Page 84 of Shots & Echoes

I caught his eye again and felt that familiar rush—anger and longing battling for dominance within me. Did he really think I needed saving? Or was this just another game for him? The way he watched me made me question everything: my game, my focus, even myself.

The air crackled with unspoken words as I took a deep breath and steadied myself for the next drill, pushing away the weight of his gaze while simultaneously craving it more than ever.

I struggled to focus on the next drill; the puck slipping away from my stick as if it sensed my distraction. Knox’s presence loomed like a shadow over the ice, and every time I glanced in his direction, it felt like I was stepping into a trap.

But the way he said it?

Let her work it out.

It didn’t just sting; it wrapped around me like a noose. It wasn’t just about hockey anymore; it was about him. About us.

I skated hard into the next battle, forcing myself to push past the haze clouding my thoughts. My body collided with Brooke’s in an attempt to prove I still had something left to give. The hit knocked me back slightly, but I recovered quickly, refusing to let her see how much I struggled.

I met his gaze defiantly, feeling that familiar heat rising within me. The fire in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine—a dangerous thrill mixed with dread.

In that moment, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of him looming over me even without touching me—his intensity wrapping around my throat like a vice grip. It was maddening and intoxicating all at once, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

Doubt gnawed at my insides like an unwelcome parasite. What was going on? Was I really just fighting for a jersey anymore? Or had Knox Callahan woven himself so tightly into my thoughts that he’d turned everything upside down?

Every move I made on the ice felt more significant now—not just for myself but for him too.

I breathed a sigh of relief as practice finally ended. My legs felt like lead, and I skated off the ice, grateful for the brief moment of silence that followed the chaos of drills and pucks flying everywhere.

I headed into the locker room, showered quickly, grabbed my stuff and left. I didn't want to linger.

I caught sight of Chris waiting by the bench, his smile bright against the dim rink lights.

“Hey, Evans!” He jogged over, a familiar ease about him. "Need help with your bag?"

“Thanks,” I replied, forcing a smile as he hoisted it over his shoulder like it was nothing. It felt nice to have someone willing to lend a hand, but my heart wasn’t in it. Not like it should have been.

He glanced back at me while we walked toward the exit. “You know, if you worked on your puck handling just a bit more?—”

“Chris,” I interrupted gently, trying not to sound too dismissive. “I know.”

He shrugged with an earnest look. “Just saying, if you focus on that part of your game, you’ll be unstoppable.”

“Right.” I nodded, though the weight of his words fell flat in my mind. “Thanks for looking out.”

He turned to face me fully as we stepped outside into the crisp air. “Want to grab food later? We could hit that new place down the street.”

The invitation felt harmless enough—a friendly gesture—but as he reached out and touched my shoulder lightly, warmth blossomed there for a split second before it fizzled out completely.

“Yeah… maybe,” I managed to reply, forcing enthusiasm into my voice even though something deep inside me cringed at the touch.

He leaned in closer, eyes bright with encouragement. “You’ve got so much potential; just keep pushing yourself! You’re already one of the best on the team.”

His words should have made me feel something—pride or excitement—but all I could think about was Knox’s voice cutting through practice like a whip crack and how much more alive I felt under his gaze.

I tried to shake off that thought; it didn’t belong here—not now.

“I appreciate it,” I said slowly, wanting desperately to feel something more with Chris but knowing it would never be enough.

It wasn’t him. It was never going to be him.

“You know what? Dinner sounds good,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt like it belonged to someone else.

Chris grinned, the kind of bright smile that could light up a room, but all I could feel was the dull ache settling in my chest. I wanted to believe this was enough—to convince myself that maybe I could still carve out a normal life, one that didn’t revolve around the chaos swirling inside my head every time Knox Callahan entered the room.

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