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Ice Collision
publish date:
2026-08-26 06:25:21You're not supposed to be in here."
Lena spun around, heart lurching, to find Cameron standing in the doorway of the training facility, stick slung over one shoulder, looking at her like she'd broken into his house instead of just wandered through an unlocked door.
"The door was open," she said. "That's usually an invitation."
"It's a ‘private’ facility. As in, not for stepsisters chasing story leads."
Her stomach dropped. "How do you know I'm chasing a story?"
"I don't." His eyes narrowed slightly. "But now I do. Interesting."
‘Damn it.’
She hadn't meant to end up here. She'd been at the j-school late, still turning that unknown text over in her head, ‘ask Cameron what really happened to your dad's career’, and her feet had carried her toward the athletic complex without much permission from her brain. She'd told herself she just wanted to see where he practiced. She hadn't expected the door to be unlocked, or the ice to be lit and empty and unbelievably beautiful, silver under the overhead lights, quiet in a way nothing in that house ever was.
"I wasn't chasing anything," she said. "I just wanted to see it. The ice. Sue me."
Cameron studied her for a long moment, something calculating behind his eyes, before it dissolved into something more familiar, that same slow, dangerous amusement from their first night. "You skate?"
"Not really."
"Not really, or not at all?"
"I fell down twice at a birthday party rink when I was nine and never went back."
"Tragic." He was already moving toward the bench, already pulling a second pair of skates off a rack like he'd been waiting all night for an excuse. "Come on."
"Absolutely not."
"Scared?"
"Careful," she warned. "I don't respond well to that."
"I'm counting on it." He tossed the skates at her feet, smirking. "Lace up, Carter. Let's see what you've got."
*****
She fell twice in the first five minutes, and both times Cameron laughed so hard he nearly went down with her.
"This isn't funny," she snapped, gripping the boards, knees shaking.
"It's extremely funny." He skated a slow circle around her, hands loose in his pockets, completely unbothered by ice that had turned her into a newborn deer. "You said you could skate."
"I said I fell down at a birthday party. That's a warning, not a résumé."
"Give me your hands."
"No."
"Lena." His voice dropped, softer than she expected, and he was suddenly right in front of her, palms up, waiting. "Trust me for thirty seconds. I promise it's not a trick."
She hesitated. Then, against every instinct that had kept her upright her whole life, she put her hands in his.
His fingers closed around hers, warm and sure, and he started skating backward, slow, pulling her with him. "There. See? You're not dying."
"I'm barely surviving."
"Barely surviving looks good on you."
She laughed, actually laughed, surprised out of her and for a few minutes it was easy, almost normal, the two of them gliding under the lights while he called out instructions and she ignored half of them on purpose just to hear him sigh.
Then he let go of one hand to demonstrate a turn, and she overcorrected, and the ice did what ice does.
She went down hard, except she didn't, not really, because Cameron caught her on instinct, both arms wrapping around her waist and hauling her upright against his chest in one motion, skates screeching to a stop.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Her hands had landed flat against his chest, his heart hammering fast enough that she could feel it through the fabric, and his arms were still locked around her, holding her upright, holding her ‘close’, closer than the fall required. His breath was ragged. Hers wasn't much better.
"You okay?" His voice had gone low, rough, nothing like the teasing tone from thirty seconds ago.
"I'm fine." She wasn't sure that was true. Her whole body felt lit up, static, every point of contact between them suddenly the only thing that existed.
"Lena." Her name again, that same careful way he always said it, like it meant something. His eyes dropped to her mouth, unmistakable this time, no pretending it away.
"Cameron…"
"I know." His hand came up, tucking a strand of hair back from her face, fingers grazing her jaw and lingering there. "I know I shouldn't."
"You really shouldn't."
"Tell me to stop."
She didn't. That was the problem, she opened her mouth and nothing came out except his name again, quieter this time, and he was leaning in, and she was leaning in, and the space between them had gone from inches to nothing.
"Yo, Hayes! You still in here?"
They broke apart so fast Lena nearly lost her footing again, skidding backward as Danny's voice echoed off the rink walls, footsteps approaching from the hallway.
Cameron recovered first, raking a hand through his hair, putting three careful feet of ice between them like it had always been there. "Yeah. Just showing my stepsister the facility."
Danny appeared in the doorway, eyebrows lifting at the sight of them, Lena flushed and unsteady, Cameron suddenly very interested in his own skate laces. "Uh-huh. Sure."
"It's not what it looks like," Lena said, too fast, which was somehow worse than saying nothing at all.
"Didn't say anything." Danny grinned, backing out. "Coach wants everyone out in five, by the way. They're locking up."
The door swung shut behind him, and the silence that followed felt enormous.
"That didn't happen," Cameron said finally, not looking at her.
"No. It didn't."
"Good. We're agreed."
"Completely agreed."
Neither of them moved to leave.
"Lena," he said again, quieter this time, and something about the way he said it made her chest ache. "That text you got tonight. The one about your dad." His eyes finally met hers, and whatever had almost happened on the ice was still there, humming underneath the words. "How do you know about that?"
She went very still. "How do ‘you’ know I got a text?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to, the guilt flickering across his face answered for him, and somewhere behind her ribs, something cold and sick began to spread.
"Cameron." Her voice shook. "What do you know about my father?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
And that's when the lights in the rink cut out completely, plunging them both into darkness, and somewhere near the door, a lock clicked into place.
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