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ICE THIRTY-FOUR: SHATTERED GLASS.
Last Updated:
2025-08-21 01:56:00
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SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-NINE: THE CONFESSION.
THANE'S POV:Growing up, my mother had been a perfectionist who'd vacuum the same room twice and organize her spice rack alphabetically and by expiration date. I'd inherited that need for order, that physical discomfort when things were chaotic."This is insane," I muttered, but I was already moving. "She's sick, not dead. She'll understand."I started in the living room, trying not to judge too harshly as I gathered takeout containers that belonged in a museum of food archaeology. The magazines went into neat stacks—after I quickly flipped past the ones with my face on them, because that was still deeply weird. Moving to the kitchenette, I gagged at the state of her sink. How did someone accumulate this many dishes in such a small space? I rolled up my sleeves and got to work, scrubbing and organizing while trying not to think about what some of those stains might be.In the bedroom, I was stripping dirty sheets when something moved in the corner."JESUS CHRIST!" I jumped backward,
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-EIGHT: PANIC MODE.
THANE’S POV:What the hell was I supposed to do with a passed-out girl in an apartment that looked like a crime scene to my OCD-riddled brain?“Of course. Karma finally caught up with me,” I muttered as I lowered Madison onto the chair, gagging, my eyes watering from the stench.Luckily, I'd caught her in a way that kept her clean, but me? looked like a daycare casualty—slimed, stained, and traumatized. Chunks of... I couldn't even think about what was sliding down my chest. My skin was crawling, literally crawling, and my stomach churned. . This whole apartment was a nightmare.Instead, I stood there, gagging.“Perfect. Just perfect. She decorates her walls with my face, and now she’s decorating me with her stomach contents.”Growing up with my mother's neat house where even the coasters had designated spots, this felt like being dropped into chaos incarnate.I peeled off the ruined shirt with two fingers, holding it as far from my body as possible, and dropped it over the vomit pudd
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-SEVEN: FEVER, POSTER AND DISASTER.
MADISON'S POV:The incident at the gala wasn't what killed me inside—it was seeing evil people like the Wallaces happy and whole while I crumbled. I'd resorted to finding a private investigator, more serious than ever, though I'd been meeting nothing but dead ends since the day I set my mind to using one. I finally stumbled upon one that looked nothing like someone who could get the job done, but left with no choice and desperate, I went with him.I started pulling away from Maverick and Thane. For sanity, for survival, for anything that felt like control. Especially after Maverick's mom paid me an unexpected visit, hurling insults and mockery at me. She'd vividly warned me to stay away from her son, both as friends or whatever she thought was going on."I'm his mother and I know what's best for him. That means I know you'll be the worst thing to happen to him,"* she had said, refusing to sit. She claimed my house looked like a place infested with bugs. *"Standing here is a risk beca
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-SIX: WHEN SILENCE ANSWERS.
THANE'S POV:Sleep didn’t come. My body was bone-deep tired, but my brain wouldn’t shut off.I’d gotten home, showered, stretched out in bed but sleep was my enemy. I stared at the ceiling until my eyes burned, behind my eyelids, replaying every second—Madison stumbling in those heels, her shoulders trembling under the streetlight, how fragile and small she looked walking alone through empty streets. We'd followed at a distance until she disappeared safely inside, but the image haunted me."What’s wrong with you, Thane?"I muttered into the dark.Coward. Pathetic, spineless coward.I'd handled hostile crowds screaming for my blood. Faced down opponents twice my size who wanted nothing more than to put me through the boards. Survived career-threatening injuries that would have broken weaker men. So why couldn't I handle one conversation with a woman who barely reached my chest? I was hiding from her like a scared kid.It was pathetic.The sheets tangled around my legs as I thrashed, fr
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-FIVE: A COWARD.
THANE'S POV:It wasn’t my father’s flattery that kept me at the gala. If I was being honest with myself, it was the fleeting glimpses of Madison across the room—moments I wished I could erase, yet found myself chasing like a desperate fool. Each time I caught her laughing beside Maverick, her hand brushing his arm, it was like swallowing glass—sharp, jagged, impossible to ignoreThe men’s restroom was as extravagant as the rest of the place. Neat and beautifully decorated. Even the hand towels felt like silk between my fingers.I had just turned off the faucet, shaking the water from my hands, when the door slammed open. Maverick rushed in, chest heaving like he’d been running. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air. His hands raked through his hair, wrecking what had been perfectly styled. This wasn’t casual concern—this was terror."What the hell—" I started.He didn’t even glance at me, muttering under his breath, "Have you seen her?" “Who?” I straightened. “My girl,”
SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK. ICE THIRTY-FOUR: SHATTERED GLASS.
MADISON’S POV:"Madison," Maverick said with that easy smile he used whenever he was trying to make me feel at ease. It suddenly felt foreign, "I'd like you to officially meet my mother, Dr. Helen Hall."The words hung in the air like smoke, choking me with their implications. I stared between them—Maverick's warm brown eyes, Dr. Hall's cold gray ones—searching for some explanation that would make this make sense.I blinked. “Your mother? But your last name is Torres," I said weakly. "Hers is Hall," my confusion slipped through.Maverick scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that.” His voice dipped lower. “My father passed away when I was nine. Mom remarried after a few years, but she wanted me to keep my father’s name. Torres.”Before I could say anything, Dr. Hall’s painted lips tightened. “Maverick,” she called his attention. "You're sharing far too much personal information with someone who doesn't need to know it."The casual dismissal in her tone, even though they weren’t
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