All Chapters of Stuck between Hockey Player and his Quarterback Brother: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The blizzard outside Evans’s Land Rover was wild and angry, like the sky had completely lost control. Snow spun in every direction, slamming hard against the tinted windows. The wind screamed so loudly it made the whole car shake whenever it hit us from the side.But inside… it was calm. Warm. Safe.It felt like a different world.The air smelled like leather, clean and rich, mixed with the faint woody scent of Evans’s cologne. There was also that familiar hint of spearmint he always chewed gum before practice, and somehow, that smell followed him everywhere.I sank deeper into the heated seat, pulling the thick wool blanket tighter around my shoulders.“God…” I muttered softly, pressing my hands into the fabric.My body was slowly coming back to life. My toes still tingled painfully, like tiny needles poking at them, and my fingers ached as I held onto the blanket. But even with the cold still clinging to me, something else was growing in my chest.Relief.Deep, overwhelming relief.

The duplex was still freezing. The smell of gin still lingered in the air. Nothing about my physical reality had changed.But as I leaned back against the cheap wooden door, staring out into the dark, quiet living room, I realized that everything had shifted. The war was still raging outside, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the storm. Because I finally knew, with absolute certainty, who was standing beside me in the trench.The final bell of the day rang, an earsplitting mechanical screech that sent the student body of Blackridge Academy flooding into the hallways like water from a breached dam. I packed my backpack with methodical precision, zipping it up and slinging it over my shoulder.I didn't linger in the corridors. I dodged the clusters of gold scarves and black beanies, ignoring the curious stares that tracked my every movement. My destination wasn't the library for a tutoring session, nor was it the community rink. I was headed straight for the bus stop

The administration office of Blackridge Academy was a sterile, intimidating space filled with leather chairs and the heavy scent of lemon polish. I stood before the receptionist’s mahogany desk, my heart thudding a nervous rhythm against my ribs."Tamine Jordan," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'm here to pick up my official transcripts."The receptionist, a stern woman who usually treated scholarship students like an annoying disruption, didn't even blink. She opened a locked drawer and pulled out a thick, sealed manila envelope stamped with the Blackridge crest."Dean Vance had these prepared for you first thing this morning," she said, sliding them across the desk. "Sign the ledger, please."I signed my name, my fingers numb. It was real. Atlas hadn't just made an empty promise on a piece of expensive stationery; he had actively navigated the bureaucratic nightmare of this school to hand me my future on a silver platter.I walked out of the office clutching the envelope to my ch

January arrived with a brutal, unapologetic freeze that turned the leftover November snow into solid blocks of gray ice.The frantic energy that had consumed Blackridge Academy during the fall semester had completely frozen over. The "Draft" was dead. The gold scarves and black beanies had been shoved to the back of closets, replaced by a collective, exhausted focus on midterm exams and college preparation.Without the constant threat of Charlotte’s sabotage or Atlas’s relentless territorial displays, my life had settled into a strange, quiet rhythm. It was peaceful, but it was the kind of peace you feel when holding your breath underwater.I was waiting.The early admissions decisions for Chicago were scheduled to be released by the end of the month. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart performed a violent, acrobatic leap into my throat."You're doing it again."I blinked, pulling my gaze away from the blank screen of my phone resting on the diner table.Evans was sitting across from

I stared at the envelope. Boston. Chicago and Boston were nearly a thousand miles apart. The invisible clock that had been ticking in the background of our relationship suddenly grew deafeningly loud. August. We had exactly six months before our lives forcefully diverged onto two completely different paths. "Boston," I whispered, forcing a bright, enthusiastic smile onto my face that felt completely plastic. "Evans, that's incredible. It's a D1 school. You're going to get drafted into the NHL from there. I'm so proud of you." "Tamine," Evans said, his voice thick with a sudden, raw ache. He didn't smile. He didn't celebrate. He just looked at me like his heart was breaking. "It's a thousand miles away." "I know," I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. He reached across the table, taking both of my hands in his. His grip was almost desperate. "I thought about turning it down," Evans confessed, the words tumbling out of him in a rushed, fran