Todos os capítulos de Ice & Ivy - A Hockey Romance: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

POV: Silver PrestonThe ice looks too clean to be real.I've skated on plenty of rinks. Cramped training facilities with flickering fluorescents. Outdoor ponds that crack under winter sun. Even the gleaming Olympic oval in Colorado Springs, where dreams feel as tangible as morning frost.But this?This sheet of ice stretches before me like polished glass, so perfect it seems manufactured rather than frozen.Every overhead light catches its surface, throwing back my reflection in fragments. A flash of sequined blue. The sharp line of my ponytail. Eyes that have learned to hide doubt behind determination.The crowd presses against the boards of the Nationals arena, a wall of expectant faces blurred into motion and color. Parents clutch programs. Coaches scribble last minute notes.Somewhere in the darkness beyond the spotlights, cameras wait to capture either triumph or devastation, ready to replay either outcome until it becomes legend.My stomach twists.Not from nerves. Not exactly.

POV: Silver PrestonShe looks like she just stepped out of a board meeting.Perfectly pressed navy blazer without a wrinkle. Blonde hair pulled back in the same severe chignon she wore at the arena. Makeup completely intact despite however many hours she spent in a waiting room down the hall.Leona Preston does not look like a woman whose daughter just collapsed on national television.She looks like a woman who is furious about it."Silver."One word.She says my name like it is a verdict.My throat closes. I know this tone. I have known it my whole life. It comes out after disappointing performances, after falls in practice, after any moment when Silver Preston the person has the audacity to fail Silver Preston the brand.She crosses to the bedside without glancing at the monitors, without looking at the brace locked around my leg, without doing any of the things a person does when they walk into a hospital room and see someone they love.She just looks at me.Arms folded. Heels sto

POV: Silver PrestonUp close, Yale looms even larger than it did from the shuttle window.The Gothic spires press into the late afternoon sky, their shadows cutting long and dark across the courtyards below. I have competed in arenas built specifically to intimidate, designed with high ceilings and sharp lighting to make skaters feel small before they even lace up.This is different.These buildings do not need to try. The weight is just there, pressed into every carved stone and worn pathway. Centuries of people who knew exactly what they were doing and exactly where they belonged.I am not one of those people.I clutch my backpack strap and try not to favor my left leg too obviously as I follow the campus map toward my residential college. The map is already crumpled from the shuttle ride and makes about as much sense as it did when I first unfolded it. Every building looks the same. Gothic stone, arched windows, ivy climbing toward gargoyles at heights that make my head swim if I l

POV: Silver PrestonI have barely managed to pull my toiletries from the depths of my duffel bag when Americus materializes beside my bed like a sequined genie, hands planted on her hips."We need a bonding night."I look up from the narrow desk where I am attempting to arrange the handful of things I brought. A few textbooks. My phone charger. A small prescription bottle I slide quickly toward the back corner, out of easy view."Mandatory roommate tradition," she continues, already pulling out her phone. "Non-negotiable.""Mandatory?""Obviously."Her fingers move across the screen with the speed of someone who treats texting as a competitive sport."Dorm decorating can wait. Fairy lights will still be fairy lights tomorrow. Tonight we need pizza. Nothing bonds two people faster than grease, cheese, and questionable decisions made after nine PM."Before I can form a single coherent objection, she is already spinning toward the door."Riley's coming too. You're going to love her.""Ri

POV: Silver PrestonBianca holds my gaze for exactly three seconds.Then her mouth curves into something smooth and unhurried, the kind of smile that has been practiced in front of mirrors until it looks completely natural."My mistake," she says.She steps back.Bella follows, the two of them moving in the synchronized way they always have, like they share a single operating system underneath the matching designer jackets.Neither of them looks back.They do not need to.The message is already delivered, wrapped in plausible deniability and a pleasant expression.This is not over.I already knew that. I knew it the moment I saw them across the registration hall. But knowing something and feeling the full weight of it land in your chest are two entirely different experiences.Americus reappears at my elbow, still talking about costume design electives, completely unaware of what just happened two feet away from her.I let her voice wash over me like white noise and sign my name on the