Chapter 6

Jace

By the time I reached the hockey arena, I’d repeated the same sentence to myself at least a dozen times.

Tutoring was over.

That was it.

One hour. One essay. One conversation.

Nothing had changed.

It certainly wasn’t enough to make me rethink two years’ worth of opinions about Ava Peters.

I pushed through the locker room doors and dropped my hockey bag onto the bench in front of my stall.

Around me, the familiar routine had already started. Shoulder pads clattered against wooden benches, someone argued over whose turn it was to sharpen skates, and Corey was trying to convince everyone that Coach Daniels secretly smiled after victories when nobody was looking.

“He does not,” Aaron said.

“He absolutely does.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s because he waits until you’re gone.”

I shook my head as I pulled my practice jersey over my shoulders.

“You two have way too much free time.”

Corey grinned.

“Says the guy who just spent an hour on what I’m assuming was the most romantic tutoring session in Blackwood history.”

I stopped halfway through tightening my skate laces.

“It was English.”

“So you’re saying there wasn’t candlelight?”

“There wasn’t electricity going through his body every time she looked at him either,” Aaron added with a laugh.

I looked up.

“You two finished?”

“Not even close,” Corey replied. “How’s our favorite Puck Bunny?”

The nickname landed differently than it usually did.

For the first time, it didn’t make me want to laugh.

Instead, an image flashed through my mind.

Ava sitting across from me in the library, sketching little circles on a piece of paper while explaining essays like hockey plays. She’d been so focused she hadn’t even realized she had a streak of pencil graphite across the side of her hand.

Without thinking, I’d almost pointed it out.

Almost.

“What?” Corey asked.

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re thinking.”

“I’m allowed to think.”

“Not usually this hard.”

Before I could answer, Coach Daniels stepped into the locker room.

“Enough talking.”

The room immediately quieted.

“We’ve got Silver Ridge next week, and if any of you think they’re going to hand us a win because you’re Blackwood, you’ve already lost.”

He looked around the room, making eye contact with each player.

“I want crisp passing.”

“Smart decisions.”

“And I want shots that actually hit the net.”

His gaze settled on me.

“Walker.”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Lead by example.”

“I will.”

“I expect you to.”

Ten minutes later, I pushed onto the ice.

The cold air hit my face, instantly familiar, instantly calming. If there was one place where my brain usually behaved itself, it was here. Everything slowed down. The noise disappeared. Hockey had always made sense in a way the rest of life never quite managed.

Coach blew the whistle.

“Passing drill!”

Aaron fed the puck across the blue line.

I caught it cleanly, settled it onto my stick, and drove toward the faceoff circle.

“Shoot!”

I drew the stick back.

Then paused.

Ava’s voice drifted into my head.

“Your bottom hand is too high. You’re losing power because you’re fighting your own stick.”

I frowned.

Try it.

Onyx sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

“I’m not taking hockey advice from her.”

You already did.

I sighed under my breath and shifted my lower hand a few inches farther down the shaft.

It felt…

Different.

Looser.

More balanced.

I released the shot.

The puck rocketed off the blade and slammed into the top corner of the net with a sharp metallic ping.

Coach Daniels didn’t even blow the whistle.

He simply folded his arms.

“Again.”

Aaron tossed me another puck.

Same grip.

Same release.

Same result.

This one snapped the water bottle sitting on top of the goal, sending it tumbling onto the ice.

A low whistle came from somewhere behind me.

“Nice shot,” one of the defensemen muttered.

Coach skated toward me.

“What changed?”

“Nothing.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“Funny.”

He picked up the fallen water bottle.

“Because you’ve been fighting your release for almost two weeks.”

“I worked it out.”

“So you finally listened.”

“I guess.”

Coach studied me for another second before skating away.

“Whatever you’re doing…”

He pointed toward the net.

“Keep doing it.”

As practice continued, I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation in the library.

Not because Ava had been right.

Okay…

Partly because she’d been right.

But mostly because she hadn’t rubbed it in.

She could have.

Instead, she’d simply explained why.

That wasn’t something I was used to.

Most people either agreed with me because I was the future Alpha…

Or argued because they wanted to prove they weren’t intimidated.

Ava had done neither.

She’d just…

Taught me.

She’s patient.

Onyx’s voice echoed quietly through my thoughts.

“She’s stubborn.”

So are you.

“She talks too much.”

A long pause.

You listened to every word.

I fired another shot.

This one rang off the crossbar.

Coach groaned dramatically.

“Walker!”

“My bad.”

“You planning on breaking my goal before Friday?”

“No, Coach.”

“Good.”

“They’re expensive.”

Laughter rippled across the ice.

By the end of practice, sweat soaked through my undershirt despite the chill of the arena. My legs burned, my shoulders ached, and for the first time all day, my head felt clear.

At least…

Until I stepped off the ice.

Because as I glanced toward the empty section of seats behind the glass, I found myself wondering if Ava would be there for the Silver Ridge game.

The thought annoyed me enough that I immediately grabbed my gear and headed for the locker room.

You looked for her.

“No, I didn’t.”

You did.

“She likes hockey.”

She does.

“That’s all.”

Onyx didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

The silence somehow said more than words ever could.

As I pulled my hoodie over my head, I made myself one promise.

Yesterday, I’d let Ava Peters get inside my head.

Today had been an exception.

Tomorrow…

Things were going back to normal.

I’d focus on hockey.

On classes.

On becoming the Alpha everyone expected me to be.

Ava Peters was just my English tutor.

Nothing more.

Somewhere deep inside me, Onyx gave a slow, amused rumble.

For reasons I couldn’t explain…

That sound made me far less confident than my own promise.