Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 94

**Blake**

By the time I step onto the ice, I already know I’m in trouble. I know the drills will be hard, and Coach has that look on his face that says he’s in no mood for excuses. We’ve got a game this weekend, and I should be locked in before my skates touch the rink. But I know I’m in trouble because half of me is still back at the diner. The bond keeps tugging in these little pulses I can’t quite make sense of. It’s making Lex pace under my skin with his ears pricked and his attention turned somewhere several blocks away. Every time I try to focus on the puck in front of me, I feel Charlotte instead. There was a flicker of nerves when I first dropped her off. Then, there was a quiet settling once she was inside. Then warmth. Then what feels almost like amusement, light and quick and gone before I can properly catch hold of it. Theo skates up beside me while we wait for Coach to split us into lines, and one look at my face is apparently enough for him to understand my internal dilemma. “You’re pathetic,” he says under his breath. I don’t even bother looking at him. “Good evening to you, too.” He grins. “I’m serious. Complete that bond already. It’ll send you mad if you don’t.”

He’s not wrong. If the bond were complete, I wouldn’t be standing here trying to read half-felt emotions like some lovesick idiot. I’d know. I’d feel more. I could reach for her via mind link and check on her to see how things are going. Would that be too much? Would it feel like I’m pressuring her? Would Charlotte think I’m crowding her, watching her every move, taking the little bit of normal she’s finally starting to have and wrapping myself around it until she can’t breathe? I don’t want that. I want her safe, and I want her close. I want her in my arms and in my house and in every place I can keep something between her and whatever comes looking. But I also want her to feel free. I want her to choose me, not feel trapped by me. Theo sees all of that cross my face somehow and snorts. “You’re thinking too hard about it.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t. It’s one of my many gifts.” Coach’s whistle cuts across the rink before I can tell him exactly where to shove those gifts, and we break into lines.

I push off, take my place, catch the first pass clean, drive forward, turn, shoot and miss. Coach blows his whistle again. “Atlas. Get your head in the game.”

“Yeah.” He points at me with his stick. “Again.” So I go again. This time, I get the shot on net, but my turn is too wide, and my stop is sloppy enough that the spray off my skates kicks higher than it should. Theo passes me on the next rotation and mutters, “You know, for a captain, this is deeply embarrassing.” I shoulder him lightly as we cross. “You talk a lot for someone who still can’t hit the top shelf under pressure.” He gasps dramatically, clutching his imaginary pearls. “Cruel.”

Coach runs us hard enough that the cold in the rink stops mattering, but none of it sticks the way it should because every few minutes the bond tugs again, and my focus slips. There’s warmth and then a flicker of nerves. Then something else. Calm, but deeper than before… like a quiet wave rolling out. I catch it mid-drill and completely fumble the puck. It skids off my stick and straight into the boards. Theo laughs so hard he nearly misses his own pass, and Coach’s whistle nearly splits the rink in half. “Atlas!” I close my eyes for one second. Right. Shit. Game this weekend. Need to be here. Need to be on. I push myself hard enough to drag my mind back into it. I drive the next drill properly, shoulder down, skates biting hard, pass clean, the shot cleaner. Coach stops glaring quite so much, and Theo only chips me twice instead of every thirty seconds. By the time we scrimmage out the last stretch, I’m back in the game. Still, the second Coach calls it, I’m done.

I’m off the ice and stripping gear so quickly that Theo starts laughing again. “You are an actual joke.” I yank my jersey over my head and point at him. “Drive Charlie home.” Theo blinks. “Excuse me? Where’s the please? Your mother would have your ass for not using your manners.” I ignore him and pull on clean clothes in record time. Then I drag a hand through my hair, grab my keys, and I’m out of there before anyone can keep me longer.

The drive feels too long. That’s the first problem. The second is Lex, who has gone from restless to almost smug in the last five minutes, like he knows something I don’t and is enjoying the fact that I have to sit in traffic while he does. *She is fine,* he says. “That’s not helpful.”

*She is more than fine.* I glance at the road, then at the clock, then back again. “What does that mean?” He doesn’t answer, and I grind my teeth and grip the steering wheel harder. Fuck. Is she okay?

When I finally pull up outside the diner, the windows are glowing yellow against the dark, and there are still a few cars parked out front. I’m out of mine before the engine has fully settled, crossing the pavement in quick strides and pushing through the door with more urgency than I’d like to admit. The bell above it jingles, and I scan the space frantically for my girl. My eyes lock onto Charlotte sitting at one of the tables with Sophie, laughing at something between them, her shoulders loose, her face open, one hand curled around a drink. She looks up, sees me, and smiles wider. That’s it. That’s all it takes. That is exactly what I needed. Every tight, restless, jagged part of me melts straight through the floor. She’s fine. More than fine. She’s happy.

I stand there for one stupid second with my hand still on the door and feel my whole body go soft around the edges because she is looking at me like she’s glad I’m here. Sophie turns in her chair, clocks me standing there like an idiot, and grins. “Well, there he is. The man of the hour.” Charlotte’s cheeks pink just a little, and God help me, I’m done for.