LOGINAfter catching her boyfriend lip-locked with a pom-pom princess, Skylar Hayes swore off athletes for good. But when her brother’s best friend and incredibly charming captain from a rival team offer her the ultimate revenge plan and an irresistible distraction, she’s thrown into a game she never intended to play. What starts as a scheme to mess with her ex’s ego quickly spirals into late-night confessions, locker room secrets and heated moments she swore she’d never allow again. But the ice is thin when hearts are involved and Skylar’s not the only one skating too close to the edge.
View MoreThe hospital smelled like new beginnings and disinfectant.Outside, snowflakes danced against the window, soft and silent, just like the night Ryans proposed to me. The clock on the wall ticked lazily past midnight, but time didn’t matter anymore.What mattered was the tiny heartbeat echoing faintly through the room.And Ryans’ hand, gripping mine like he was the one about to push a whole human into the world.“Breathe, Sky,” the nurse said gently.“Tell him that,” I groaned through a contraction, shooting Ryans a glare.He flinched, eyes wide, hair messy like he’d wrestled a bear on the way here. “I am breathing!”“Not enough!” I hissed.The nurse laughed softly. “You’re doing great, honey. Just one more push.”That phrase — just one more push — felt like a cosmic joke. I’d been pushing for what felt like seven years.But then, the room shifted. The air thickened with something raw and holy.And a cry — sharp and perfect — split the quiet.My breath hitched.The doctor smiled, holdin
One year later.Boston always smells like promise and coffee.Always. A year after graduation and it was what I kept thinking about today. From the floor-to-ceiling window of our apartment, I can see the sky dusted in gold, the Charles River glinting like it’s showing off. Somewhere below, someone’s playing a saxophone, the kind that sounds both lonely and beautiful.The apartment I was in right now with Ryan's wasn’t fancy. It’s warm. Lived in. There’s paint on the walls from my late-night creative bursts, and hockey gear in places it absolutely shouldn’t be… like beside the shoe rack for instance. It was home for the both of us. “Sky,” Ryans called from the kitchen. “Have you seen my tie?”“Check the microwave,” I replied without looking up from my sketchpad.He poked his head out from behind the counter, grinning. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”“Depends,” I said, doodling the last line of a curve. “Did you check the bathroom mirror first?”He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re
Peace feels strange at first.Like learning how to breathe after you’ve forgotten what air tastes like.After everything that had happened — the breakup, the truth about our fathers, the chaos and peace of the championship, Coach Donovan’s sickness—I kept expecting something else to fall apart.But nothing did.Ryans and I fell into something steady, quiet, and terrifyingly beautiful.Mornings meant coffee and his hoodie draped over my shoulders as he teased me about the paint on my fingers while I painted. Afternoons meant me sketching designs on the floor of his dorm while he paced, muttering about strategies for next season. That if he was not reading.And nights… nights meant peace. Not the loud, desperate kind. It was the simple, wordless kind that comes when you’re beside someone who knows your silences.Sometimes I’d catch him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking — a small smile tugging at his lips, as though he couldn’t quite believe I was real…that we were true. It w
The rink was silent again.No crowd. No flashbulbs. No chants.Just the faint hum of the overhead lights and the echo of my own footsteps against the ice as I walked on the rink. My skates dangled from one hand, blades clinking softly like chimes. I’d told the team I’d lock up tonight, though what I really wanted was to stand in this place — this temple of noise now hushed — and remember what winning had felt like.Funny thing about victory was that it’s loud in the moment but afterward, it leaves you hollow.Especially when you don’t have the one person you want to share it with.The ice glowed faintly under the arena lights and felt like a vast mirror that reflected my solitude. I took a few steps forward even as I inhaled the smell of cold metal and disinfectant that was thick in the air. My throat tightened, the weight of everything — Coach’s illness, Skylar, the endless noise, the ache in my chest — pressing down on me again.I had won only hours ago and yet, my heart was still






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