Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 125

**Charlotte**

The rink is louder than I expected. Even before we reach the doors, I can hear voices layered over each other, laughter, and the sharp crack of something hitting boards somewhere inside. The air smells like cold, metal, and people. A lot of people. I slow without meaning to, and Blake’s hand tightens around mine instantly. “I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

I nod, even though my eyes are already moving, taking it in. Cars lined along the road. Pack members I recognise. Others I don’t. Families. Kids in oversized jerseys. The front doors open and close as people move in, spilling noise and warmth out into the cold. It feels… big. Bigger than anything I’ve stepped into in a long time.

Blake doesn’t let go of me as we walk up the steps. His shoulder brushes mine, grounding me with every step. Charlie is just ahead of us, talking to Theo about something I don’t catch, already half in game mode. At the doors, Blake stops. He turns to me, both hands coming up to my face, thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks like he needs to feel that I’m here. “I’ve got to go in the side door,” he says.

I nod again, even though my chest tightens a little. “I know.”

His eyes move over my face slowly as he brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. “You look perfect,” he says.

Heat rushes up my neck. “Thank you,” I manage.

He smiles, soft and a little crooked, then leans in and kisses me. It’s quick, but it gives me the little bit of confidence I need to step in there with all those people. 

“Stay close to Dad,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I will.”

His hand drops back into mine for one last second before he squeezes it and steps away.

Charlie pauses beside him, glancing at me. “Try not to scream too loud when we score,” he says.

I smile. “No promises.”

Blake huffs a quiet laugh, then both of them turn and head toward the side of the building, disappearing into a separate entrance with a few of the other players. I watch them go.

“Come on, love.” Gareth steps in at my side, his hand brushes lightly against my back as he guides me forward. “Have a good game,” he calls after them, voice carrying easily over the noise. Blake lifts a hand without turning around. Then he’s gone.

I draw in a breath and step through the doors. The noise hits me right in the eardrums. It fills the space, bouncing off the walls, rolling down from the stands. The rink stretches out in front of me, bright white ice under harsh lights, boards ringing the edges, people already filling the seats. There’s so much movement everywhere—so many colours, and so much sound. I stop just inside, and Mara’s hand finds mine. “It’s a bit much the first time,” she says gently.

“A little,” I admit.

Her thumb presses once against my knuckles, then she starts guiding me up the stairs, Gareth on my other side. We move through the crowd slowly. People nod to Gareth. Some of them glance at me, their eyes catching on the jersey, on the name across my back. My fingers brush the hem without thinking.

We reach our seats near the front. We’re close enough that I can see the players already moving out for warm-ups, blades carving pale lines into the surface. Mara sits beside me. Gareth takes the seat on my other side. My heart is beating faster than it should be. “You okay?” Mara asks.

I nod. “Just… a lot of people.”

Gareth leans slightly closer, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. “I’ve got patrol all around the place,” he says. “In the stands. Outside. Everyone’s on watch.” I look at him. “And I’m right here with you.”

I ease a little at his words. I can tell where Blake gets his protective instincts from. “Thanks,” I say. He gives me a small nod, then settles back again, eyes already moving over the crowd. I follow his gaze, trying to see what he sees. Now that I’m looking, I can see people who aren’t watching the ice. Men and women are positioned along the edges of the stands, near exits, and at the top of the stairs. They don’t look out of place, but they aren’t here for the game either. They’re watching everything else and watching us. Mara nudges my knee lightly. “You’ll miss warm-ups if you keep staring at the crowd.” I look back at the ice.

Players skate out in lines, passing pucks back and forth, shots ringing off the boards and echoing through the rink. Then I see Blake. He moves differently from everyone else. He’s faster, bigger. His shoulders are loose, his focus sharp, his body already in the game even while the rest of the world blurs around him. He looks up for just a second, and his eyes find me. Even here in a room full of people. His mouth lifts at one corner, and warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the crowd or the noise or the size of the room.

Annabelle and Jessica arrive a few minutes later, slipping into the seats beside Mara with bright faces and flushed cheeks from the cold outside. “Did we miss anything?” Jessica asks, already leaning forward to see the ice.

“Warm-ups,” Mara says. “You’re just in time.”

Jessica’s eyes land on me, then drop to the jersey. Her grin widens. “Oh, my God.”

I laugh, a little embarrassed. “Don’t.”

“No, I’m absolutely going to,” she says. “That’s adorable.”

Annabelle smirks beside her. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” I say, quieter.

Jessica leans closer. “You nervous?”

I glance out at the rink again, watching Blake.

“A little.”

She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You’ll be fine. We’ll scream loud enough for all of us.”

I smile, and the noise builds as more people fill the stands. The lights seem brighter, and the walls seem to shrink. But Gareth is at my side. Mara’s hand rests warm over mine. I’m okay. No one is going to get hurt here. At least not by rogues. These people are fine. I’m not endangering them. I come back to myself as Annabelle and Jessica start arguing about who will get put in the penalty box first. Annabelle says Theo, without missing a beat. Jessica says Blake. I laugh before I can stop myself, and some of the tightness in my chest loosens. The sound gets swallowed by the rink, lost under the scrape of blades and the hum of the crowd, but I feel Mara’s hand squeeze mine once.

Then the whistle blows. The players line up, helmets low, sticks ready, bodies angled toward the puck. Blake looks up one last time, straight at me. I lift my hand and wave. His smile is small, but I see it. Then the puck drops and the rink erupts.