LOGINThe weight room buzzed with movement, the sound of metal clinking, trainers calling out numbers, and the occasional groan from one of the newer recruits.
Fitness evaluations were underway, and Noah was in his element.
Pull-ups? Easy. He cleared the bar like it was nothing, his arms pumping with practiced power. Bench press? He didn’t even blink at the weight the trainers loaded onto the bar. He blew past the expected max, earning a few surprised looks from the group. Vertical jump test? His long legs had the kind of explosive strength that could've made him a basketball star. He launched skyward with effortless grace, drawing a low whistle from one of the assistants.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mackenzie—Mac—standing with his arms crossed. The same guy who had cracked jokes earlier. When Noah landed his final jump and the trainer called out the top-tier score, Mac gave him a sheepish look.
"Alright, alright," he muttered, nudging another player. "Remind me not to mouth off next time."
Noah offered a brief smirk. He wasn’t one to gloat, but at twenty-two, he was in the best shape of his life, and today he felt it. Every movement felt precise. Controlled. Efficient.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall across the gym. His shorts sat low on his hips, his torso gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. His muscles, hard-earned from years of disciplined training, flexed and relaxed with every rep. He wasn’t particularly vain, but he understood what his body represented. It was his tool. His career. His legacy in the making.
Sterling Belmont’s presence had been constant. He and Jessica stood near the far end of the gym, observing each station. They were watching everyone, or at least, they should have been. But Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that Belmont’s piercing gaze lingered just a little longer on him.
Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was the heat of being evaluated.
Maybe it was something else.
His turn wrapped, and Noah moved to the side to towel off, catching his breath. The heavily tattooed defenseman he’d noticed earlier sat nearby, and without lifting his head, offered Noah a bottle of water.
"That was impressive," the guy said, his voice gravelly but not unfriendly. "Ashton Graves. People call me Ash."
Noah took the bottle. "Thanks. You didn’t look too bad out there yourself."
Ash shrugged. "I get by. You’re fast and strong. That’s rare in a kid your age."
"Been training for this since I could walk."
Ash nodded, leaning against the wall beside him and scratching at his dark beard. "You notice how involved our new owner is? Apparently, he used to play. Got injured. Now he watches us like it’s all he’s got left."
Noah turned to look across the gym. Sterling Belmont was still there. Still watching. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, posture statuesque, face unreadable. But his eyes? They were locked on Noah. Demanding. Powerful. As if he were dissecting him, piece by piece. Not just his performance, but his body. His potential. His presence.
Then their eyes met.
And Sterling turned away.
A shiver ran down Noah’s spine, quick and unexpected.
***
They were introduced to their coach just before hitting the ice.
"Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier," the man said, jogging out onto the rink with a clipboard tucked under his arm. He looked to be in his late thirties, trim and fit, with a few days of beard growth and a genuinely warm smile. "My wife just had our second kid. I’m operating on about three hours of sleep."
He extended a hand. "Coach Jensen. You can call me Mike."
Despite the fatigue, Coach Jensen was sharp. As the players took their places for the on-ice tests, his instructions were clear, his expectations high.
The first drill was a 44-meter sprint. Noah exploded off the line like a rocket, his skates cutting into the ice with precision. Then came the aerobic drills, testing endurance and control, followed by backward skating sequences.
Noah kept up, even excelled, his name landing at the top of more than one list.
"That stride," Coach Jensen said, whistling. "Rivers, you’ve got power. You pivot quick, too. Just need to polish that backward technique."
Noah appreciated the attention to detail. Backward skating had always been his weak point, but Coach Jensen offered a few technical tips that clicked almost instantly. By the third run, he was already improving.
By the end of the ice session, sweat was dripping down his back, but satisfaction settled into his chest. He belonged here.
In the locker room afterward, players peeled off pads and jerseys, dragging themselves into the showers. Noah didn’t hesitate. He undressed with the same quiet confidence he carried onto the ice. Shyness wasn’t in his nature, and besides, half the team was already naked.
Still, he felt it.
The weight of that gaze again. Cold and hot all at once.
Through the glass window of the coach’s office, Sterling stood, deep in conversation with Coach Jensen. Jessica was seated nearby, flipping pages in a folder.
Noah toweled off slowly, casually, aware of the eyes, unsure what to make of them.
As he zipped up his hoodie and started to leave, Jessica caught him by the exit.
"Hey, Noah. A few of us are heading out for drinks tonight to celebrate the new season. Our generous new owner is covering the tab. You in?"
Before he could answer, Lukas clapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, man. You gotta come. It always starts chill and ends in some overpriced strip club. It’s a thing. You in?"
Noah hesitated for a beat, then smirked.
"Sure. I’m in."
Max was already dressed for the game, pads strapped tight under his jersey, hair still damp from his pre-game shower. He’d slipped away from the noise of the locker room and found a quiet spot behind the equipment cages, far enough from the main hallway that no one would overhear. The concrete wall was cool against his back as he leaned there, phone pressed to his ear.It rang.And rang.And rang.Then, miraculously, it picked up.A laid-back voice answered. “Yeah, this is Noah.”Max straightened. “Hi. Noah. My name’s Max Sullivan. I play for Greyhollow.”A short pause, then recognition clicked in. “Yeah, Sully! The goalie, right?”“Yeah, that’s right.”Noah chuckled. “Yeah I remember you, man. What’s up?”Max got straight to it. “Right. Well, I decided I finally need to get serious about hockey. I’ve been playing backup goalie my whole career. Always have. This is my senior year.”“Mm-hmm.”“Look, I’ve been coasting… but I scored a goalie goal last night.”“No shit… yeah, I saw that
They walked to the sushi place in a loose cluster, the sun warm on Jamie’s shoulders. Ava was still buzzing with chaotic energy, Zach hovering near her and Max walking beside Jamie with that easy, confident stride that made everything feel both safe and terrifying.She reached into her bag and pulled out a shiny new romance novel, sighing at the shirtless man on the cover and his eight-pack covered in baby oil.“That’s not a realistic body type,” Zach grumbled, gesturing at the book.Max glanced over and shrugged. “Well, technically it is possible…”Zach snorted. “You don’t have that either.”“Yeah, I like carbs,” Max said easily, “but seriously—low body fat, good lighting, consistent training… it’s not impossible. Just hope you’re looking forward to all the scenes where he’s constantly bench-pressing the furniture.”Zach laughed. “Yeah, and constantly drinking protein shakes.”Ava made an outraged noise. “Excuse me, this man has emotional depth!”Jamie couldn’t stop the small twitch
Jamie was still lying in the grass, heart hammering, when he looked up and found Max staring down at him.Their eyes locked. For one breathless second the world narrowed to green eyes and the faint split on Max’s lower lip, the one Jamie had cleaned with trembling fingers last night. Then Ava groaned and started untangling her limbs from his.Zach offered her a hand up with an awkward little smile. “You good?”Ava took it, brushing leaves off her sweater. “Yeah. Perfect timing, though.”Max extended his own hand to Jamie.Jamie hesitated half a second before taking it. The moment their palms met, Max pulled him up in one smooth, effortless motion. Jamie felt suddenly feather-light, like gravity had taken the day off. His free hand flew out on instinct and landed squarely on Max’s chest. There was solid muscle under that soft hoodie fabric, warm from his morning skate.Heat flooded Jamie’s face. He was close. Too close. Close enough to smell the faint trace of soap and ice. Close en
Max sat in his Golf, engine idling in the near-empty rink lot.He’d inhaled a protein bar on the drive over, chocolate peanut butter, the wrapper now crumpled on the passenger seat next to his stick bag. He tossed it into the back without looking, wiped sticky fingers on his sweats, and pulled out his phone.It was too early. But he did it anyway.The line rang twice.“Hey, Lila. It’s Max Sullivan.”A groggy, irritated voice answered. “Max? What the—do you know what time it is?”Max winced. “Yeah. I’m sorry to call so early, but I need to ask a favor.”Lila groaned, long and theatrical. “You know most people would have the decency to show up with breakfast when they ask for a favor at ass-o’clock.”“I will,” he said quickly. “As soon as I finish morning skate. I’ll drop by with breakfast.”Another huff, half amused, half murderous. “What do you want, Sully?”Max exhaled through his nose. “Do you have a phone number for Noah Rivers?”Silence. Then, incredulous: “You want Noah’s phone
Jamie woke in stages. His eyes cracked open, blurry with sleep, and for one blessed heartbeat everything felt safe and dreamlike. Then memory slammed into him.He shot upright so fast the blanket pooled around his waist, heart hammering against his ribs. The room spun once, then settled. Empty. Quiet. Just his desk, his neatly stacked notebooks, the faint gray light of a Saturday morning leaking through the blinds.It was a dream. Relief flooded him so hard his shoulders sagged. Oh thank God.Then his gaze landed on the nightstand.His phone sat there, screen dark. A yellow Post-it was stuck crookedly to the top edge. The handwriting was messy, slanted: Message me when you wake up.Below it, a phone number.Jamie stared at the note like it might vanish if he blinked hard enough. One second. Two.Then the illusion shattered.Oh my God. It was real.The memories crashed in fast and filthy: Dane’s hand on his neck, the desk edge biting into his hip, Max bursting through the door. Max
Jamie woke to the slow, heavy shift of the mattress beside him, a low groan slipping out before his brain even caught up. Warmth. Too much warmth. His limbs felt heavy, sunk deep into sheets that smelled familiar.He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t want to. The bed was a cocoon, soft and safe in a way he hadn’t felt in months.A quiet rustle. The blanket lifted for a second, cool air brushed his bare shoulder, then settled again, tucked carefully around him like someone was trying not to wake a sleeping child.“Morning skate. Gotta go.”Jamie made a small, protesting sound into the pillow. Words felt impossible. His brain was still half-dreaming, floating somewhere between the memory of Max’s hand pinning his boxers down and the steady thump of Max’s heartbeat against his back.Max huffed a soft laugh. Fingers brushed Jamie’s hair back from his forehead—gentle, almost absent. “Go back to sleep. And don’t go anywhere today, yeah? I’ll be back later.”Jamie managed a quiet hum, already ro







