Page 11 of Cold Front
I couldn’t help it; I kept thinking about what I’d overheard.
As the game continued, I found myself stealing glances at the door, wondering if Niall had stayed in the main hall or slipped out entirely. The questions blurred together after that, with my focus split between the game and the puzzle Niall had become in my mind.
By the end of the round, I knew one thing for sure—I wanted to understand him, even if he didn’t want to be understood.
CHAPTER5
NIALL
I woke up before my alarm—the same way I always did. My body didn’t know how to sleep in. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, cutting my room into uneven stripes of light and shadow. Michigan mornings in early September carried a crispness that hinted at fall but hadn’t fully shed the summer warmth. Sliding out of bed, I stretched, the ache in my shoulders a familiar reminder of Friday’s drills.
Routine kept me steady. Without it, the cracks would show. I padded into the bathroom, brushing my teeth with deliberate efficiency. Toothbrush in hand, I leaned against the counter, inspecting the faint shadow of stubble along my jaw. Normally, I shaved every other day, but today wasn’t one of those days. My reflection stared back, tired but tidy.
Back in my room, I picked a fitted long-sleeve performance shirt and lightweight running shorts from my neatly folded drawer. I slipped on a quarter-zip hoodie. Socks, shoes—laces double-knotted—and I was ready.
The clock on my desk read 6:15. Practice wasn’t until eight, but sitting still wasn’t an option. Some guys liked to roll out of bed and head straight to the rink, but I wasn’t built that way. Running wasn’t just physical for me—it was mental. A way to clear my head and set the tone for the day.
Coach Andrew Johnson—Coach AJ, our head coach—wouldn’t mind. He encouraged solo conditioning runs, as long as we didn’t overdo it. “Your body knows your limits,” he liked to say. Mine knew I needed this. The routine, the movement, the space to think—it was all part of staying sharp.
The air was crisp but not cold, hovering in the low 60s. Comfortable enough for a hoodie at the start of a run, but easy to imagine the layers peeling off as the sun climbed higher. A hint of summer still lingered, though the edges of the morning hinted at fall. I started with a slow jog, letting my muscles wake up, before settling into a steady rhythm.
The trail behind campus was my usual route—smooth gravel underfoot, bordered by trees that filtered the early light into scattered gold. It was quiet, except for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird waking up.
Ahead, an older man jogged with his dog, its leash bouncing between them as the Labrador trotted along happily. A student on a bike zipped past in the opposite direction, earbuds in, nodding to the beat of whatever song he was lost in.
As I passed the man and his dog, I gave a quick, automatic “Morning,” the kind you toss out like a habit. He returned it with a warm, hearty “Good morning!” and the dog gave a cheerful bark, tail wagging like we were old friends.
It was the kind of morning that felt perfect, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were tangled in last weekend’s party and the way Eli had stood out, even in a crowd.
I hadn’t meant to watch him, but it was like trying not to notice sunlight through a window. He’d been so at ease, moving through the party like he belonged, in a way that didn’t come naturally to me, not anymore. Laughing, joking, settling into conversations as if he’d known everyone for years.
When he’d disappeared into the smaller room off the main area with Asher and Gigi, something about it had gnawed at me. I didn’t know those two well—just that they showed up to support the Mavericks during home games, and they were the kind of people who majored in art, and things like trivia, Pictionary, and charades were fun for them.
I could picture it too clearly: Eli laughing, maybe teasing someone good-naturedly, the way he probably made everyone in that room feel seen and included. Light and friendly. Exactly what I wasn’t.
My stomach twisted, my pace quickening as if I could outrun the memory. I’d stayed in the corner of the main room, nursing the same drink for far too long, pretending not to notice him. But I had noticed. I’d watched longer than I should have, and when I realized it, I’d looked away so quickly it was almost painful.
Eli didn’t belong in my orbit, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. But that didn’t stop the flash of irritation—or maybe envy—at how easy it seemed for him.
I rounded a bend in the trail, my breath fogging faintly in the cooler patches of shade. My legs burned—not a full-on ache, but the kind of deep fatigue that came with knowing I’d need to shake them out again for practice in a couple of hours. I should’ve kept the run lighter. Just a warm-up, not this.
By the time I got back to the apartment, sweat slicked my skin, the hoodie was tied around my waist, and my lungs burned in that satisfying way that reminded me I was alive. A quick shower later, I was in the kitchen making breakfast. Oatmeal, protein powder, black coffee. No surprises, no indulgences. Fuel, not fun.
Practice was in an hour, and I wasn’t about to be late.
But I couldn’t shake the sense that Eli would linger in my thoughts, whether I wanted him to or not.
* * *
The rink was buzzing when I got there. My teammates were louder than usual, their energy bouncing off the walls like pucks ricocheting in a rebound drill. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
“Did you see Gigi last night?” Micah leaned against the boards, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “She had that whole place in the palm of her hand.”
Micah was always like this. Loud, reckless, mercurial. The guy had talent, sure, but he wasted too much of it chasing a good time. He thrived on chaos, the kind of guy who’d party until 3 a.m. and still show up for practice, smelling like regret and bad decisions.
“Don’t know how you even remember anything,” Nico said, shaking his head as he laced up his skates. “Pretty sure you spent half the night trying to climb on the bar.”
“Hey, gotta keep things interesting.” Micah flashed a grin, completely unbothered by Nico’s jab. “Besides, even Caldwell showed up. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
