Chapter 4

Sasha’s Pov

Monday morning arrived with a strange, eerie quiet that instantly put me on edge.

I walked into the West Wolves training facility carrying my heavy camera bag in one hand and a tripod tucked under my arm, bracing myself for the usual headache.

I expected Kellan West to jump out from behind a corner, flash his bright white teeth, and make some annoying comment about my camera or my serious face. I had my mental walls built up high, ready to push him back into his place like I always did.

Except, Kellan did not show up.

Well, he was there, skating hard on the ice with the rest of the team, but the moment I stepped onto the sidelines, something was completely off.

During the morning drill, I set up my tripod, struggling a little bit to lock the heavy metal legs into place. Suddenly, a pair of large hands reached out and clicked the final latch securely into position before I could even blink.

I jumped back, my heart pounding against my ribs, and looked up. It was Kellan. He was wearing his practice jersey, his hair damp with sweat, but instead of flashing his usual cocky smirk, he just gave me a small, quiet nod.

"The latch on this tripod is a bit loose, Sasha," he said calmly, his voice low and normal. "You should get it checked out so it does not drop your expensive camera."

Before I could think of a sarcastic comeback, he turned around, skated back out onto the ice, and left me standing there with my mouth slightly open.

What just happened?

That was only the beginning. All day long, the usual torment was gone. When I walked down the narrow locker room hallway with my arms full of lighting gear, Kellan did not lean against the doorframe to block my path or tease me about my outfit.

Instead, he stepped politely to the side, held the heavy door wide open for me, and watched with gentle eyes to make sure I got through safely without dropping anything.

When I yelled at the team to clear the center ice so I could get a wide-angle shot, Kellan immediately rounded up the other guys and moved them out of my way, saving me the trouble of arguing with them.

It was driving me crazy.

By the time the afternoon practice wrapped up, my brain felt like it was doing gymnastics. I packed my gear into my bag, suspicion crawling all over my skin.

People like Kellan West do not change overnight. He was the captain, a billionaire hockey star, and a professional flirt. Men like that did not just turn into polite gentlemen out of the goodness of their hearts.

“He is planning something,” I told myself, zipping up my camera bag with a sharp pull. “He thinks being nice is just a new trick to get under my skin.”

As I hoisted the heavy strap over my shoulder and started walking toward the exit, footsteps echoed behind me.

"Hey, Sasha."

I stopped and turned around. Kellan was jogging slightly to catch up, wearing a plain grey t-shirt and jeans instead of his hockey gear. He looked normal, almost approachable, which made my guard go up even higher.

"What do you want, Kellan?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "If you are going to tease me, save it. I am tired and I want to go home."

He stopped a few feet away, holding up his hands in a harmless gesture. "I am not going to tease you. I was just wondering... there is a small coffee shop down the street. The place with the green awning. Would you want to grab a cup of coffee with me after work?"

I stared at him, completely caught off guard. "Coffee? With you?"

"Yeah," he said, offering a soft, cautious smile. "Just coffee. No cameras, no hockey talk, and definitely no teasing. What do you say?"

My first instinct was to snap out a fast, harsh rejection just like I always did. “No thank you. I do not date hockey players.” But the words stuck in my throat because he didn't look arrogant. He looked almost nervous, watching me with those piercing blue eyes like he was waiting for a bomb to drop.

"No," I said firmly. "I am going straight home."

Kellan did not sigh, roll his eyes, or make a sarcastic joke about my stubbornness.

Instead, he just nodded slowly, his expression softening. "Alright. Fair enough. Have a safe drive home, Sasha."

He turned around and walked away toward the locker rooms. I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, staring after him with my jaw practically touching the floor. He... he just accepted my rejection? Without a fight?

That night, I barely slept. I kept replaying the moment in my head. Why was he acting so different? Was it a game? Was he trying some reverse psychology on me?

The next afternoon, right after I finished packing up my equipment by the rink, Kellan appeared beside me again. He didn't crowd my space. He just stood a polite distance away, waiting until I looked up.

"Coffee shop," he said, pointing a thumb toward the exit with a small, hopeful smile. "Offer is still on the table. And before you say no, remember it is just coffee. You can yell at me the entire time if it makes you feel better."

I stared at him for a long moment, my curiosity finally getting the better of my common sense. I needed to know what his game was.

"Fine," I said, grabbing my bag. "We can get coffee. But I am making one thing very clear right now, Kellan: this is not a date. We are coworkers grabbing a drink, and the second you start acting like an arrogant jerk, I am walking out."

Kellan's face lit up with a genuine, bright smile that made my chest do a weird, uncomfortable flip. "Deal."

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in a quiet corner booth of the small, cozy coffee shop down the street.

The smell of roasted beans and warm cinnamon filled the air. Kellan ordered a black coffee, while I ordered a hot caramel latte. For a few minutes, we just sat in silence, the quiet hum of the cafe surrounding us.

"Alright," I said, breaking the silence as I wrapped my hands around my warm mug. "Spill it."

Kellan raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Spill what?"

"You," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "Ever since yesterday, you have been acting completely different. You are polite, you are helpful, and you have barely teased me at all. What are you playing at, Kellan? What is your angle?"

Kellan let out a soft laugh, setting his mug down on the wooden table. He leaned back against the booth, looking at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

"There is no angle, Sasha. Can't a guy just want to spend five minutes with someone without a hidden motive?"

"No," I shot back instantly. "Not when that guy is Kellan West. You have lived your whole life with money, fame, and people bowing down to you. You are used to getting whatever you want. So when I told you I would never date you, it probably bruised your giant ego."

Kellan's jaw tightened slightly, his blue eyes flashing with a sudden, serious spark. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You really think my ego is that fragile? You think I care about a bruised ego?"

"Yes," I said, holding my ground. "Because men like you cannot handle being rejected. You think your last name and your hockey career make you irresistible to every woman on the planet. You have never had to work for anything real in your life."

"You keep saying that," Kellan whispered, his voice dropping low, filled with a raw, sudden frustration.

"You keep acting like you know everything about me. Like my life has been one giant fairy tale where everything was just handed to me on a silver platter. You do not know a damn thing about what I went through to get here."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, feeling my own anger rise to the surface. "You come from the powerful West family! Your dad is a billionaire, you grew up in a mansion, and you never had to worry about losing everything overnight because of a scandal you had nothing to do with! You do not know what it feels like to watch your family fall apart while the whole world watches and judges you!"

The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. I froze, my heart dropping straight into my stomach. I had said too much. I never talked about my dad or the scandal that destroyed our lives. I kept that locked away in a dark box, away from everyone, especially wealthy hockey players.

Kellan went completely still. The anger vanished from his face, replaced by a deep, sharp shock. He stared at me across the table, his eyes wide as the pieces of my words slowly clicked together in his head.

"Sasha..." Kellan started, his voice suddenly very soft, lacking any hint of arrogance. "What happened to your family?"

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over our table. I panicked, my chest tightening with hot shame and regret. I did not know him well enough to tell him this. I did not trust him.

"Forget I said anything," I snapped harshly, standing up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor.

"Sasha, wait," Kellan said, reaching a hand out across the table like he wanted to stop me.

"I have to go," I whispered, turning around and rushing away from the table before he could say another word.

I pushed open the heavy glass door of the coffee shop and bolted out onto the sidewalk, the cool evening air hitting my flushed face. My hands shook as I unlocked my car parked down the block, climbed into the driver's seat, and slammed the door shut. I locked the doors and let out a shaky, ragged breath, feeling like I had just narrowly escaped a trap.

Through the clear glass window of the coffee shop across the street, I caught movement.

I looked up. Kellan was standing by the window inside the warm cafe, watching me pull away. He wasn't smiling, and he didn't look angry or arrogant.

He stood completely still, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking at me with a dark, complicated expression that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

For some reason, the look on his face didn't feel like his usual game. It felt deep, focused, and entirely too real.

Sitting behind my steering wheel, my heart pounding a million miles an hour, a terrifying thought crossed my mind.

What on earth was Kellan West actually planning?