Chapter 2 Ghosts on the Bus

Kerensa's POV

"You're Rhys? Of course you are!" The boy's expression cleared with sudden understanding. "I should have seen it before. You look so much like... " He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "Different, though. Thinner. But it's definitely you."

"No," I blurted, my mind racing. "I'm Rhys."

He blinked, confusion flickering across his face before recognition dawned again.

"Right, that's what I said. Rhys." He extended his hand. "I'm Caleb. We used to live next door to each other, remember? You and I, and your sister Kerensa. We were all friends."

Caleb.

The name sparked a dim memory, a flash of a boy with dirt on his face and a hockey stick in his hand, laughing at something Rhys had said.

Rhys's best friend.

I remembered summer afternoons, the three of us sprawled in the grass, and a version of my life that felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Right," I said slowly, shaking his hand briefly. His grip was firm, familiar in a way that unsettled me. "Caleb. I remember now."

"Man, it's been a long time," Caleb continued, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil. "How have you been? How's your mom? And Kerensa? Is she... is she doing okay?"

The questions came rapid-fire, each one a potential landmine buried just beneath friendly curiosity. I couldn't answer them, not honestly, not without unraveling everything I'd worked so hard to hold together.

"They're fine," I said, turning back to the window and watching the countryside blur past. "Everyone's fine."

"That's good," Caleb said, though I could hear the confusion in his voice, the faint note of hurt at my curtness. "You know, I always wondered what happened to you guys after... well, after everything. Rhys used to talk about Kerensa all the time. He was so proud of his little sister. Always bragging about how smart she was, how tough. Even when those twins were giving her a hard time."

My throat tightened at the mention of the twins. A cold weight settled in my chest.

Xavier and Hunter.

The reason I was living this lie.

The reason my father was rotting in a prison cell.

The reason I had learned to become someone else entirely, piece by painful piece.

"Things changed," I said, my voice flat, forcing down the tremor that threatened to creep into it.

"I guess so," Caleb agreed softly, something like sympathy flickering across his face. "Hey, I heard the twins are trying out too. Xavier and Hunter. You run into them yet?"

My stomach dropped. The twins. Here. At the Academy. Of course they would be. They'd been hockey prodigies along with Rhys, golden boys destined for greatness. Where else would they be?

My real brother had been the third piece of that legend, though few people ever said so aloud, as if speaking it might somehow diminish him. Xavier, Hunter, and Rhys. The three prodigies, people had called them, back when the local rinks still echoed with their names.

Even as a boy, Rhys had moved across the ice like the sport had been invented for him alone, all fearless speed and instinct, our father's pride evident in every line of his face whenever he watched. I used to sit in the stands and feel the whole arena hold its breath as he skated. He'd been groomed for greatness since he could walk, the heir our father had shaped and sharpened for exactly this purpose.

Now I wore his name and carried the weight of that legacy, an impostor skating in a dead legend's shadow.

"No," I said, a little too quickly, my pulse hammering. "Haven't seen them."

"Well, if you do, maybe you could..." Caleb started, then seemed to think better of it, his expression clouding with something unreadable. "Never mind. It's probably not my place."

The bus began to slow, and a wave of relief washed over me. We were approaching the Academy. Soon I'd be free of this conversation, free to disappear into the crowd of hopefuls and become just another face among strangers.

"Hey, Rhys, it was good seeing you again," Caleb said as the bus pulled into the parking lot, his tone hopeful despite everything. "Maybe we could catch up properly sometime? When you're not busy?"

"Maybe," I said, already gathering my bag, my hands trembling slightly with the effort of keeping my composure. "I've got to go."

I didn't wait for his response, practically running down the aisle and off the bus. The fresh air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and the storm of memories Caleb had stirred up.

The twins were here. Caleb was here. How was I supposed to maintain my disguise surrounded by people from my past, people who had known the real Rhys, who might see through the thin veneer I'd spent years perfecting?

The Royal Hockey Academy loomed before me, an impressive structure of stone and glass that spoke of tradition and excellence, of legacies forged on the ice and futures decided in a single game.

This was it.

The beginning of everything.

The cold wave had changed everything.

I adjusted my cap again, squared my shoulders, and walked toward the entrance, doing my best to ignore the nagging voice in my head that kept whispering: What if they find out? What if they discover you're not Rhys at all, but the girl they bullied until she disappeared, the girl everyone believed was gone for good?

I pushed through the doors of the Academy, my determination hardening into resolve. I was Rhys now. Rhys, the hockey player. Rhys, the brother who had died protecting his family. I would carry that name like armor, no matter how heavy it became.

And I would not fail.

I followed the staff member's directions to the office, collected my key, and made my way to the dormitory.

My door.

The key to room 307 felt slick with sweat in my palm. I took a steadying breath, the sterile scent of the hallway doing little to calm the frantic beat of my pulse. This was it. The first step. I turned the key, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet corridor, and pushed the door open.

The room was larger than I expected, with three beds arranged against the walls, but I didn't see any of it. My entire focus narrowed to the two figures standing by the far window, their silhouettes framed by the afternoon light. I would have known them anywhere, even after seven years.

The way one stood, all coiled energy and restless limbs, marked him as Hunter.

And the way the other held himself, perfectly still and radiating an icy control, marked him as Xavier.