In the heart of Harvard, Alessia Gilmore is ready to embrace her second year and the independence it brings. After a summer spent reconnecting with friends and discovering herself, she's determined to step out of her twin sister Rory's shadow and ca...
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Avery couldn't remember the last time a game had left him this unsettled. His skates scraped the ice one last time as the buzzer rang, signaling the end of the match. The rink was buzzing with the sounds of opposing cheers, but he could barely hear them over the thundering in his ears.
He pulled his helmet off slowly, still feeling the sting of the loss in his chest. His body ached, not just from the usual bruises and exhaustion, but from something deeper. The third period had been the worst of it. That moment when his gaze locked onto the other player, when everything else on the rink seemed to blur out. The guy on the opposing team—he looked so familiar, yet not. A ghost from a past he thought he had buried a long time ago. The same dark hair, the same sharp jawline. But he couldn't be sure. And he definitely couldn't figure out why his heart had jumped in fear when their eyes met.
Avery rubbed his temples, trying to clear the fog in his head, but it didn't help. The adrenaline was still coursing through him, but it was tangled with something else. Something heavier.
"Hey, man," Quinn's voice broke through the haze, and Avery turned to see him peeling off his gear. The intensity of the game was still visible in Quinn's posture, but his eyes were searching. "You good? You were way off tonight. Almost like you weren't even in the game."
Avery forced a small chuckle, though it didn't feel natural. "Yeah, just tired. Nothing serious."
Quinn gave him a skeptical look. "Really? 'Cause it seemed like you were distracted. I don't know, man. You were totally off in the third period. Like, we all saw it."
Avery shrugged, not meeting his teammate's gaze. "I'm fine, Quinn. Just... had a lot on my mind."
Quinn didn't push it, but Avery could tell he was still unconvinced. "Alright, whatever. But next time, focus, yeah? We need you sharp."
"Got it." Avery's voice was tight, and Quinn seemed to sense the finality in it, walking off without another word.
Avery stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring blankly at the locker in front of him. The feeling in his chest, the one that had been there since the third period, wasn't going away. His mind kept replaying that moment—the flash of recognition, the confusion, the ache that had settled deep in his gut.
He'd seen that face before, of course. But why now? And why like this, on the ice, in the middle of a game where it didn't make sense? Avery yanked off his gloves, slamming them against the locker. The noise echoed in the quiet locker room, but it didn't drown out the storm swirling inside his head.
He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the past, about the people and places he'd left behind.
"Get it together," Avery muttered under his breath.
The locker room door swung open, and Beau stepped inside, still in his uniform, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Avery. Beau didn't say anything at first, just studied him with that familiar expression—half curiosity, half concern.
"You good?" Beau's voice was quieter than usual, a careful tone that Avery hadn't heard in a while.
Avery nodded, though the gesture felt stiff. "Yeah, just... just tired," he said, pulling off his jersey with more force than necessary. "You know how it is. Some games hit different."
Beau didn't buy it, but he didn't press further. He slapped Avery on the back, not too hard, but just enough to snap him out of his thoughts. "Alright, man. Just don't forget that we're a team, okay?"
Avery looked at him, offering a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Team."
They stood there for a moment, the quiet of the locker room pressing down around them. Avery didn't have an explanation for what had happened during the game, and he didn't have any answers about why his mind was still reeling. He just wanted it to stop, wanted the weight in his chest to lift. But that wasn't going to happen. Not tonight.
As the last of the team members filtered out, Avery lingered, staring at his reflection in the glass of the locker. He didn't recognize the guy in the mirror—not the one he used to be, not the one he was now.
