Page 27 of Love so Cold

The buzzer blares, and the score's a dead heat. There's only a few minutes left in the game. A fewminutes to help these kids do something they never thought they could do.

They glide toward me, and they've got that look in their eyes—the "what now?" kinda stare. I can't help but grin; it's like they're handing me back a piece of myself I forgot was missing.

"Okay, listen up," I say, my voice more confident than I expect. "We're gonna switch it up. Tony, you're fast—use it. Draw their defense away. Mike, when you see the gap, pass it to Olivia. She'll be the one to make the final goal."

Everyone nods in understanding and scatters to their places on the ice.

"Victor?" Olivia's voice cuts through the noise, her eyes wide with anticipation and her skates frozen still on the ice.

"Right, Olivia, come here." I wave her over. Avery's presence looms behind me, setting my nerves on edge in the best possible way. I know she's been watching me the entire game, but I found myself not caring, getting so wrapped up in the game and the thrill of it all.

I lean down to Olivia, who mirrors my intensity with a determination that's all her own.

"Olivia," I murmur, just for her ears, "you gotta be sneaky, okay? Hang back, make 'em think you're not a threat. Then, when the moment's right, you dart in, grab that puck, and go for gold. You got this?"

Her smile's all the answer I need. She nods, fierce and focused, before skating off to her starting position.

"Three... two... one..." The referee drops the puck, and they're off again.

"Go, go, go!" I shout, pounding the boards as if my life depends on it. They're moving like they're part of some hive mind, every kid in sync, and I'm at the center of it all, orchestrating each play.

"Pass! Yes! Now!"

Then, like clockwork, Olivia slips in from nowhere, snagging the puck with a swift move that tells me she's been listening, learning. She's a blur of speed and tenacity, racing down the rink with the grace of a pro.

"Shoot!" I scream, my heart in my throat.

The world slows down, just for a heartbeat. The puck slides toward the goal, slipping past the goalie's flailing limbs. The buzzer sounds its long, final note, and the arena explodes into cheers.

"Olivia! Olivia!" The chant rises up from the stands, and the kids are swarming her, lifting her up like she's the hero of the hour—which, hell, she is.

I'm grinning so wide my face hurts, pumping my fists in the air, caught up in the tidal wave of victory. And then I remember—Avery.

I spin around, ready to share the win with her, to let her see the good that this game, these kids, have brought out in me—but the space behind me is empty. Avery's not there.

Chapter Fifteen

Avery

My eyes are rivetedto one place—Victor bending down to Olivia. There's a private exchange happening between them, an invisible thread pulling at the corner of Olivia's lips, making them curl into a smile that lights up her whole face. My heart clenches. She nods, her helmet bouncing with each movement, and Victor's hand briefly rests on her shoulder.

Something inside me shatters, the sharp edges poking at my chest, making it hard to breathe. I've always been the one she looks to for approval, for guidance, but there's something different about the way she's responding to him. It's a longing in her eyes, a yearning for a father figure I can't give her. The guilt is a living thing inside me, coiling tighter with every breath—aconstant reminder that she never knew her dad. "It's not your fault," they say. But they don't know. They don't feel this ache.

I can't stay seated, not now. I'm right up front and out in the open. I can't break in front of all these people. Fumbling with the hem of my jacket, I push myself up from the cold bleachers, my legs moving before my mind catches up. I need space, air, escape.

"Where are you going, Avery?" Jessica's voice is laced with concern, her dark eyes following my hurried steps as I run past our group.

"Nature calls!" I call back, my voice too high, too strained. I can hear Samantha, who's cheering so loudly for Sophia, and Emily, whose nurse's instincts seem to kick in as she watches me with a furrowed brow.

"Last critical play," Samantha shouts, her words almost lost in the din of the crowd.

"Can't miss it!"

But their voices fade as I climb higher, my pulse drumming a frantic rhythm in my ears. Every step upwards takes me further away from the truth I can't face—not here, not in front of them all. I tell myself that I'm not running away, just running toward a moment of solitude. That's what I need. Just a moment.

The bleachers finally end, and I'm alone in the nosebleed section, gulping down the open space like it's fresh water. My heart still races, but now it's from the climb. From up here, the players are just colorful blurs on aglossy expanse of ice, and the roar of the crowd is a distant hum.

I lean forward, hands gripping the cold metal railing, breath misting in the air, eyes searching for number eleven—my Olivia. And there she is, a streak of determination in her team colors. The puck finds her stick, a dance of fate, and she winds up, body coiled.

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