LOGINCole Williams POV
Carter’s hands glide over my shoulder blades, sliding in rings, circling like they know the terrain better than I do. Every press is sharp, almost painful, then softens into something dangerously delicious. He has a way of finding the exact line between tension and release, teasing the edge so that every nerve is awake, alive, but never quite screaming. It’s a rhythm, a slow, unspoken choreography that leaves my muscles slack but my mind s
That look.The kind that came from somewhere below language. "Walking you to your room."I turned and started down the hallway before my face could do something I'd regret.This hotel was one of my favorites black and white checkered floors, low dramatic lighting, the kind of moody elegance that felt borrowed from a different era. The corridor was wide enough for three people shoulder to shoulder.With Theo directly behind me, it felt like a corridor built for one.I found my room number, stopped, and reached back for my bag.He didn't hand it over immediately.I turned around.He was closer than I'd registered close enough that I had to tilt my chin slightly to meet his eyes. He was looking at me with that expression he'd been wearing all evening the one I couldn't parse, the one that lived in the contested territory between anger and something rawer and less safe."Theo." My voice ca
Congratulations, Captain. Now step down quietly, or what I know about your goalie goes public by midnight. Silence pressed through the bus like a held breath no one dared release. āAlright. That settles it. Cassian stays captain of the Silverfang until further notice.ā A few nods. No argument. No hesitation. But my mind wasnāt on any of it. āWhy did you do that?ā I finally asked, eyes fixed on the road as I drove toward St. Josephās Womenās Hospital. My grip tightened on the wheel. āWas it because ā āI didnāt do it because I love you.ā The words hit like a clean strike to the chest. Not a crack. A full collapse. Something inside me didnāt just break it scattered, fine and irretrievable, like glass turned to dust. And the worst part? The way he said it so casually. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. Except I did feel it. That was the sick, unbearable part. I
She appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her face had done something complicated surprise folding into something softer and more careful. "Theodore." Her voice was different now. Quieter. "There's someone here for you." I stood slowly. "Who?" She hesitated just a half-second, just enough and stepped aside. And my heart stopped completely. Because it wasn't Theo. It was his mother. Theo Cassian pov Dallas was eating us alive. One goal down since the first period, and we were falling apart in real time scrambling, sloppy, yelling at each other across the ice like a high school team that hadn't practiced in a month. Coach was on the sideline with his eyes practically leaving his skull. Jasper our captain, the man who was supposed to be holding this together was somewhere else entirely in his head. I wasn't much better. Because Vincent was in goal. Vincent my Vincent, though he didn't know that yet and might never was standing between the pipes while some of the most d
He was at the stove when I came out of my room. Back turned, shoulders relaxed no tension that I could read, no storm gathering. Give it a minute, I told myself. It's coming. "Morning." He didn't look up. "Made eggs. Want some?" "Thanks." I sounded like a man who'd swallowed gravel. I cast around for the standard morning pleasantry. Eventually: "Sleep okay?" He turned. His eyes hit me open and honest and so painfully unguarded that my chest did something I didn't authorize. "Not really," he said simply. "Lot to process. And I was worried about you." "I'm fine." He didn't believe me. He smiled anyway slower than usual, eyes closing more than normal, lids a little pink and heavier than they should have been. I did that. I made him look like that. Something violent moved through me. He plated the toast with quiet precision, selected the two best eggs sunny-side up, yolk centered, whites even and slid them across the spatula onto the bread like it mattered. Like I mattered. Ha
My mind scrambles backward. That was before I ever said anything out loud. Before I even knew what I was to myself. Theo nods once. āYeah. In his car. Right after I told him. That was the first thing out of his mouth.ā His gaze sharpens on me. āHe already knew about you, Vin.ā A chill crawls up my spine. āAnd itās the only thing he ever asked of me,ā Theo continues. āThe only boundary. Donāt mess with you.ā I shake my head slightly. āThat doesnāt ā āIt does,ā he cuts in, voice lower now. He looks away like it hurts to hold my eyes. āBecause he knows me. Knows where I come from. Knows what Iām capable of when things get complicated.ā A pause. Then it lands. āHe thinks Iām not good enough for you.ā The words hit like something heavy and sharp at the same time. āIāll ruin it,ā Theo says quietly. āIāll mess it up. Iāll hurt you.ā My chest tightens as if the air just turned solid. āYou wanted to know what Nate is to me?ā he asks after a beat. I donāt answer. Theo exhales. ā
He'd been surviving.And then my phone lit up on the cushion beside me.A message from my brother.Nate: Don't let him tell you it's fine. It was never fine. And Dad knew. He knew the whole time."There were two versions of my dad."Theo's voice was controlled. Practiced. The voice of someone who'd learned early that feelings were a liability."I called them the Coleders. Light and dark." He didn't look at me. "Light meant he'd drunk himself into something almost bearable stumbling, laughing, harmless enough. Dark meant " He stopped. Jaw tight. "Dark meant you cleared the room."He picked at the cuticle on his thumb now, the couch seam abandoned."When it went dark, I'd hold out as long as I could for my mom. But when it got bad enough, I'd bail. Show up at your place. Nate's floor, usually. A few weeks would pass, and then my dad would notice I was gone and come drag me back." His mouth twisted. "I always went quietly. Couldn't stand the idea of him making a scene on your doorstep.
āWe have to get out of here,ā I hiss. āNow.āHe doesnāt resist, only looks away and nods. āWhich room?āāTop floor. Sixteen.āāMessage me when itās clear,ā he says. Then heās gone, a shadow slipping down the hall. Two songs later, I follow, heart hammering like a war drum, ev
Luca Moretti POVTyler doesn’t let go.He keeps me pinned to him, breathing slow and even, like he’s anchoring me to the ground while my insides fracture. He waits. Patient. Unmoving. Until the shaking in me finally stills.Then he lifts my chin.
Tyler looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth hoping for. I didnāt think I just threw myself at him, arms winding around him, lips crashing against his. Right there. Right then. And now Iām home, and heās still there in my head, haunting me. Tomorrow I have to drag my ass onto a p
He pulls me closer as I chew, his mouth finding my neck.āIt was really romantic, Luca.āāIt wasnāt romantic,ā I mutter. āIt was unhinged.āHe grinswild, crooked, beautiful. Like someone who belongs in the same dark place I do. āThatās what made it romantic, baby.ā







