Chapter 1
JADE;
I hated the way the hallways echoed here—too clean, too unfamiliar, too loud. Everyone moved like they had somewhere important to be. I just wanted to disappear into the walls.
Tess walked beside me, practically bouncing. “Okay, this is your chance, Jade. Fresh start. New team. No drama.”
“I’m not joining,” I muttered, adjusting the book under my arm. My fingers curled tighter around it like it was a shield. “I told you I’m just here for moral support.”
She stopped, right in the middle of the corridor, turning to face me with those hazel eyes that always managed to make me feel guilty. “Jade, come on. You’re you. You can’t just bury that.”
“I’m not burying anything,” I lied. “I’m just… done.”
Tess didn’t believe me. She never did. And honestly? I didn’t blame her.
Five minutes later, I was sitting in the cold metal bleachers, the hum of the rink filling my ears as Tess laced up and skated onto the ice. I cracked open my book, trying to lose myself in its pages. It was easier than watching her glide effortlessly across the rink—easier than remembering what it felt like to fly on ice before it all came crashing down.
I didn’t notice someone sit beside me until I caught a whiff of cologne and confidence.
“You’re not supposed to read books here, princess.”
I didn’t even look up. “And you’re not supposed to sit that close to strangers, but here we are.”
He laughed, low and cocky. “Feisty. I like that.”
I finally glanced sideways. Tousled blond hair, piercing blue eyes, smirk firmly in place. Leaned back like he owned the world—or at least this rink. He looked like every other guy who thought being captain made him untouchable.
“And you are?” I asked, my voice as flat as the pages of the book I was reading.
“Zane,” he replied, flashing a cocky grin. “Zane Hunter. Team captain. And you… must be new around here.”
I didn’t look up, just kept my eyes on the page. “Nope. Just time-traveled from the 1800s,” I muttered, flipping the page like he wasn’t even there.
He chuckled, low and amused, shaking his head. “Smartass. This’ll be fun.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t here to play his games. Let him think whatever he wanted. I wasn’t about to get sucked into the charm of yet another cocky hockey god. He could keep his ego and his titles—both of which were big enough to fill this rink.
But his presence itched at the back of my neck. Not in the way my ex used to—full of calculation and control—but in a different, more unpredictable way.
“You gonna try out?” he asked, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “Or just gonna read through the whole season?”
“I’m just here to watch,” I said, not looking up. “Don’t worry, captain. Your spot’s not under threat.”
He let out a low chuckle. “That a challenge?”
I turned a page. “That’s a fact.”
Zane stepped a little closer, clearly amused. “So… you skate?”
This time, I did glance up—just enough to meet his gaze, calm and unreadable. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He grinned, cocky and unbothered. Like he thought he’d already won something.
And I hated that for a split second, my grip on the book tightened.
Zane didn’t leave.
He stayed planted beside me, throwing in a comment every now and then—something smug about how Tess was good but “rough on the edges,” how I should “maybe learn from the sidelines a little longer.”
I didn’t take the bait. Not at first.
But every second I watched Tess glide across the ice... the ache in my chest grew sharper.
Every time I tried to ignore her, bury myself in the pages of my book... the ache grew stronger.
It wasn’t just the familiar chill of the rink or the rhythmic scrape of blades against ice. It was the way the rink felt like home and hell all at once. The place where I used to shine… and crash.
“You sure you don’t skate?” Zane asked again, more curious now. “You’ve got that... look.”
I didn’t glance up. “What look?”
“That ‘I’ve seen this all before’ kind of look. Like you’ve already decided we’re not worth your time.”
I closed the book just slightly. “Maybe I have.”
He let out a soft laugh, his eyes never leaving me. “Confidence, huh? For someone just watching from the bleachers.”
“Observation’s a skill. Try it sometime.”
He smirked, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “You always this fun, or am I just special?”
I raised an eyebrow, feeling the challenge in his tone. “I’m pretty sure you’re not.”
His grin only widened. “So do you skate?”
I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I let the silence hang between us, the hum of the rink filling the gap.
With that, he ran a hand through his messy blond hair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he muttered, “Yeah, probably not. I can already tell.”
“I don’t need to skate to know you’re all talk,” I said finally, looking up from my book. “You might want to worry about that more than my ‘look.’”
Zane’s brow furrowed slightly, his smirk still there, but now with a bit of confusion, like I was a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out.
“Talk’s cheap,” he said, “but I’m guessing you’ve got nothing to back it up. Seems like you’re just here to watch the show.”
I stood up then, slowly, letting the book fall to my side. He was still grinning, but I could see the spark of doubt in his eyes now, just underneath the cocky facade.
“Maybe I’m not here to watch,” I said, my voice steady and low, the words carrying a weight I knew would catch his attention.
And before he could say anything else;
I closed the book.
Zane blinked. “Wait—are you—?”
I stood without a word, walking down toward the edge of the rink. Tess caught my eye mid-practice, confusion flashing across her face. She skated to the edge as I stepped into the players’ entrance, the chill biting into my skin.
“Jade?” she asked, breathless.
“Hand me your extra stick.”
She stared like I’d grown a second head. “Wait. What?”
“I said—your stick.”
“Wait—wait, wait—you’re actually getting on the ice?”
I shrugged off my hoodie. “Don’t make it a big deal.”
“Oh my goddess,” she whispered. “She’s back.” Then louder, like she couldn’t help herself, “She’s BACK!”
I gave her a look. “Tone it down.”
But I couldn’t stop the smallest smile tugging at my lips. The one I hadn’t worn in months.
It felt strange. It felt good.
Tess tossed me her stick, and I slid my feet into the skates waiting at the bench. The familiar weight hugged my ankles, blades biting the ice as I stepped onto the rink like I never left it. My body remembered every move. My muscles sang with it—smooth turns, tight edges, no hesitations.
I didn’t warm up. I didn’t hold back.
I flew.
Fast, sharp, clean. Circling the rink, pivoting into a perfect backwards crossover before launching the puck toward the net—top right corner. Swish.
Then again.
And again.
Eyes turned toward me. Whispers rose.
And when I finally coasted to a stop, ice spraying into the air, I skated straight past Zane—still standing near the edge of the bleachers, brows raised, mouth slightly open.
“Told you,” I said coolly, “you wouldn’t want me on your team.”
He recovered fast, pushing off the wall and clapping slowly. “Alright, hotshot. You’ve got moves. So what?”
“So…” I stepped closer, holding his gaze. “I’m trying out.”
“Because of me?”
“No.” I smirked. “Because I love that stunned look on your face. Even if you’ll never admit it was there.”
His jaw clenched. “There was no stunned look.”
I raised a brow. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, captain.”
Behind me, Tess was still laughing, practically vibrating with joy. “Oh my god, finally the Jade I know.”
I turned, catching her eye with that tiny, reserved smile she always claimed was my version of a shout. Then I spun back toward Zane, chin lifted, leaving him standing in silence as I walked off the ice like I never left it in the first place.
