The Ice Breakers

The puck had stopped moving hours ago, but I could still feel it.

I sat alone in the locker room, the only sound was the faint hum of the ice maintenance crew somewhere beneath the arena. 

My cubicle was spotless, with skates aligned at the right angles, gloves tucked and stick taped exactly the way I liked it, hanging from the hook like a soldier at attention. Everything was just the way it was supposed to be.

My left knee screamed in pain. 

I pressed the ice pack harder against it, ignoring the pain that shot up my thigh. It was the knee I’d had surgery on three years ago, it was the type of injury that had ended some player’s career, but I didn’t let it stop mine. I’d play through the pain, I always did. The trainers didn’t know how bad it was, neither did my teammates. 

My phone buzzed on the bench beside me. 

I picked it up and looked at the screen, it was a text from my sister, Sloane.

Sloane: You still alive?

I typed back with one hand, the other hand still holding the ice pack in place.

Me: Of course 

A picture came in seconds later, it was my sister’s cat, wearing a tiny hockey jersey, with her paws dangling over the edge of the couch, looking as grumpy as always.

My lips twitched into an almost smile. Almost. 

I was still looking at the picture when the door to the locker room slammed open. 

Raffi Vega walked in like he owned the place, still half dressed in his goalie equipment, sweat dripping down his face and chest heaving like he’d played an intense game instead of an optional skate. He took in the scene, me alone, with an ice pack on one hand and phone in the other, the empty locker room enveloping us like a tomb. 

“There you are.” Raffi said, grabbing a towel from a stall to wipe his face.

“The team dinner is happening today, and it’s compulsory fun, those are Coach’s words, not mine.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re never hungry.” Raffi countered, dropping onto the bench across me, his equipment creaking in protest. “You’re never anything, you know that?”

I didn’t give a response.

Raffi leaned back, studying me with the kind of look that suggested he was about to say something I wasn’t interested in hearing. 

“When was the last time you did something that didn’t involve hockey?”

No answer still. 

“I thought as much” Raffi stood, grabbed my jacket from the hook, and threw it at me. It hit me in the chest and dropped to my lap. “Move your ass, there’s a new kid who needs to learn how to be a pro, and you’re in the best position to teach him.”

“The jacket slid, but I caught it before it could hit the floor. “Cassian Pike.”

Raffi nodded, “the one and only. He’s an agent of chaos, you’ll love him.”

I scowled “I won’t love him.”

“You’ll love him.” Raffi repeated, already heading towards the door. “Dinner’s at seven, don’t be late. And leave this stoic suit of yours behind, you’ll need to socialize at dinner.”

The door swung shut behind him.

I sat alone again, the ice pack was now warm against my knee, I pulled it off, and tossed it in the bin, reaching for my jacket.

Cassian Pike.

I’d watched the kid’s game footage, everyone had. The hands, the speed, and the total lack of discipline. He had seven goals in his first fifteen games and twelve penalties to go with them. He played like the game was on fire and he was the water that could put it out. He played like he was trying to prove something. 

I know that feeling, I just learned to hide it well.

I stood, testing my weight on my aching knee, it held. I grabbed my bag, checked my cubicle one last time to make sure everything was in place, then I walked out.

The arena corridors were empty at this time of the night, my footsteps echoed as I walked. I passed the weight room, the captain’s office-my office, and all the other executive offices. Then I stopped at the exit. 

Through the glass doors, I could see the parking lot, the team bus waited there, with the engine running and the light cutting through the dark. Players moved around it, laughing and goofing around with each other, living their lives. 

I watched them for a moment, then I pushed the doors open and walked into the cold.

The noise in the restaurant was almost deafening. 

I sat at the far end of the table, with my water in front of me, and my back to the wall. I could see every entrance from here, every face and every potential problem. It was an old habit from years of being the guy everyone ran to when there was a problem.

The team was scattered around me, veterans on one side, rookies on the other. Raffi tried to bridge the gap by telling a story that involved elaborate hand gestures and lots of laughter.

I wasn’t listening, I was watching the door.

Forty minutes later was when Cassian Pike walked in like he owned the place.

He wore an expensive leather jacket that probably cost more than my entire outfit put together. He paired the jacket with dark jeans and expensive but impractical looking boots. His hair was messy, and his jaw was set as he looked around the room like he was looking for a fight. 

He located our table and walked towards it, completely ignoring the empty seats on the rookies’ side and headed for the bar. 

“Whiskey. Neat.” He said to the bartender.

Someone at the table muttered something too low for me to hear, then someone else laughed in response. 

Raffi leaned back in his seat, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “Kid, you were supposed to be here by seven.”

Cassian took one of the glasses from the bartender and turned, downing the shot in one smooth motion. “I’m aware.” His voice was clear and unbothered. “I’m also aware that I scored the game-winning goal, so let me live a little.”

Someone laughed again, the tension in the air was palpable.

Cassian grinned. He had one of those grins that took over his whole face in a way that made it impossible for one to look away. He grabbed the second glass and walked towards the table.

To the empty seat beside me.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

I looked up at him to study him. Up close, he looked younger than he seemed. He looked like he was twenty or twenty-one years old. But his eyes were older and calculating, like he has seen and experienced things that were above his age. He was definitely hiding something behind his charming façade.

“The seat is empty,” I said. “You can sit where you want to.”

Cassian sat, he was close enough that I could smell his cologne, it smelled sharp and expensive. 

“You seem like a big fan of conversations.” He said sarcastically.

“I’m a fan of winning.” I shot back.

“So am I” Cassian signaled for another drink. “I scored the winner the other night, remember?”

I looked at him. “You also got two penalties and missed your assignment on their goal.”

His smile flickered for a second before slamming back in place, brighter than before.

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel really welcome.”

I picked up my water to take a gulp. “Welcome doesn’t get up championship, hard work and discipline does.”

My words hit home, I saw it in the way his jaw tightened and his fingers curled tightly around the glass. 

But he didn’t back down or look away, instead, he leaned in. 

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Cassian’s voice was lower now, just for me alone to hear. “When you’re sitting alone in the locker room, icing your bad knee, pretending you don’t need anyone?”

I sat still.

He smiled again, but this time, it was deeper and sharper. “I’ve heard people talk about the great Torin Vance, the youngest captain in the history of hockey, the man made of ice.” He bent his head slightly to the side as he continued. “But what people don’t talk about is what happens when the ice melts.”

The moment stretched between us as the noise of the restaurant faded. The laughter, the clink of glasses, the conversations, it all faded into static as we stared at each other. 

I could feel the heat coming off Cassian’s body, I could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared at me, I was sure the same hunger mirrored in my eyes as well. 

“You don’t know anything about me.” I eventually forced out.”

“Maybe I don’t. But, I know you’re still here talking to me when you could have moved somewhere else” His gaze dropped to my lips again, “I know you haven’t looked away since I sat down, and I also know you’re wondering what I’d do if you stopped pretending.

My heart pounded against my ribs, I had to leave this place before I did something silly, like bend him over and spank him for that attitude.

My trousers tightened at the thought. 

Fuck!

I stood immediately, grabbing my jacket. “Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a whole grueling season ahead of you.”

I walked out without looking back, but I felt his gaze on me the whole way, burning through the back of my jacket. 

In the packing lot, I stood and inhaled the cold air, it cut through my lungs and my knee throbbed.

I hadn’t felt this way about someone in years, I hadn’t wanted anyone to look at me like that in years. 

My phone buzzed. I looked at it.

Unknown number: Same time tomorrow, Captain?

I stared at the screen blankly. I should have ignored the text and blocked the number immediately. But, I typed back.

Me: Bring better conversation 

Three dots appeared almost immediately. 

Unknown number: I can’t promise that, but I’ll bring better everything else.

I put my phone away and got into my car. 

I couldn’t sleep that night. 

I kept thinking about the way Cassian had looked at me, like I was someone worth melting for.