Holiday Hockey Tale: The Icebreaker's Impasse นิยาย & เรื่องราว

We stayed a little longer, talking about nothing and everything, about his first practice back, about my classes, about how Logan somehow managed to trip over the penalty box door last week. When my toes started going numb, Hayden finally stood. “Alright, let’s get you out of here before you lose circulation.” I stood too, unsteady on my skates. “Do I get a certificate for surviving my first night on the ice?” “You get bragging rights.” “That’s it?” “And maybe hot chocolate.” I pretended to think it over. “Hot chocolate seems like a fair reward.” We left the rink together, our breath fogging in the night air. As we reached the path back toward my apartment, he slowed his pace just enough to

Just as the lingering headache threatened to overwhelm her, a bright, cheerful voice broke through the silence. "Mommy! Mommy, we're back!" His cheeks still had stains from the chicken bread and he held a nylon with him. Leanor knew it contained chocolate bread immediately and couldn't help but smile at his cuteness. Instantly, the tension draining from Leanor's shoulders was palpable. She opened her arms and pulled him into a very tight and protective hug. Holding him close, a wave of fierce clarity swept through her: for this child, she could endure any lingering bitterness, face any past betrayal, and conquer any hardship.

“Stop looking for a reason to ruin this, man. Just let it be good.” “I’m not trying to ruin it.” “Then tell your face that.” The whistle blew again, sharp and loud. Eli skated off to join the next line. I stayed put for a second, staring at the scuff marks on the ice. He wasn’t entirely wrong, and that just annoyed me more. I knew how to handle hockey. I knew how to handle campus politics and scouts. I had no idea how to handle being in a normal relationship. Later that night, I was standing in my kitchen drinking a glass of water when my phone rang. The screen lit up on the counter. It was my mom.

Since the estate sat high on the mountain ridges where no human transit ever climbed, I had to hike all the way down to the valley crossroads just to flag down a transport pack vehicle to take me to the village rink. My time at the local rink had been brief, and breaking the scouting contract so soon made the head coach’s face turn purple. “Why did you sign on with our franchise if your wolf wasn't committed to the territory? You’ve left our roster completely exposed before the winter tournament!” “I am deeply sorry,” I murmured, keeping my head bowed. “The circumstances changed overnight.” The coach snarled under his breath, but before he could launch into a full tirade, a junior assistant

Tinsley sinks deeper into her scarf. "I'm just saying," she adds. "Nobody should fight batter that hard." "The syrup was a hostage situation," Brooke says. "Thank you." I laugh, and it comes out wrong, and neither of them notices. My thumb finds the split crease of the drawing in my jacket pocket. I notice only after the fold bites my fingertip. The split runs between two of the wolves. I smooth it flat and it springs back open. The rink clock above the Zamboni bay reads 10:14. Diesel and cold rubber leak under the doors into the stands.

The scoreboard above the center ice blared a stressful, heart stopping tie: 3 - 3. The two teams were completely on par with each other, matching goal for goal, hit for hit. The Hawks were having a horribly hard time keeping up with the brutal, non stop Russian offensive line. Julian’s teammates were visibly exhausted, their breathing heavy and ragged behind their plastic visors. Ken had been slammed hard into the plexiglass minutes earlier, bruising his shoulder, but he forced himself to stay on the ice, his face twisted in pain. The clock was ticking down mercilessly.

“For me, it’s a disaster.” I told her a little about Travis, just enough to explain why his name always gave me a headache. He was Juan’s teammate, the captain of a professional hockey team, the owner of a racing circuit, and a man who should never have been anywhere near me. I didn’t tell her what had happened in his bedroom that night. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it out loud, let alone watch Jasmine turn my confession into a conversation that would make me want to disappear. Yet I also couldn’t ignore the fact that Travis had taken me out for lunch, listened to my worries, and looked at me in a way that made every reason I had to hate him feel much more fragile.

I’d repeated it to myself the entire drive home last night, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally pulled me under. Yet here I was, heart rate elevated for reasons that had nothing to do with the game. Third period started fast. We pushed hard, cycling the puck in their zone. I took a hit along the boards that rattled my teeth but kept possession, firing a shot that clanged off the post. Close. Too close. The crowd groaned, then cheered when we recovered. With two minutes left, the other team pulled their goalie for an extra attacker. Chaos on the ice. Sticks clashing, bodies colliding.

"And I'll recommend that the league drop the investigation." "Thank you." "Don't thank me yet." Dr. Chen pulled something out of her desk drawer. A book manuscript. Thick. Printed. The cover page read: "Love on Ice: The True Story of Hockey's Most Controversial Couple. By Emily Chen, Ph.D." Damian's blood ran cold. "What is that?" "My book." Dr. Chen set the manuscript on the coffee table. "I've been writing it for six months. Interviews. Research. Analysis. It covers everything—your rivalry, your relationship, the blackmail, the shooting, the wedding."

Atlas and Hawk are right by my side, yeah, they know that when the Brannigan temper flies, it has a way of getting out of control. “Man don’t do it, you don’t want to be in the sinbin not for this game, we need you on the ice with us.” Hawk tells me and grabs my arm; I shake him off. “Loser.” I spit at Teddy; in the meantime the game is still going on around us.