Page 41 of Icebreaker

Axel lowered his weight against my body. "I love you, too."

We had sex two more times in the wee hours of the morning, and through it all, we celebrated our growing love. When Idrifted off into a deep, sated sleep, I knew I'd found the perfect man for me.

The following morning, as we packed up the campsite and loaded the car, Sven hummed a random tune. I caught Axel watching me. He'd stopped filling his duffel bag and just watched.

He hugged me tightly after I pushed my bag into the car's trunk. "Thank you," he whispered, "For being here and being you."

"I'd be stupid to be anywhere else."

The drive back to Portland was full of easy conversation and laughter. The tension of the most recent weeks was fading, and in its place, peaceful sensations reigned.

While he kept his eyes focused on the highway, I couldn't stop staring Axel. He appeared relaxed for a change, and it helped ease my tension.

At Sven's apartment, he insisted on giving us both bear hugs. Before pulling away from Axel, he whispered something in his son's ear that made him chuckle and nod.

"What was that about?" I asked when we climbed back into the car.

Axel shook his head. "It was just Dad being Dad. He wants to make sure I don't let you get away."

"Did you tell him he doesn't need to worry about that? I'm not going anywhere."

Reaching over and taking my hand, Axel brought our fingers to his lips and kissed gently. "That's good because I plan on keeping you with me for a long time."

Chapter thirteen

Axel

Iwoke with Quinn nestled in my arms, his chest rising and falling with each calm breath. We'd begun spending many nights together, first at my apartment and then at his. The warmth of our bodies pressed together with the softness of his hair under my chin put me at peace with the world.

Tightening my hold on him, I savored our connection and relived the memories of our night camping under the stars. I didn't lay it on too thick, but I told Dad the fishing trip was one of his best ideas in recent years.

Quinn's fingertips rested against my forearm, and I smiled as I watched how the morning light illuminated his cheekbones. Hiseyelids moved, and I thought perhaps he was having pleasant dreams, and I hoped I was in them.

He was frequently in mine, a vivid, loving presence. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was content, my heart at ease.

Yet, even at such a wonderful moment, I dreaded that it was only a fleeting state. I knew we had many challenges ahead, and we lived under the spotlight of the sports media.

Still, I had Quinn for the moment, and that was all I needed. The outside world could wait.

The peace was short-lived.

That night, we played a vital home game against the Seattle Kraken. It was in full swing, the crowd roaring every time the puck entered our opponents' zone. I was on point, focused, and a fearsome presence on the ice.

Then, as I looped around behind our goal, preparing to block a pass, I glanced at the stands. It was like a magnet drew me to him—Dante. He sat a few rows up from the rink surface, his dark eyes staring, unblinking, at me.

A chill raced up my spine. The world around me seemed to shift, and the cheers and shouts of the crowd drifted into the background. Time seemed to slow down as he stared back at me. It felt like we were the only two people in the arena.

Why is he here?The question had begun to loop in my head. I tried to turn my attention back to the game and shake off the uneasy sensations that made my skin crawl, but Dante's face lodged itself in my thoughts.

The last time we'd spoken, we exchanged sharp words. I should have known he wouldn't let that lie.

As the puck slid past me, I snapped back to the reality of the game, at least halfway. My movements were mechanical, not as fluid as usual. I felt Dante's eyes on me whenever I moved close to our goal.

He was more than just a haunting face from the past. He was an active threat, and his presence warned of a storm brewing on the horizon.

I didn't have long to wait. The next morning, I woke to a wave of notifications on my phone. One of the top hockey blogs published an article titled "Axel Karlsson: The Dark Story Behind the Scandal." The piece painted me as a heartless villain, willing to twist the truth about my past with Dante. The poisonous words felt like arrows aiming at my heart as I read.

Over the next few days, new rumors spread like wildfire. Other bloggers quoted anonymous sources who claimed I had a history of using and discarding lovers. Social media buzzed with speculation about what I had in mind for Quinn.

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