Page 35 of Dice & Dekes

“She was smiling,” he says like it’s a war crime.

“I’m aware.” And yeah, maybe I felt like the king of the fucking universe seeing her smile while sharing a plate of garlic mashed potatoes. Sue me.

Cam strolls in, interrupting the tension like he always does—loud and unbothered. “Yo, Vik. Word on the street is that Knova thinks you’re funny now. What’s that like?”

“She always thought I was funny,” I say, pulling off my hoodie. “She just hated herself for laughing.”

“Tragic. Star-crossed. Shakespeare would weep,” Cam deadpans.

Tristan passes behind us with a towel slung around his neck. “How many chapters into this frenemy thing are we now? Because from the outside, it’s reading like a romcom.”

“It’s not a romcom,” I mutter.

“It’s a slow burn,” Lenyx calls from his stall. “Like, twelve seasons on Netflix slow. Then the Mr. Darcy hand flex.”

“Jesus.” I tug my pads tighter. “You guys get bored this easily between games?”

Knight huffs and plops onto the bench like my face offends him. “You didn’t tell me she was coming.”

“Didn’t know she was until she said she was.”

“She’s wearing your jersey.”

I look up at that. “Nope. It’s not my jersey. It clearly has SAVAGE across the back.”

Tristan raises one eyebrow. “Same shit.”

I rub the heel of my hand over my chest, where my logo sits stitched to my heart. The idea of her walking around in something that matches this—it does something to me. Stirs something. Feeds the fire I’ve been choking down since the second we got fake-married in a haze of tequila and questionable decision-making.

“You should’ve seen his face when she showed up,” Knight says with a pointed look.

“And what did your face look like when she left your house in the middle of the night, Daddy?” I shoot back.

The chirping stops just long enough for Tristan to mutter, “Tension. So thick. I could cut it with a skate blade.”

I hit the ice with too much energy in my legs and not enough clarity in my head. When I glance at Knova, she gives me two thumbs up. Which is substantially better than two middle fingers, indicating she doesn’t hate the present I gave her.

I try to shake off the distraction during warmups. Focus on puck handling, stick work, edge control. But every time I coast near the boards, my eyes flick up, and sure enough—there she is.

Knova. VIP section. Right next to Sofia. Wearing the jersey.

Okay, Imighthave kissed it.

No name on the back. Just one word:

SAVAGE.

Goddamn right.

The puck drops, and I snap into motion.

Cam wins the first faceoff, and he’s off like a shot. Tristan dumps it deep, Cam chases it down, and Tristan takes a hit in the corner that leaves the crowd groaning—but he pops back up like a damn cyborg.

Shift change. My turn.

I take the ice with Knight and Lenyx, and the second the puck touches my stick, everything sharpens. The world goes still.

I see the seam. I split the D.

---