Off the Ice
The single, private sheet of ice was illuminated by low-hanging stadium lamps that cast harsh, focused pools of white light onto a surface that was deliberately kept harder, faster, and colder than any commercial rink.
Liam stood by the rusted iron player gate, his fingers curling tightly over the top of the scratched boards. He was wearing his black training gear, but the oversized gray Warriors hoodie Jaxson had given him was still pulled low over his hips, a massive shield against the subterranean chill. Beneath the thick cotton, his left shoulder felt securely bound. Jaxson had kept his promise; before they left the penthouse, the captain had forced him onto the training table and meticu