Lahat ng Kabanata ng Owned on the Ice M/M Romance: Kabanata 371 - Kabanata 380

The rink was quieter than usual.Morning skates always were.Half the arena lights were still off, leaving the ice washed in a cool gray glow that made everything feel a little unreal. The stands were empty except for a couple of trainers and one of the arena staff wiping down the glass along the boards.Game day.Morning skate. Light legs. Quick drills. Final line checks before puck drop that night.Ryder stepped onto the ice and pushed off slowly, letting the familiar glide settle into his muscles. His body already carried the dull fatigue of the season, the kind that lived in your joints, but the ice always made it manageable.He circled once, tapping his stick against the surface as a few of the other guys filtered out behind him.Connor skated up beside him.“You feel that?” Connor muttered.“Feel what?” Ryder asked.Connor tilted his chin toward the bench.Coach Larsson stood there with a clipboard, staring down at it like it owed him money.Ryder huffed a quiet laugh.“Coach's

The bus hummed beneath Ryder’s feet as it idled in the parking lot, the early evening sky bleeding into streaks of orange and violet beyond the tinted windows. The next game was away from home, three hours north on the interstate, against the Westlake Bears. A solid mid-tier program with a reputation for bruising defense and a home crowd that loved to make visiting teams feel small. Ryder had always liked playing there; the rink was old-school, loud, and unforgiving, the kind of place that sharpened your edges.He stepped onto the bus last, duffel slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the rows for an open seat next to Jax.Jax was already settled halfway down on the right, hoodie up, one earbud in, scrolling his phone with that calm, unhurried focus that always made Ryder’s stomach do a lazy flip. The seat beside him was empty.Perfect.Except Connor beat him there by half a second. “Yo, Calloway, scoot,” Connor said, dropping his bag and wedging his broad frame into the aisle seat

Milo stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click like he didn’t want to startle anyone. Up close, he looked a little younger than Ryder expected. Fair hair falling loose over his forehead, a plain hoodie and jeans like he’d come straight from somewhere... normal.“Hey,” Milo said, offering a small, easy smile. “Uh—Milo. Milo Laskey.” He rubbed the back of his neck for a second, then dropped his hand and squared his shoulders like he remembered where he was. “Nice to meet you both.”Jax moved first, stepping forward and taking his hand. “Jax Calloway.”“Yeah, I know,” Milo said with a quick huff of a laugh, shaking once, firm but not trying to prove anything. “I’ve heard a lot about you lately.”Ryder stepped in next, gripping Milo’s hand. It was warm, solid. Real.“Ryder Hayes,” he said, then immediately felt stupid. Of course he knew who they were.Meeting a Cup winner should’ve felt bigger. Flashier. Some kind of aura. Instead Milo just felt… steady. G

The bus ride back to Greyhollow was pure torture.In the dark cabin, surrounded by sleeping teammates, Ryder sat stunned and still half-hard while Jax licked his fingers clean with slow, deliberate strokes, eyes never leaving Ryder’s. Then Jax pulled the blanket higher over their laps and slumped against his side, stealing soft, lingering kisses that still tasted like Ryder’s own release.Ryder’s brain was buffering on a loop.He said he loved me. Did that really just happen? Was that really the name for this thing between them?Was the back of a team bus, surrounded by twenty snoring hockey players, really the place to say it?His stomach kept flipping like he was fifteen again.He liked Jax. A lot.He wanted to be with him—all the time.Relationships had always felt restrictive. That’s why what he’d had with Lila had been so perfect: open, easy, no expectations. But with Jax… he didn’t want to touch anyone else. And he sure as hell didn’t want Jax touching anyone else either.But J

The Wolf Den was always quiet on Sunday afternoons. Most of the guys were sprawled in their rooms, nursing hangovers or catching up on sleep after a brutal week. The occasional muffled laugh or video game sound drifted down the hallway, but the common areas were peaceful.In Jax’s room, Ryder stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his dark green button-down. He’d put in real effort today — fitted black jeans that hugged his thighs, the shirt sleeves rolled up to show his forearms, and his hair styled just enough to look intentional without trying too hard. He wanted to look good for Jax. Really good.Across the room, Jax was doing the same.He wore a charcoal-gray sweater that clung to his broad shoulders and chest in all the right ways, the fabric soft but fitted enough to hint at the muscle underneath. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, his dark hair was pushed back, a few strands still falling forward, and the sharp line of his jaw was freshly shaved. He looked ridiculo