Page 13 of Dice & Dekes

Knight and I click like we always do—twin telepathy through osmosis. I pass, he shoots, I retrieve, he crashes the net. Easy. Familiar. But the entire time, my focus keeps drifting back to Violet on the bench, scribbling notes, and to Knova—who isn’t here but is in my head anyway. Like always.

I wonder if she’s still thinking about this morning. About the ring. About my hands.

About my mouth.

I wonder if I’ll ever get the smell of her out of my brain.

“Eyes up, Abbott!” Coach barks as a puck nearly takes off my kneecap.

I recover fast, but the flush of embarrassment is instant.

Knight raises a brow. “You good?”

“Yup,” I lie.

He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press. That’s the thing about Knight. He’s annoying as hell, but he respects the line when it matters.

After a few more cycles, Coach calls a quick water break, and I peel my helmet off, breath sawing out in the cold air. Lenyx skates past, giving me a once-over like he’s trying to decide if I’m about to die or just pass out.

“Good hustle,” he says. “For someone who looked like roadkill this morning.”

I smirk. “Don’t get cocky, rookie. Your hair’s still prettier than your slapshot.”

Camden howls in the background.

Violet walks past, close enough I catch the faint scent of grapefruit and eucalyptus. She’s jotting something on her clipboard but glances up long enough to lock eyes with me.

“Nice recovery after that puck,” she says dryly.

“I was distracted.”

“Uh-huh.” She glances pointedly toward where Lenyx is chugging water like it owes him rent. “Try not to let the pretty boys throw off your game.”

My lips twitch. “Too late.”

The whistle blows again, and we all groan but obey, skating back into formation like good little soldiers.

As practice winds down, my legs are jelly, and my head’s still buzzing—but it’s not from the hangover anymore. It’s from the idea that maybe, just maybe, this accidental marriage is the start of something real.

But if I want a shot with Knova, I’ve got work to do.

And it starts with showing her I can handle the long game.

On the ice.

And off it.

Chapter Three

Knova

“Ohmigawd, babe!” The woman seated behind me presses her face to the window. “This is, like,sooooobeautiful! You’re so thoughtful!” Her voice, already high-pitched, has taken on an even shriller quality in an attempt to be heard despite the noise-cancelling headphones.

Look, I’m in favor of letting women do whatever they want to do, but I will never for the life of me understand why some ladies feel the need to talk like they’re little kids instead of grown-ass women. The baby voice she’s been doing since I picked them up makes me want to take her aside and talk sense into her.

The guy beside her has his knees splayed out and keeps adjusting himself. Ugh. That’s even worse than the baby voice. “Look at all that desert, babe.”

“Iknow!” the woman squeals. “It’s, like, incredibly majestic, you know?”

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