5

Avery’s POV

The ice is colder than I remember.

My skates scrape clumsily across the surface, every wobble echoing in my bones. I used to own this place fluid strides, confident cuts, the girl who never faltered. Now, I feel like a stranger.

“Pathetic,” Jax mutters from the blue line. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the word carries, sharp as a slap.

I shoot him a glare. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“A little?” He smirks, lazily gliding toward me. Effortless. Like the ice bends for him. “You look like Bambi on roller skates.”

Heat surges to my cheeks. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am.” He flicks a puck in my direction. “Rule number one: stop whining.”

The puck skitters across the ice. Instinct kicks in I catch it on my stick, handle it without thinking. For a second, it feels right. Then my balance falters, and I stumble.

Jax’s laugh cuts through the rink. Low, amused, maddening. It was like him teasing me, except it wasn't hurtful in a way. 

“Shut up,” I snap, scrambling to stay upright.

He circles me like a predator, stick tapping the ice. “Not until you stop skating like a toddler. Again.”

The next hour is torture. He drills me harder than any coach ever did. Stops, starts, stickhandling drills, sprint laps that leave my lungs burning. Every mistake earns a sarcastic quip.

“You call that a shot? My grandma hits harder.”

“You gonna cry, Hart, or you gonna skate?”

“You want that scholarship? Prove it.”

Each jab digs under my skin, fueling me. My muscles ache, sweat drips down my neck, but I refuse to quit. Not with him watching.

By the time I finally land a clean shot, it rattles into the net with a satisfying clang. My chest heaves, but adrenaline floods through me.

Jax nods once. “Better.”

It’s not praise, not really. But my stupid heart soaks it up anyway.

We collapse on the bench for a breather, both flushed from the effort.

“You’re insane,” I mutter, wiping my face with my sleeve.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

He smirks, leaning back with his arms spread across the bench like he owns it. “You’ll thank me later when you don’t embarrass yourself at tryouts.”

“You really think this’ll work?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend.

His eyes catch mine, sharp and unflinching. “Only if you stop holding back.”

The words linger, heavy with something unsaid. I stared back at him in the eyes, searching for something I couldn't possibly name. Something I had no idea I was looking for. As if gaining my stance, I break the gaze first, staring down at my skates.

The creak of the arena door snaps my head up.

Ethan strides in, stick in hand, like he belongs here. His easy smile vanishes when his eyes land on Jax and then on me.

“What the hell is this?” he demands.

My stomach knots. “It’s...”

“Practice,” Jax cuts in smoothly, rising to his feet. His smirk is taunting, calculated. “She’s training. With me.”

Ethan’s jaw tightens. “You don’t get near her, Reid. You hear me?”

“Oh?” Jax tilts his head, amused. “And who’s gonna stop me? You?”

The air thickens. Ethan’s grip tightens on his stick. Jax steps closer, daring him. Two storms are about to collide.

My heart hammers.

What was happen here right now? Why was my heat beating so fast I can barely control it? 

“Stop!” The word rips out of me before I can think. I skate between them, planting myself in the middle. My legs tremble, but I force my voice steady. “Enough. I’m not your pawn, Ethan. And Jax doesn’t pretend this is about me. This is your ego talking.”

Silence.

Both boys glare at each other over my shoulder, but neither moves. For the first time, it feels like they actually hear me.

"Why exactly are you guys fighting?" I ask, even though I knew I didn't want to hear the answer.

“Yeah, Ethan, why are we fighting?” Jax ask, a smirk lighting his face.

Oh I would do anything to wipe that dirty smirk off his face.

Ethan stared at us for a while, his eyes staring daggers at Jax. Boy if looks could kill, Jax would have dropped to the ground by now. 

“Is this how we are going to do this now? What has come over you, Ava?” he asks.

I scoffed. Now he has a pet name for me?

“Ethan, please if you don't mind, we were practicing,” I said, sighing. I don't have time to deal with this right now. 

“Really?” he raises his brow, unsure of what I just said. 

“Really, Ethan,” I say, staring at Jax so he wouldn't say anything more. 

Ethan leaves eventually, muttering something about “bad choices” and slamming the door. The sound echoes long after he’s gone.

I sag with relief, turning back toward the ice. Jax is watching me, unreadable.

“You’ve got more fight than I thought,” he says finally.

I bristle. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

We finish the drills in tense silence, the rink slowly emptying as the night deepens. By the time I unlace my skates, the place is deserted just me, Jax, and the echo of our blades on ice.

He steps closer, too close. My breath catches.

“You’re scared of me,” he murmurs, voice low enough to sink straight into my bones.

I force myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not ”

“Good.” His smirk is slow, dangerous. “You should be.”

The words hang between us, sharp and electric.

And for the first time, I can’t tell if he’s warning me… or daring me.