Page 114 of ICED
Game night is coming, but right now, in this circle of chirps and chaos, I know who I’m fighting for.
And it feels like home.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
MAYA
Lila’s legs bounce so fast on the taxi seat I’m surprised the whole car doesn’t take flight.
“Do you think Bear will see me?” she asks again, eyes glued to the city lights streaming past the window.
I tug the little purple beanie lower over her ears and stroke the pom-pom. “He’ll see you, baby. You look like the team mascot.”
She beams, practically vibrating. Her hoodie sparkles under the streetlights, and the back of it, custom stitched by Mia, apparently, readsJACKSON 47. She’s wearing light-up Raptors sneakers, glitter claw gloves, and that blinking necklace Dylan added “for maximum drama.” Between all that and the tiny foam finger she insisted on bringing, she looks like Raptors Christmas exploded in child form.
She’s never looked prouder of anything in her life.
And I’m smiling, but it’s a tight kind of smile. My stomach’s doing slow, nervous flips. I keep checking the cab doors are locked. Keep glancing out the window even though I know Owen booked this cab through the team. I know we’re safe. But anxiety doesn’t listen to logic. It never has.
He wanted us there. He made sure we’d get there.
But part of me still feels like an imposter stepping into someone else’s real life.
The stadium looms ahead; huge and glowing, alive withenergy. The second we walk inside, the noise hits. People cheering, announcers booming, the heavy bass of pre-game hype music thudding through the floor. It should feel exciting. But it knocks the breath out of me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been to a match before, this is a new city. Somewhere I’ve never been, and the fans tonight seem a lot more fierce than The Raptors home crowd.
Too loud. Too many bodies. Too many exits I can’t see.
I push the panic down.
“This way, Ms. Dawson,” a stadium employee says, leading us to our seats near the glass. Private. Safe. Owen arranged it, thankfully.
Lila grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “I’m gonna wave so hard Bear has to see me.”
She presses up against the plexiglass, practically fogging it up with her breath. “There he is! I see him! A four and a seven!”
And I see him too.
Owen skates in slow, controlled loops, long strides carrying his huge frame across the ice like it weighs nothing. He looks calm. Focused. Intimidating as hell in his gear, but I can still see the softness in his eyes when he turns our way and spots Lila.
He grins, helmet tilted. Taps his stick against the glass twice.
Lila loses her mind. “He saw me! Bear saw me!”
Something blooms warm and full in my chest. Something dangerously like hope.
The game is brutal.
Within the first few minutes, one of the Raptors takes a dirty hit from behind, and the crowd explodes. Lila shrinks into her seat, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Is that allowed?”
“Not really,” I murmur, jaw tight.
Before I can say more, Owen is on the ice. And everything changes.
He doesn’t hesitate. Skates straight for the offender, shoulder-checks him into the boards with enough force to rattle the glass in front of us. The other guy gets up swinging, but Owen’s fists are already flying. Controlled. Measured. Devastating.
He’s protecting his teammate. Doing his job.
