Page 116 of Shots & Echoes

I knew exactly what this would cost us.

She wanted that jersey. Team USA. The dream she’d bled for. But now, she was tangled up in me. And if Chambers found out? If anyone found out?

It would all come crashing down.

I exhaled sharply, raking a hand through my hair. I should stop this. I should walk away before it’s too late. Before I ruin the one thing she’s fought for harder than anything in her life.

But then I thought about the way she looked at me last night—the fire, the hunger, the way she fucking melted.

And I knew.

Even if this burned us both to the ground…

I’d never be strong enough to let her go.

I leaned against the window, the cold glass biting into my forehead as I watched Iris carve across the ice like she fucking owned it. Every stride was power, every turn sharp enough tocut. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t falter. She was relentless, the embodiment of everything raw and untamed.

And she was mine.

That truth settled deep in my chest, a weight I had no intention of shaking off. The world outside blurred; it was just her—strong, fierce, unstoppable. I didn’t need to be on the ice to feel the energy radiating off her. It reached me even here, like an invisible tether pulling me closer, daring me to claim her again.

I swore I’d get her that jersey. Not just because she deserved it, but because no one else came close. No one pushed harder, fought longer. She was built for this, and I’d tear through anyone who tried to stand in her way.

This wasn’t just some reckless obsession. It had sunk deeper—into my bones, into my blood. It was raw, a hunger that wouldn’t die, a need to keep her within reach because the thought of losing her made something black and violent unfurl inside me.

Langley. Chambers. Any of them. If they thought they had a shot?

I could already taste the rage on my tongue, bitter and electric. I didn’t just want to keep them away from her—I wanted to make sure they never even considered touching what belonged to me.

My grip tightened against the window frame as I watched her push herself harder, skating beneath the harsh lights, chasing something bigger than herself.

And if it came down to it?

I’d fight like hell to make sure she got it.

Chapter 21

Iris

Coach Callahan gathered us at center ice, his voice slicing through the chatter of skates and sticks. His eyes were hard, locking onto each one of us with a seriousness that sent a ripple of tension across the rink.

“This is what you’ve all been waiting for,” he declared, his tone commanding silence. “Scout’s coming next practice. Two days.”

The weight of those words crashed over me like a tidal wave. I had spent years pushing through bruises, blood, and sweat to reach this moment—the culmination of every early morning, every late-night drill. The final Team USA selections would be posted right after.

But as I stood there, heart racing in my chest, all I could think about was Knox.

The memory of the other night flooded my mind—his hand covering my mouth, stifling my gasps as he pinned me against the lockers. His body had pushed into mine with a desperation that left me breathless. He had taken me like I belonged to him—no hesitations, no apologies. It was raw and chaotic and everything I shouldn’t want but craved all the same.

“Understand?” Coach Callahan continued, pulling me back to reality. His gaze scanned our faces for acknowledgment, but I felt disconnected from the world around me. The urgency in his voice clashed violently with the echo of Knox’s whispers in my ear—those words that stirred something deep within me.

I nodded along with the others, but inside? I was spinning.

My mind replayed every moment—the way he had looked at me with that possessive fire, how he had made it clear I was more than just another player to him. And now here I stood on the brink of everything I ever wanted while still carrying the weight of what we’d done.

It felt impossible to reconcile both parts of my life: this shot at glory and whatever this thing with Knox had become.

A part of me wanted to run back to him—to feel his hands on me again—but there was no time for that now. There was too much at stake.

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