Chapter 5 — A Deal Beneath the Ice

POV: Evangeline "Eva" Laurent

The next morning, I walked into the arena office to start my scheduled shift, but I stopped near the entrance when I heard raised voices coming from inside the main equipment room.

"You were out on the ice pushing yourself late last night, Lucas," Coach Miller said, holding a printed medical report and pointing his finger right at Lucas's chest, "the principal saw the security log, and he told me you were limping during morning classes today."

"I was just doing some extra conditioning drills, Coach," Lucas answered, keeping his voice calm while leaning against the wooden desk, "I felt completely fine, and my leg is totally fine right now."

"Don't lie to me, Lucas," Coach Miller replied, stepping closer and shaking his head, "if you pull a muscle or collapse like that during the regular season games, you are getting suspended from the team instantly, and if you get suspended, you lose your athletic scholarship and your spot on the roster."

"I can handle my training schedule," Lucas said, taking a deep breath and looking down at the floor, "I just had a small muscle cramp, and it won't happen again, I promise you."

"If I see you limping one more time, or if I find out you are training alone after hours without proper medical approval, I will bench you for the rest of the semester," the coach warned, turning around and walking right past me out the door without saying another word.

I stepped into the room, setting my clipboard on the table while Lucas grabbed his gym bag and leaned against the locker, looking completely exhausted.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?" Lucas asked, turning his head to look at me.

"It was hard not to hear him shouting from the hallway," I replied, pulling out the daily rink timesheet to mark my shift, "you shouldn't be training at night anyway if your body is struggling to recover."

"I don't have a choice, Eva," he said, taking a step toward my table and lowering his voice so nobody else could hear us, "I need to stay at the top of my game to keep my scholarship, but my hamstring is still tight from last night, and I can't let the team trainer find out or he will report it to the coach."

"That is your personal problem to fix," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on my papers, "I am just here to check equipment, sign sheets, and keep my academic grant so I can finish high school."

"You know how to handle athletic recovery," Lucas said, leaning both hands on the table and looking directly at me, "you helped me fix that cramp in five minutes last night, so I want to make a deal with you."

"I am not making any deals with you," I said, pulling my papers away from his hands.

"Just listen to me for one minute," Lucas urged, keeping his voice steady, "you help me stretch and manage my muscle recovery in secret after regular practice hours so I don't get injured or benched by the coach, and in return, I will make sure nobody at Northcrest Academy bothers you, asks you about your past, or gives you a hard time."

"I don't need your protection," I told him, looking him in the eyes.

"You do, though," Lucas said softly, "the hockey team controls half the social life at this school, and if people figure out who you really are, they are going to start asking questions, taking pictures, and bringing up old news stories, but if I am standing next to you, every single student here will leave you completely alone."

I stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how badly I wanted to get through this final year without anyone harassing me or posting about my past online, and how much power the hockey captain had over the school culture.

"Fine," I said, letting out a long breath, "we meet late at night for thirty minutes of recovery work only, you do exactly what I tell you to do for your muscles, and you keep everyone else away from me."

"It's a deal," Lucas said, reaching out to hand me the secondary key ring for the side doors, "we start tonight after the varsity team clears out."

We gathered our bags and walked out of the office together, moving down the l hallway toward the main lobby exit, but as we approached the doors, a visiting player from another school's hockey team walked past us while talking on his phone.

He glanced at me, stopped walking for a second, and turned to his teammate with a laugh, speaking loudly enough for his voice to carry down the quiet corridor.

"Funny," the guy said, pointing toward me while turning back to his friend, "wasn't that the famous figure skating girl whose career ended because of that broken ice gate at the national qualifiers?"

My feet stopped moving instantly, and the air felt like it was sucked right out of my chest while my hands went completely cold.

"What did you just say?" Lucas asked, turning around to face the visiting player with a narrowed gaze.

"Nothing, man," the guy said, holding his hands up and walking away toward the locker rooms, "just remembered the news story from last year."

I stood completely still in the middle of the hallway, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs while Lucas turned back to look at my pale face.

Only three people had ever known about the broken latch on the ice gate that night—me, my former coach, and the official inspector who examined the rink floor after the accident—and I had never mentioned that specific detail to a single person at Northcrest Academy.

Someone at this school knew what really happened the night my life fell apart, and they were standing somewhere inside the building right now.