Page 116 of ICED
He laughs, low and rumbling. “Only a little.”
He looks at me, something tender and tired in his gaze. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for surviving,” I whisper.
He leans down, pressing his forehead gently to mine. “Always.”
The team coach is nice. Comfortable. Warm. Dimly lit with low chatter and the soft hum of engine noise. Lila’s curled up beside Owen, her head resting on his lap, clutching the foam claw like it’s her most prized possession.
Across the aisle, Dylan’s playing cards with Murphy and Ollie, muttering curses as he loses again. The rookies sit near the back, quietly sharing snacks and trading stories. One of them shyly offers Lila a gummy bear, and Owen raises a brow but lets her take it.
The bus smells like menthol and sweat and aftershave. It smells like family. And I don’t know when it happened, but somehow, we’re part of this.
Lila starts to doze halfway through the ride, Owen stroking her hair absently.
“You alright?” he murmurs, voice low.
I nod. “Watching you fight tonight… it scared me.”
“I figured,” he says quietly. “You were pale after the first hit.”
“It wasn’t just the violence. It was the control. You… didn’t even flinch.”
“I can’t afford to lose control out there,” he says. “That’s not who I am.”
I swallow. “I know. But it still… reminded me. Of other things.”
His jaw tightens. “I hate that.”
“I hate that you got hit.”
“I’d do it again,” he says, looking down at Lila. “For my team. For you.”
Something in my chest stutters.
It’s not the fists that scare me. It’s how much I care. How quickly he’s become home. How easy it would be to fall, and fall hard.
But then Owen meets my eyes again, soft and unflinching. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Maya.”
And I believe him. “I’m not afraid of you.” Maybe for the first time in my life, I believe someone when they say that. I slide my hand across the aisle and take his.
Lila snores quietly. Owen smiles. And I let the rhythm of the road rock us all toward something I never thought I’d find again.
Safety. Warmth. A team.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
JACKO
Lila falls asleep on the coach ride before we even hit the main road.
She’s curled up against me, still wearing that oversized Raptors hoodie Dylan and Mia gave her, with the pom-pom hat tugged low over her brow. Every so often, she twitches in her sleep, nose scrunching like she’s dreaming of chasing unicorns across centre ice.
Maya catches my eye as I glance over. She gives me a soft, tired smile as I hold her hand. Hell, I want to hold both of them, wrap my arms them and keep them safe and never let anything or anyone hurt either of them again. But it’s not just about wanting anymore. It’s need. Bone-deep and aching.
After the brutality of the game, after fists and bruises and blood smeared across my knuckles, the quiet is jarring. The contrast always gets me. One minute I’m throwing a guy into the boards because he took a cheap shot at Murphy, and the next I’m watching a sleeping three-year-old dream of unicorns and pancakes.
I’d rip the world apart for these girls.
