All Chapters of ICE AND ARROGANCE : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The puck dropped again, but the game had become secondary to the ghosts haunting the ice. Kane won the face-off and immediately drove toward me, stick high, eyes blazing with something far beyond competition. He pinned me against the boards with controlled brutality, his helmet inches from mine. “You want to know who Lila really was?” he snarled, voice low enough that only I could hear. “She wasn’t just my sister. She was the best player on that team at seventeen. Faster than half the boys, smarter than all of them. She fought for her spot the same way you did—took illegal hits, ignored the whispers, showed up every single day. Championship final. She was about to score the game-winner. Then one of her own teammates—someone who was supposed to protect her—came in from behind. Elbow to the neck. No attempt at the puck. The sound… I still hear it in my sleep. She dropped. Didn’t move. They carried her off on a stretcher while the crowd sat in silence. Spinal fracture at C6. Partia

The ride back to 114 Oak Street was silent except for the low rumble of the bus and the occasional shift of gear bags. I sat near the back again, ribs throbbing with every breath, shoulder stiff where Kane’s final hit had landed. The pain was manageable. The real ache lived deeper—in the way Coach Harlan had clapped me on the back like I was a prize he’d successfully displayed, and in the way Caleb had stormed off the ice without looking at me again. He sat three rows ahead, shoulders rigid, staring out the window like the passing streetlights had personally offended him. His hands were clenched into fists on his thighs. I knew that look. It was the same one he wore every time he pinned me against the boards under the guise of “correction.” Only now it was worse—because he wasn’t just angry at me. He was angry at himself for caring. When the bus finally pulled up to the house, the team spilled out in exhausted clusters. I moved slowly, every step sending fresh sparks through my

The shower was the only place left that still felt private. I stood under the hot spray long after the water should have gone cold, letting it beat against my bruised ribs and the knot of tension between my shoulders. Steam filled the small bathroom, thick and hazy, turning the mirror into a blank canvas. Every drop that slid down my skin reminded me of the way Caleb’s fingers had traced the same paths the night before—careful, trembling, never quite crossing the line we both kept pretending didn’t exist. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pain instead of him. The echo of Kane’s hits. The calculating look in Coach Harlan’s eyes. Lila’s name hanging over every collision like a warning. But the harder I tried to push Caleb out, the more vividly he appeared behind my eyelids—his forehead nearly touching mine in the hallway, the raw crack in his voice when he said he hated me, the way his hand had hovered like he was afraid touching me would break us both. A low sound filt

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains like a reluctant apology. My body protested the moment I tried to move—ribs stiff and bruised, shoulder tight from Kane’s hits, every muscle screaming from the scrimmage. But the real ache wasn’t physical. It lived in the silence that had followed those sounds through the wall last night. Caleb’s low groan. My name on his lips. The way the house itself had seemed to hold its breath with us. I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, the thin wall between our rooms feeling both too close and impossibly far. Sleep had come in fragments, broken by dreams of glass rattling, Lila’s stretcher, and Caleb’s hand hovering just short of my face. I finally forced myself up, wincing as I pulled on clean compression leggings and a loose team hoodie. The house smelled like coffee and the faint remnants of last night’s tension. I needed to move. To breathe air that didn’t carry his scent. The hallway was empty when I stepped out, b

The team bus idled outside the house like a steel beast waiting to swallow us whole. I climbed the steps last, ribs still protesting every movement, the bruises hidden beneath layers of compression and my hoodie. The scrimmage footage had already gone viral on the university’s internal channels—Coach had made sure of that. “Trailblazer stands tall” was the headline they were pushing. I felt like a prop in someone else’s story. Caleb had saved the seat next to him. He didn’t say it out loud. He simply left the spot empty, eyes fixed on the window as the rest of the team filed past. Riot gave me a knowing smirk but said nothing. Tank clapped my shoulder—gentle for once—and moved on. I slid in beside Caleb without a word, the narrow bench forcing our thighs to press together from hip to knee. The contact was immediate, unavoidable, and far too warm through our practice sweats. The bus doors hissed shut. The engine rumbled to life. And still neither of us spoke. Caleb’s arm rest