Little Cracks

Chapter 4

They stood still between the trucks, their hearts pounding, their eyes wide with fear. The parking lot suddenly felt too bright, too open. Any second, someone could come back.

“Go,” Zane whispered, his voice tight. “Now.”

Jaxon gave one quick nod and slipped away into the darkness. Zane climbed into his truck, his hands shaking as he gripped the wheel. He drove home staring at every set of headlights in his mirror, sure someone was following him.

The next morning the rumors started.

Both locker rooms buzzed with whispers. Teammates laughed and joked, but the jokes carried a deep edge that made Zane's stomach twist.

“Did anyone see the captains talking after practice last night?” one Thunder Wolves asked with a grin.

Another teammate shrugged. “Probably just arguing again. Those two can’t stand each other.”

A Wolf player added, “Heard they were real close in the parking lot. Maybe they’re finally becoming friends.” He laughed loud, but his eyes swept around like he was trying to make sure no other person was listening.

Zane kept his head down in his own locker room and said nothing. He laced his skates harder than necessary. Jaxon did the same, pretending he couldn’t hear the teasing. The jokes felt too close to the truth. One wrong word and everything could explode.

They avoided each other completely in public.

During joint practices they stayed on opposite ends of the ice. If their eyes met by accident, they looked away fast. In the hallway before a press conference they passed without a single word or glance. The tension between them grew thicker than ever.

But on the ice they played meaner than before.

Zane threw bigger hits. Jaxon responded with sharper checks. Every collision felt personal now, like they were trying to punish each other for the secret feelings burning between them. The crowd loved the extra fire. Commentators called it the best rivalry in years. But only Zane and Jaxon knew the real reason behind every angry shove.

They kept avoiding each other... pretending like nothing ever existed between them.

Then came the tough away game against a strong rival team.

The arena was loud and hostile. Both merged-team… Thunder Wolves and Storm Hawks… played like their lives depended on it. Zane led his teammates with sharp commands. Jaxon skated across the ice, dodging checks and setting up plays.

In the second period, Jaxon took a bad fall after a heavy hit. He twisted his ankle hard when he went down. Pain shot through his leg, but he clenched his teeth and skated off the ice without limping too obviously. He didn’t want his teammates worrying. He definitely didn’t want Zane noticing too.

But Zane noticed.

From the bench he saw the way Jaxon carried his left foot every time he pushed off. During the timeout he kept glancing over, his jaw tight.

The game ended in a close win for their side, but Jaxon looked pale by the final buzzer. He tried to walk normally to the visitors’ locker room, but the limp grew worse with every step.

Most players showered fast and headed to the bus. Soon the room emptied out. Only Jaxon stayed behind, sitting on a bench with his skate off, his ankle already swelling.

The door opened quietly.

Zane stepped in, still in his gear, helmet under his arm. He scanned the room to make sure they were alone.

“You’re hurt,” he said simply.

Jaxon looked up, surprised. “I’m fine. Go catch your bus.”

Zane ignored him.

He grabbed the roll of tape from the medical kit on the counter and knelt in front of him. Without asking, he took Jaxon's foot gently in his hands and started wrapping the ankle with careful, even layers. His fingers moved slowly, making sure the tape was tight enough to support but not too tight to cut off blood.

Jaxon watched him, his breath caught in his throat. The touch felt too gentle, too caring... for people who were meant to be enemies. The rough captain who slammed him into boards every game was now handling his injured ankle like it was something fragile.

Their eyes met.

For a long moment neither of them said a word. The only sound was the distant noise of the arena emptying out.

Jaxon's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Zane's wrist, stopping him abruptly.

“Why do you care?” he asked, his voice low and rough with confusion. “We’re supposed to hate each other.”

Zane didn’t respond right away.

He dropped the tape he was holding, his eyes locked on Jaxon's in a thick, still silence.

Then he smiled… like the question meant nothing.

“Well that's cause I do not want my favorite rival limping in our next game.”

Jaxon's cheeks flushed… a mix of anger and embarrassment. “You're out of your mind.”

Zane remained silent… nodding quietly. 

Then, without a word, he leaned forward and gave Jaxon a soft kiss… slowly, tenderly... nothing like their usual hungry clashes. It was full of everything they couldn’t say out loud.

Just then… in the heat of the moment, the locker room door swung open with a loud creak.

One of Jaxon's Hawks teammates stood there, his mouth open in utter shock. He had seen the kiss clearly… the gentle way Zane held Jaxon's ankle, the way their lips had just touched.

Could it be?