1. Grayson

1

GRAYSON

FALL SEMESTER

" A gain!" Coach called. I nodded to acknowledge I'd heard him, and focused on the net behind Smith, our hulking goalie, even more of an imposing figure than usual with the layers of protection covering his body. Being a first-line center as well as the newly elected team captain meant additional pressure to perfect my game, not to mention our hopes of winning the conference title after narrowly missing out last season, and so I'd dragged Smith down here before the rest of the team showed up to get in some extra ice time.

I lined up the puck, and on Coach's whistle, skated down the rink in smooth, powerful movements, and when I was where I wanted to be, I wound up for a slap shot, aiming for the top shelf. The thud of my stick connecting with the puck was loud in this otherwise silent rink, absent of the roar of the spectators and the sound of our teammates on the ice. For now, it was just me, Smith, and the puck.

Everything else disappeared when I was on the ice. It was a relief. My only relief. When I wasn't out here, I remembered.

That night .

Smith intercepted my shot, sending the puck flying across the ice on the rebound, and I executed a turn, lunging forward to change its trajectory, shooting it right back at the goal. This time, it went in. I allowed myself a small smile, because Smith didn't have his reputation for nothing. That man was destined for the NHL. I knew it. As for me, my dreams didn't involve the NHL. As much as I loved playing for the Blackwell Lake Barracudas, my interests skewed toward a more behind-the-scenes role. Team physio, if all went to plan.

Coming to a halt in front of Smith, I high-fived him. "Good work, man."

He grinned from behind the cage of his mask. "Same." Our teammates spilled onto the ice behind me, and we split, gliding into position to begin our morning drills. My eye was caught by the glint of a camera lens, and I rolled my eyes at the presence of our team's constant shadow.

Micah Pierce . The coach's quiet, kind-of-nerdy son, who seemed to hate crowds and yet made an appearance at every single one of our games. Okay, sure, he was the team photographer, but he didn't have to attend all our games. There were other photographers in the school rota. Another thing he hated? Me. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but he definitely resented me. I'd catch a glimpse of wavy chestnut hair out of the corner of my eye, and I knew that if I allowed myself to look, I'd see brows pulled together, light brown eyes glittering in an angular face as he glowered at me. Always me. Never the others.

Something about it never failed to make my heart beat faster.

He was an enigma, that was all. I didn't know how to act around people I didn't understand. With my teammates, I was cocky and confident. It was easy. We all shared the same goal. In our free time—what little we had between practice, games, and school—we liked parties and women. I fit in with them, and that was something I'd never really felt growing up in England. Moving to the US to live with my dad at sixteen, four years after he'd moved back here after he and my mum had divorced, had opened up a whole new world to me. A world of hockey. And I was very fucking good at it. So good, that I'd not only been given a full ride at Blackwell Lake U, but Coach believed in me and my leadership skills enough to make me captain of the entire team this year.

My gaze caught on Micah's, and even from my position across the rink, I saw his lips curve into a tiny smirk as he lifted his camera, pointing it directly at me.

A memory flashed through my mind. A night I didn't want to remember. A night that I managed to forget when I was on the ice. But Micah fucking Pierce had brought it all screaming back.

The boat rocked a little as Miller stumbled. Fuck, my teammate was wasted. He glanced over at Micah, most likely blinking as he attempted to focus his blurred vision, if he was as drunk as he sounded. "Look, Pierce. I don't know why you're even here."

Although it was dark, I could easily picture the hurt flashing in Micah's brown eyes. "Shut up, Miller." My voice held a warning that I knew he'd pay attention to, even in his drunken state. I didn't know why I cared, but the words were out before I could think twice about what I was saying.

Miller grunted, and I took that to mean he understood. I sped up the boat, heading for the center of the lake, the party far behind us. There was something about being here in the darkness, far away from the crowds, flying across the still, inky surface of the lake. It was an adrenaline rush, and it was peace, both at the same time.

To my left, I could just about make out the silhouette of Ava Hayes, huddled up with Micah, and an irrational spike of jealousy went through me, knowing how close they were. Ava was fucking beautiful—all long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a fucking stunning body. At first glance, she came across as a typical sorority girl, which was why I couldn't understand Micah's friendship with her, but I knew there was more to her. She intrigued me. She also skated. Not my kind of skating, but figure skating. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a secret or not, but I'd seen her sneak into the rink before our practices, so fucking graceful on the ice, executing spins and jumps with a level of skill that astounded me.

She was just my type, but for some reason, she'd never been interested. She'd shot down every single one of my advances, which made me even more intrigued. On top of that, she seemed to resent me, just like Micah Pierce did. Only it wasn't just me she resented, it was the entire team. I had no idea why, but my brain had marked her as off limits. Too bad my cock didn't seem to get the memo.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized how fast we were going until Micah's command cut through the darkness. "Stop the damn boat, Cross."

Then everything else seemed to happen in slow motion.

"Relax, Pierce." I went to ease up on the throttle, but it got stuck.

There was an ominous bump.

And then I saw the hand that had haunted my nightmares ever since.

Gritting my teeth, I tore my gaze away from Micah and focused on the drills, a sense of calm coming over me as my mind finally emptied, leaving only the ice behind. This was all that mattered. What had happened that night would one day be nothing but a distant memory.