Chapter SEVEN Wes

I lean against the wooden wall of the cabin, a plastic cup of whatever punch the team decided to concoct clutched in my hand. My gaze drifts across the room, past the raucous laughter and drunken dance moves of my teammates, and lands on Lexi. She's dancing with Noah—Noah Bishop, our captain and Mr. Nice Guy himself. I take a swig from my cup, the liquid doing nothing to quench the heat rising in my chest.

There's something about the way her sandy blonde hair sways with each movement, the way her laugh reaches her eyes that makes it hard to look away. Jealousy and desire twist inside me like a Gordian knot. I should be out there, not Noah. But then again, I'm Wes Jacobs—the guy who rides the edge, never the one who gets the girl.

Lexi throws her head back, laughing at something Noah says, and I can't help but wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that look. To be the one making her laugh. It's ridiculous, really, because up until this retreat, Lexi Turner was just another face in a crowd of college students. But now she's all sharp wit and confidence wrapped up in an athletic build that speaks volumes of her strength. Yeah, I've noticed. More than I should have.

"Hey, Jacobs, your slack-jawed gazing is creeping into stalker territory," Dean calls out, nudging my side as he passes by with a smirk.

"Shut it, Hartley," I mutter, pushing off the wall, determined to do something about this restless feeling clawing at me.

I sulk alone until I see her pull away from Noah—and I can’t resist a momentary jab at Captain Bishop before I go to refill my drink. After, I stride over to where Lexi is now chatting with one of the defensemen, probably discussing some intricate play. My heart slams against my rib cage, but outwardly I'm calm—cool ice, just like on the rink. I catch her eye, and for a moment, it's like we're the only two people in the room.

"Lexi, can I talk to you? Outside?" My voice is steady, but there's an intensity there I don't bother to hide.

She looks at me, a hint of surprise flickering across her face, but she nods. "Sure, give me a sec."

"Actually," I say, the word cutting through the music, "now."

The defenseman raises his eyebrows but backs off without a word. The rest of the team is too caught up in their own revelries to notice us slipping out the front door. As I hold it open for her, Lexi brushes past me, and the faint scent of her perfume—a mix of something floral and the crisp winter air—hits me.

"Lead the way, Jacobs," she says, her voice laced with that ever-present sarcasm I can't get enough of.

I want to grin, to throw some cocky remark back at her, but instead, I simply nod and step into the night, knowing full well that this conversation could change everything.

Snow swirls around us as we step outside, a tempest of white cloaking the cabin retreat in a shroud of silent chaos. The frigid air bites at my cheeks, but it's nothing compared to the chill that's settled over me since seeing Lexi in Noah's arms. Flakes settle on her hair like a crown of winter, and I can't help but think she looks like some kind of ice princess—untouchable, ethereal.

"Wow, it's really coming down," she says, her breath forming clouds of mist as she turns her face toward the sky. "It's like being inside a snow globe."

"Except there's no shaking this," I reply, brushing off the snow that's already gathering on my shoulders.

We tread carefully along the path, the snow crunching beneath our boots. It's a sound that's usually comforting, synonymous with winter games and victory parties. But tonight, it's just the prelude to what I know needs to be said.

"Thanks for coming out here with me," I start, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. I don’t miss how it makes my shoulder twinge. Maybe I should lay off the ping-pong and darts. "I needed to get away from the noise for a bit."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her expression sharp with concern, cutting through the falling snow and right into me.

I hesitate, watching the snowflakes dance between us. They're delicate things, unique and fleeting—kind of like moments, I guess. And this moment feels like one I won't get back if I don't seize it.

"Look, Lexi," I say, finally meeting her gaze. "This... all of this isn't easy for me. I'm not the guy who talks about feelings or opens up. But I've got these thoughts, these fears that I don't know how to handle."

"Everyone has fears, Wes. It's normal," she says softly, stepping closer. Her presence is like a fire—I shouldn't touch, but the warmth is tempting.

"Normal isn't something I'm familiar with," I admit with a forced chuckle. "I'm used to keeping people at a distance. Close is scary."

"Is that a good thing?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the howling wind.

"Depends on who you ask." My smile is wry. I glance down, watching the snow gather on the tips of her boots.

"Being scared isn't a weakness," she says, her hand finding mine, fingers intertwining. "Trust me, I know. It shows you care about something enough to worry about losing it."

The space between us shrinks, the way ice melts under a relentless sun. We're alone in this snow-clad world—just me, Lexi, and the silent dance of snowflakes around us. The cold bites at my cheeks, but her nearness is a bonfire I can't resist inching closer to.

"Your hands are freezing," she murmurs, her breath crystallizing in the air as it meets mine. Our eyes lock, and I'm entranced by the way her green irises catch the silver glow of the winter moon.

"Occupational hazard," I joke weakly, though humor seems out of place when every nerve-ending screams with the awareness of her. She's close enough that I catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something floral and undeniably Lexi, mingling with the fresh pine of the surrounding forest.

"Here," she says, stepping into the border of my personal space—a line long since blurred. She pulls our joined hands against her chest. The heat from her body seeps into my skin, and I fight back a shiver—not from the cold, but from the electric thrill of her touch.

"Better?" she asks, her voice softer now, laced with an undertone I dare not interpret. It's like we're skating on the same line, performing a duet where every synchronized move matters.

"Much," I admit, and it's the truth. The warmth isn't just physical; it's seeping into the cracks of my guarded heart, heating parts of me I didn't realize were frozen.

Her gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes, and there's a question there—one I've been asking myself since the moment I realized the ‘thing’ between us wasn't just going to fade away. Since I kissed her at the bar. My thumb brushes against her knuckles, a silent answer to an unspoken query.

"Lexi..." Her name is a prayer I didn't know I was devout enough to offer, spoken with a reverence reserved for moments that change your course.

"Kiss me again, Wes," she whispers, a challenge wrapped in vulnerability. And who am I to deny either of us the inevitable?

The last remnants of distance vanish as I lean down, her face tilting up to meet mine. Our lips crash together in a kiss that ignites like a flare in the night, bright and all-consuming. There's no gentleness—it's all hunger and need and raw emotion pouring out after being dammed up for far too long.

Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer, while my hands find the small of her back, anchoring her to me as if she's the only solid thing in a world adrift. The snow continues to fall, dusting us in its silent witness to what feels like an earth-shattering connection.

Time loses meaning when you're tasting heaven, and that's what Lexi's lips feel like against mine—heaven, home, the damn winning goal in overtime. It's passion, it's fire, and it's terrifying in its intensity because kissing Lexi isn't just a kiss—it's a beginning, an admission, a surrender.

And as we break apart for air, panting and still so very close, I realize one kiss will never be enough. Not with her. Not now that I've had a taste of what's behind that stubborn sass and sharp wit. Lexi Turner, the girl who's managed to do the impossible—make Wes Jacobs want more than the thrill of the game.

She's my new adrenaline rush, my playoff season, and hell if I'm not ready to play for keeps. The world's gone white—snow swirling in a frenzied dance that blots out the night. Each flake is another second ticking by, an urgent whisper against the silence between us. They cling to Lexi's hair, turning golden strands into frosted tendrils, and settle on her lashes like delicate crystals. With a mutual sigh, our lips part, and there's this ache, raw and new, as if parting is leaving a piece of myself behind.

"Looks like we're about to get snowed in," I say, my breath fogging the air, a white cloud mingling with hers.

Lexi's arms are still looped around my neck, her body pressed close to mine for warmth, but now there's a shiver that isn't entirely from the cold. "We should probably head back before it gets worse."

There's a reluctance in her voice, one that echoes inside me, raging against the storm that threatens to separate us. I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet, because pulling away feels a hell of a lot like losing something I've only just found. I wonder suddenly, sharply, if she's kissed Noah—but then, I push the question away. She's here with me now.

"Right," I manage to grunt out, finally. But neither of us moves, caught in the gravity of each other's orbit. It's as if we're suspended in those moments after a game-winning goal when the crowd erupts and everything else fades away—except this is more intense, more personal.

Then the wind picks up, howling past us like a warning shot. The cabin light flickers in the distance, our lone beacon in the encroaching storm.

"Damn weather," she mutters, and I catch the glint of disappointment in her eyes, mirroring my own.

"Mother Nature's got terrible timing," I reply, trying to muster a grin.

I grab Lexi's hand, the snow crunching under our boots as we launch into a clumsy sprint toward the cabin. The world is a blur of white, every flake stinging like tiny darts on my exposed skin. She's laughing, the sound somehow rising above the roar of the wind, and it's infectious, pulling a chuckle from me despite the chill that bites at my bones.

"Watch out for the—" I shout, but it's too late. Her foot catches on something hidden beneath the snow, and we're tumbling, a mess of limbs and breathless laughter. Somehow, in the tumble, we end up sprawled across the ground, her on top of me, my arms instinctively wrapping around her to break her fall. We're both gasping, not just from the shock of the fall, but from the absurdity of it all.

"Graceful," she teases, her breath coming out in visible puffs that mingle with mine.

"Years of training," I manage to say, though the cold is starting to leach into my senses, numbing fingertips that are still laced with hers.

“Your shoulder…”

“I’m fine,” I assure.

We scramble to our feet, brushing off the snow that clings to us like a second skin. The wind is relentless, howling around us as if angered by our intrusion into its domain. It's a beast of a storm, the kind that could easily swallow two foolish hearts whole.

"Come on!" I urge, tugging her forward. We half walk, half skate across the icy terrain. And even as the cold seeps deeper, threatening to freeze the moment in time, I can't help but feel the warmth of possibility between us—a heat that no winter can truly touch.

The door slams shut behind us, cutting off the howl of the wind like a switch flipped to silence. My chest heaves, my breaths coming out in white clouds that quickly dissipate in the warmth of the cabin. Lexi's beside me, her body radiating heat despite the icicles practically forming in her sandy blonde hair.

"Safe," she gasps with the thrill of our mad dash through the storm. She's all flushed cheeks and adrenaline, looking more alive than anyone has a right to after facing nature's fury.

"Never doubted it for a second," I lie, trying to steady my own breathing. The truth is, for a moment out there, I wasn't sure if we'd make it back without becoming human snowmen. But Lexi's laugh, free and unguarded, makes every numb finger and frozen toe worth it.

"Your poker face needs work, Jacobs," she teases, brushing snowflakes from her lashes. Even now, she challenges me, but there's an ease between us that wasn't there before—the storm outside somehow melting walls inside. And the kiss didn’t hurt, either.

"Maybe," I concede, "or maybe I just play a different game when it comes to you."

Her smile falters, replaced by something deeper, more intense. There's a question in her gaze, one I'm not sure I have the answer to yet. It's crazy how fast things change—how quickly a person can become your storm and shelter all at once.

"Let's join the others," she suggests, breaking the spell between us. "Before they start sending out a search party."

"Right." I nod, though part of me wants to pull her back into the storm, away from prying eyes and expectations.

As we step into the crowded living room, I catch a look—a silent exchange between Lexi and Noah that sends a sharp pang through me. It's nothing, just a flicker, but suddenly I'm all too aware of the thin ice we're skating on. He definitely has eyes for her, and that could get…complicated.

Great , I think as I watch her disappear into the crowd, just great .

I grab a beer from the cooler, the cold of the can seeping into my hand. I take a long drink, letting the bitterness wash over me, wondering how the hell I'm going to navigate the treacherous path ahead. Because falling for Lexi isn't part of the plan, but neither is watching her dance out of reach.

And the storm outside? It's got nothing on the one brewing in my chest.