Page 50 of Shots & Echoes

"Anyway, like I was saying, as backup goalie, it's easy to see mistakes others don't…"

Chris was mid-sentence, but his words faded into a distant hum. All I could feel was Knox's gaze wrapping around me like his fingers wrapped around my throat, tightening with every passing second. It pressed against my throat, making it hard to breathe, as if he were willing me to notice him—really notice him.

I locked eyes with Knox across the rink. For a heartbeat, time hung suspended between us. He stood there, muscles coiled tight and expression fierce. My pulse quickened; it felt like we were sharing some unspoken challenge. I half-expected him to stride over, to drag me away from Chris and all this normalcy that suddenly felt fragile.

To say fuck it.

To ruin everything.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he glared at me like I had crossed an invisible line—a line I hadn’t even known existed until that moment. His blue eyes bored into mine, full of an intensity that felt both possessive and dangerous. A shiver ran down my spine as if he were claiming me in front of Chris.

I forced myself to turn back toward Chris, but my heart raced under Knox’s scrutiny. It was ridiculous—ridiculous how one look could unravel everything I'd built up in my head about this practice, this team, and even my own worth on the ice.

“—and I really think if we can just get our passes sharper…” Chris continued, his voice warm and steady, but it felt distant now—like a song playing from another room while a storm raged just outside.

I couldn’t shake the sensation that I was doing something wrong by smiling at Chris—like I had betrayed some silent agreement with Knox. The air thickened between us; it became a battlefield where every flicker of emotion counted.

Knox’s glare hardened further; he looked ready to snap at any moment. My stomach twisted as his presence loomed over everything, a reminder of what it meant to push boundaries on the ice—and off it too.

And there I stood between them, caught in a tug-of-war for dominance that had nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with something far more complicated than either of us wanted to admit.

"Let me shower," I murmured. "And then we can grab food."

"Sure," he replied, taking a step back.

I forced another smile and ducked into the locker room, the heavy air thick with sweat and gear. My foot throbbed, each step sending a sharp reminder of the bruising I’d taken during practice. I focused on that pain as I moved to my spot, hoping it would ground me somehow.

Chris’s voice faded behind me, but the weight of his earlier concern hung in the air. He didn’t push; he never did. That was part of his charm—always ready to support without smothering. But as I peeled off my equipment, my chest tightened further. I needed this shower; the hot water would help soothe my muscles and quiet my racing thoughts.

But even as I stepped into the stall, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing just beneath the surface. The water cascaded over me, warm and comforting, but it did nothing to erase Knox’s glare from my mind. The way he watched me across the rink felt like a challenge, like he was daring me to confront whatever this was between us.

I scrubbed at my skin as if trying to wash away the tension coiling inside me, but all I could think about was how saying yes to Chris felt like a baited hook dangling in front of a predator. The invitation should’ve felt safe—a simple meal after practice—but it felt more like a provocation.

The thought sent a thrill down my spine that I couldn’t ignore. Did I want him to snap? To cross that line?

My heart raced at the possibility; there was something dangerously enticing about it.

I rinsed off quickly and stepped out of the shower, steam rising around me like a shroud. My reflection in the mirror revealed a girl trying too hard to appear unfazed when all she wanted was for Knox’s intense gaze to settle on her again.

Dressing felt like an act of defiance against what lurked in the corners of my mind—the growing chaos surrounding Knox and how he made me feel alive yet terrified all at once.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before heading back out into the world waiting for me beyond these walls.

Chapter 8

Knox

Istood in the rink, jaw locked, watching Chris fucking Langley walk away with Iris. The tightness in my chest spread like a slow, suffocating burn, coiling around my ribs and squeezing until I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe.

And then—she smiled at him.

Laughed, light and easy, like he was someone worth her time. Like he was worth her.

Something inside me twisted so hard it was painful.

That smile wasmine.

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