillip.

Even out of uniform, he commanded the space. His eyes found Reagan immediately, a grin tugging at his lips. “Hey, man. You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Reagan said, clapping him on the back. Then he gestured to me. “Liz came too. Don't get any ideas though."

I groaned. “Reagan.”

Phillip’s gaze flicked to me, lingering just a fraction too long. My skin prickled beneath the weight of it. His smile softened, subtle, private, but then it vanished, replaced with the practiced coolness he always wore.

“Relax, Reagan,” Phillip said evenly, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “I know the rules.”

Something in my chest cracked at those words.

The conversation shifted, Reagan joking about the game, Phillip laughing at his jabs, but I barely heard any of it. My wolf pressed harder, clawing at my resolve.

When Reagan’s phone buzzed, he cursed under his breath. “Gotta take this. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

The second he disappeared down the hall, silence stretched between us.

Phillip cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t look at me like that, Princess.” His voice was low, almost rough.

My stomach flipped. “How am I looking at you?” 

He smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Like you want something you can’t have.”

Heat scorched my cheeks. I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came. Dawn purred, enjoying my silence.

Before I could gather a reply, Reagan’s voice echoed down the hall, calling Phillip back. He gave me one last unreadable look before brushing past, leaving me breathless and aching.

Alone again, I pressed my hands against the railing, grounding myself. My heart thundered, and Dawn’s voice was a molten whisper in my mind.

Rules don’t matter. Not when he’s ours. Not when we can claim him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, admitting the truth I’d tried so hard to bury.

I wanted him. I wanted Phillip. 

Badly.

Even if it broke every rule.