Breaking The Rules

Chapter 28

I arrived at the rink before the sun had even broken past the horizon, my mind still spinning from the night I'd spent with Celeste. I hadn't slept much. I'd lie there, drifting in and out, until that look in her eyes would creep back in. It had me breaking out into cold sweats.

Those eyes. The way her fingers seemed to know exactly which buttons to push. Maybe that's why we ended up back in her room for a second round, giving in to whatever this was that we'd started. I was making a huge mistake. I was well aware of that. I just couldn't resist her, no matter how much I told myself that a fling with my housemate was a terrible idea.

My skates were planted against the locker room floor as I laced them up, the crisp, familiar scent of the ice filling my lungs. Without the rest of the team in the room I was able to hear the hum of the giant fans that kept this place at its brisk temperature. In a few hours, this space would be filled with the hum of spectators, the crack of sticks against the puck, the roar of cheers. But right now, it was still, and the quiet was exactly what I needed to sort my head out.

That was my guess as to why Cole opted for early morning ice slots with no one else around. He was already here, suiting up on the other end of the locker room. He shot me a nod as I dragged a practice jersey over my head.

"You couldn't sleep either?" he asked, his voice echoing in the empty room.

"Something like that," I muttered, pushing my hair back off my forehead. My muscles were tense, craving the release that only a good skate could give me. Maybe if I worked myself to exhaustion, I'd be too tired to think about last night or the deal I'd made with Celeste to keep things casual.

Cole smirked. "I don't mind the company for one day. Just don't make a habit of it."

"No promises."

If things with Celeste continued the way they were I would be joining my grumpy linemate more often. A part of me was hoping that maybe if I pushed myself hard enough, I could get Celeste out of my system. If she was open to something casual, then fine. Maybe that's all I needed to shake off whatever this crush was turning into.

Cole threw on a jersey and grabbed his stick, nodding toward the rink door. "Better enjoy the quiet while we can. I tend to share the ice with one of Fenton's figure skaters."

"They don't get their own timeslots?" I asked with a sharp brow. "Isn't that why our schedule was moved around?"

He didn't peer back at me to respond. Instead he kept moving down the hallway that led us to the rink. "They do. But somehow, this one got into Joey's good books."

Joey Scapato was the backbone of York Arena. He was the zamboni driver and the person you wanted to make nice with if you needed additional access to the rink. As long as you brought him a coffee and a meatball sub from time to time. I guess the figure skater that Cole was referring to had figured that out.

We headed out, the cold biting through my gear as I stepped onto the ice. I pushed off, the smooth surface giving way beneath me as I skated forward, my blades cutting into the rink with each stride. The sound of Cole's skates echoed behind me, but I was too busy losing myself in the familiar burn as I picked up speed. For a while, I let my thoughts fade into the background, focusing on the satisfying scrape of my skates and the solid weight of my stick in my hands. I pushed myself harder, each stride faster than the last, until a searing settled in my legs, tightness growing in my chest.

But no matter how fast I went, I couldn't outrun the memory of last night.

Cole was circling around the far end of the rink, his stick tapping on the ice as he slowed down. He caught up with me at center ice, his breathing heavy. "So, what about the scouts? Anyone reaching out to you?"

I shrugged, feeling a small pang of pride but keeping my voice casual. "There've been a couple. They're in touch with my rep. Nothing official, but it's looking good."

He grinned, giving me a friendly nudge with his stick. "In other words, you're making it to The Show."

I snorted, brushing him off. "Like I said, nothing's official."

But I could feel the weight of those possibilities, the endless hours of practice, the sacrifices, all leading to this moment. Going pro—that was the goal. The dream. The entire reason I kept my focus sharp, never letting anything, or anyone, get too close.

"That's the goal. It's all about the NHL," I said, more to remind myself than anything.

Anything else would just... complicate things.

Cole gave me a knowing look, patting me on the soldier as he headed back to the other side of the ring.

There were too many things that could get in the way of getting there if I wasn't careful. I ignored the small pang in my chest, brushing it off as nerves that sparked in my chest, but I knew there was more to it than that. I was good at keeping things casual for a reason. No strings. No expectations. No chance of letting anyone down.

But Celeste was making my usual arrangement difficult. Partly because she lived in my damn house. She was a constant distraction. A temptation that had me acting like an animal in heat. The one I saw every morning, the one I joked with over coffee, the one who had very quickly become beloved by each guy in the Hockey House. And last night, she'd become something more than that. Something I couldn't quite put into words.

I was not interested in that kind of commitment. Being tied down wouldn't work with my career. There would be so many women on the road. A long term relationship wasn't worth it.

That's what I kept telling myself. But the truth was, I could feel the cracks in my own logic widening with every passing minute. Last night, when I was with Celeste, none of those reasons mattered. I'd been so caught up in her, in the way she trusted me, that I hadn't cared about keeping things casual. And now, here I was, trying to skate away from anything I had felt a few hours prior.

The sound of skates scraping against the ice echoed as Cole and I worked through drills, pushing each other to go faster, to hit harder. I let the rhythm of it consume me, the satisfying burn in my muscles and the cold, sharp scent of the rink settling my mind. This was the reason I was here. This was what mattered.

But no matter how many drills I skated, no matter how hard I pushed myself, my thoughts kept drifting back to Celeste. To the way she looked at me with those wide, trusting eyes, like I was someone she could rely on. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.

Cole tapped me on the shoulder as we finished another lap, his breath coming in visible puffs in the cold air. "Alright, I'm calling it. Don't wanna burn out before the game tonight."

I nodded, though part of me wanted to keep going, to push myself until there was nothing left but exhaustion. But as I skated toward the bench, there was a familiar flicker of excitement—the thrill of knowing that tonight would be our redemption game against Brite.

Yet even as I thought of the game, that spark of adrenaline was tainted by something else. Something that had nothing to do with hockey, and everything to do with my little dancer who probably wasn't even awake yet.

I wasn't supposed to want more. Not when I had a future to focus on. Not when I'd spent years building up walls to protect myself from exactly this. But Celeste was already slipping through the cracks, and for the first time, I wasn't sure if I could—or even wanted—to stop her.

_ _ _ _ _

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