Page 74 of Shots & Echoes

Frustration clawed at me as I buried my face in my pillow, trying to muffle the thoughts swirling in my head. But Knoxcrept back in with every breath I took. The way he leaned in closer during practice had left me breathless, his voice a low whisper against my ear—You can’t pretend you don’t feel it.

God, how did he do this to me? My heart raced just thinking about him. My thighs pressed together instinctively as if that would somehow quench the fire he had lit inside me. The shame washed over me like ice water; how could I want him?

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing myself to think about something else—anything else—but every time his image slipped away, it only returned stronger and more vivid than before.

My fingers curled into fists under the sheets as I fought against it all—the desire battling against reason. This wasn’t who I was supposed to be. A good player wanted safety; a smart player kept her distance from chaos.

But Knox wasn’t just chaos; he was intoxicating, reckless—and part of me craved every dangerous moment we shared on that ice. And that realization twisted inside me like a knife.

I hated myself for wanting him like this—hated myself for letting him into my head when all he should be is a coach guiding me toward a jersey with Team USA stitched on it.

Yet there I lay—lost between what felt right and what made me feel alive—and all I could do was stare at that ceiling and wait for sleep to finally take me away from this torment.

Deep down, I knew what this was. Knox wasn’t just some passing crush; he was the storm on the horizon, dark and looming, threatening to tear apart everything I’d built. The safety of my routine, the warmth of my dad’s encouragement—it all felt so fragile in comparison to what Knox represented.

He was the chaos I craved but also the very thing that could ruin me. The more I thought about him, the more I wanted to lean into that danger. I couldn’t deny how alive he made me feel—how every glance from him sent shivers racing through mybody. It was thrilling and terrifying, and part of me hated myself for wanting it, anyway.

I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up again.Focus on hockey,I reminded myself.Focus on the jersey.

But every time I pictured that emblem stitched across my chest, all I could see was Knox standing behind me, his eyes fierce with intensity. How could he make something so important feel secondary?

I remembered the way he challenged me during practice—the way his voice had dropped low when he asked if I was ready to fight for what I wanted. His words echoed in my mind like a siren song. He made me want to rise above—to push harder than anyone else ever had.

But at what cost?

He could burn it all down—the dreams I had worked for, the approval from my dad that meant everything. And yet here I was, torn between ambition and desire, caught in this web he’d spun around me.

I shook my head as if that would clear my thoughts, but it only made them swirl faster. Knox Callahan—my coach, my distraction—had infiltrated every corner of my mind and heart. No amount of denial would change that.

Maybe it was time to accept what I felt instead of fighting against it. Maybe embracing that fire was better than living in fear of getting burned. As scary as it sounded, part of me yearned for whatever chaos came with him.

The morning lightfiltered through my window, casting a soft glow across the room. I pushed myself out of bed, determined to reclaim my routine. Structure grounded me; it always had.

I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed the protein shake I had prepared the night before. The cold liquid slid down my throat as I reminded myself that today was just another day of practice.

I moved through my stretches with practiced precision, each movement deliberate and familiar. The pain in my foot still throbbed, but it was manageable. Taping it up felt like a ritual—an armor against whatever came next on the ice.

Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror, glancing at the poster of Team USA plastered on my wall. It showed fierce athletes in their glory—focused, strong, untouchable. Each time I looked at it, determination surged within me.

But today? Today, all I could see was Knox’s face reflecting back at me.

His gaze haunted me—the way he looked at me during practice last night like I belonged to him already. My heart raced just thinking about it, a forbidden thrill curling in my stomach.

I tried to shake it off as I tightened the last wrap around my foot, but there was no escaping the truth: part of me wanted to belong to him.

Focus on hockey,I thought again as I tugged on my gear and laced up my skates with purpose. But as much as I wanted to drown out his influence with routine and discipline, his presence loomed large in every corner of my mind.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror again—a fierce competitor staring back—but all I felt was that strange mix of longing and anxiety swirling inside me. What would happen if this desire took hold? What if giving in meant losing everything?

The more I fought against those thoughts, the more they tightened around me like a noose. I turned away from the mirror and headed for the door, but Knox’s smirk lingered in my mind—so sure and confident.

This was supposed to be about earning that jersey—my future—but somehow he’d twisted everything into something else entirely.

My phone buzzed as I made my way to the rink, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced down to see Chris’s name flashing on the screen.

How’s the foot? Want to grab coffee before practice?

His text felt like a warm hug on a chilly day. Sweet, simple, genuine—everything that made Chris a safe choice. I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to type out something quick and dismissive, but another part—a louder part—reminded me how nice it felt to have someone care.

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