Burning Ice - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Not the oppressive kind, but the soft, steady kind, broken only by the sound of Billie's breathing. For a second, I didn't move. Didn't open my eyes. Just let myself feel it and the warmth of her body next to mine, the weight of her hand resting on my chest.
I was still in her bed.
The sunlight was peeking through her curtains, cutting faint lines across the wall. I could feel the faint ache in my muscles, the kind you get after a night that was too long and not long enough all at once. My head was still heavy with everything we'd said, everything we'd done.
Billie stirred beside me, her fingers twitching against my skin, but she didn't wake up. Her hair was a mess, half falling into her face, and her cheek was pressed into the pillow. I couldn't stop staring. She looked softer in the morning light, like the sharp edges she wore so confidently were dulled, smoothed out by sleep.
And just like that, last night came rushing back.
Her call. The ice cream. The way we talked about things we never told anyone else, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I could still feel the ghost of her fingertips on my jaw, the way her lips trembled before I kissed her. I didn't plan on staying the night, I didn't even plan on kissing her but there wasn't a force in the world strong enough to make me leave once I'd touched her.
Now, lying here, the weight of it all settled on my chest. This wasn't some line we could pretend we didn't cross. It was a leap, a full-blown dive into something I wasn't sure either of us was ready for.
And yet, I wasn't scared. Not of her, not of what this could mean.
I should've felt guilty. I should've been worried about how this would change things between us. But all I could think about was how right it felt. Like I'd been holding my breath for years, and last night, for the first time, I finally exhaled.
Billie shifted again, her face turning toward me, and her eyes fluttered open. Sleepy, unfocused, but when they landed on me, a soft smile tugged at her lips.
"Morning" she murmured, her voice rough from sleep.
"Morning" I said, my own voice quieter than I expected.
Neither of us moved, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist. Just her and me, tangled up in her bed, caught in a moment I didn't want to end.
But eventually, it would. It always does. The question was, what would happen when it did?
Lying there in Billie's bed, I couldn't shake the feeling that last night wasn't just about attraction. Sure, that had been part of it—I'd have to be blind not to notice how she looked at me, how I couldn't stop looking at her—but it was more than that.
It was the way she'd opened up, the way her voice cracked when she talked about her dad, like she was holding pieces of herself together and didn't realize she didn't have to. Not with me. It had hit something in me I didn't even know was still raw.
I didn't talk about my dad. Ever. Not because I couldn't, but because there never seemed to be a point. People either pitied you or judged you, and neither felt worth the trouble. But with Billie, it didn't feel like I was explaining myself, it felt like she already understood.
I kept thinking about the way she'd looked at me, her eyes soft but steady, like she wasn't afraid of what she'd see if I let her in. I hadn't expected to tell her everything, but once I started, it all came out. The resentment, the questions I never got answers to, the way it still messes with my head sometimes, even now. And when I finished, she didn't try to fix it or make it better. She just... listened.
Maybe that's why it felt so natural to stay. After everything we shared, walking away would've felt like breaking something fragile, something neither of us had the words for yet.
The weight of it settled on me now, heavier than the morning light filtering through her curtains. Last night wasn't just about the physical it was about finding someone who saw the parts of me I'd kept locked away and didn't flinch. It was about me doing the same for her.
I knew it wasn't simple. Emotions like that, the ones that sneak up on you and leave you breathless, don't come without consequences. We'd crossed a line, but it didn't feel wrong. It felt like we were both searching for something, comfort, understanding, maybe even just a reprieve from the ache we carried and for one night, we'd found it in each other.
Now, though, in the light of day, I wasn't sure what came next. I didn't know if Billie would regret it, if she'd try to brush it off as some emotional fluke. But I did know one thing was that I didn't regret it. Not one second of it. Because for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone in what I carried.
And maybe, just maybe, neither did she.
I should've been worrying about what last night meant and about the line we'd crossed and how the hell we'd go back to whatever we were before. But sitting here, watching her wake up, those thoughts barely registered.
She smiled small, sleepy, but real. And just like that, an idea hit me. One that probably wasn't the smartest, given everything going on between us. But seeing her like this, her guard down for once, I didn't care.
"Come to my game tonight" I said, the words slipping out before I could overthink them.
Her brows furrowed as she turned to look at me. "Your game?"
"Yeah. It's a home game. Good seats. I'll put your name on the list."
I knew how risky this was. We'd been spending a lot of time together lately, late night drives, random messages, the kind of stuff people notice if they're paying attention. And inviting her to my game? That wasn't exactly subtle.
But right now, I didn't care about any of that. I wanted her there. I wanted to look up into the stands and see her watching me. Not as some fan, not as someone who didn't matter but as Billie.
"I don't know, Nate..." She bit her lip, looking unsure.
"You'll have fun.Free hockey, good food. I mean, what's not to like?" I said, leaning in a little closer.
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile. "I don't know anything about hockey."
"Perfect. I'll teach you."
It wasn't much of an argument, and we both knew it. I could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she was weighing the risk in her head. But I also saw something else, a flicker of curiosity, maybe even excitement.
"Okay" she said finally, her voice quiet but sure. "I'll come."
I didn't realize how much I'd wanted her to say yes until she did. A grin spread across my face, and for the first time in a while, I let myself enjoy the moment without worrying about what it meant.
Because, yeah, this thing between us might be risky. It might even blow up in my face. But right now, with her agreeing to show up tonight, it felt worth it.
Her "okay" was still hanging in the air, and before I could even think twice, I was leaning in. It wasn't calculated, wasn't planned—just instinct. She was so close, her lips curving into the faintest smile, and I couldn't help myself.
The moment her lips met mine, it felt easy. Natural. Like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
It wasn't like last night, not as desperate or heavy with unspoken feelings. This kiss was lighter, softer, almost playful. My hand found her jaw, my thumb brushing the edge of her cheek as I tilted her face toward me. Her skin was warm under my touch, and when she kissed me back, I felt the smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
When we finally pulled apart, I stayed close, resting my forehead against hers. Her eyes fluttered open, and I could see the mix of surprise and amusement there.
"What was that for?" she asked, her voice low, teasing.
I grinned, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You said yes."
"To a hockey game" she pointed out, but there was no bite in her words, just that soft, familiar warmth I couldn't get enough of.
"Still counts" I said, and kissed her again, quick and light this time, just because I could.
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed, and I knew she wasn't really annoyed. If anything, she looked happy. Relaxed, even.
And seeing her like that? Yeah, that was enough to make the risk of tonight worth every second.
Leaving Billie's place wasn't as easy as I thought it'd be.
Not because she asked me to stay... she didn't. In fact, she'd gotten up and made us both coffee, sitting cross-legged on the couch like it was any other morning. But that's what made it hard. I didn't want to leave because for once, things felt... simple. Easy.
But I had a game to get ready for, and the real world was waiting, no matter how much I wanted to stay in hers.
"You sure about tonight?" I asked, lingering in the doorway longer than I needed to.
She looked up from her coffee, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."
That was all I needed. With one last glance at her with her hair still messy, an oversized sweatshirt swallowing her frame, I turned and headed out the door, already counting down the hours until I'd see her again.
The drive home felt longer than usual, my head full of her and everything that had happened between us. The way she looked at me last night, like I wasn't just some guy she called for ice cream. The way she trusted me with her secrets, her fears. And the way her lips felt against mine this morning... soft, warm, like they belonged there.
But as I pulled into my driveway, reality started creeping back in. I had a game tonight, and I needed to focus. No room for distractions, no matter how tempting they were.
In the locker room, the usual pre-game buzz was in full swing, guys joking around, music blasting, the air thick with that mix of nerves and adrenaline I'd come to love.
But my head wasn't all the way there. I went through the motions, taping my stick, pulling on my gear but my mind kept drifting to the stands. To Billie.
What if she didn't show? What if she changed her mind, decided this was all too much? Or worse, what if she did come, and I couldn't shake the way I felt knowing she was there, watching me?
"You good, man?" Connor, one of my teammates, clapped me on the shoulder, snapping me out of it.
"Yeah" I said, forcing a grin. "Just ready to play."
He nodded, oblivious to the storm in my head, and walked off to finish getting ready.
I took a deep breath, letting the familiar rituals of game day ground me. This was what I'd trained for, what I'd worked my ass off to achieve. Billie being there didn't change that. If anything, it made me want to play better to prove to her, and maybe even to myself, that I was more than the guy she called when things got heavy.
As I laced up my skates and pulled on my jersey, I told myself to focus. The game came first. Always.
But as we lined up in the tunnel, waiting to hit the ice, I couldn't help scanning the crowd, wondering if she was already here.
And if she was, I hoped to hell I'd give her something worth watching.
The energy in the arena was electric, the kind of buzz that made your skin prickle and your blood pump a little harder. From the moment I hit the ice, everything felt right, the weight of the puck on my stick, the way my skates cut through the ice, the roar of the crowd after every play. This was my zone, where everything else faded away.
Or at least, that's how it usually was.
Tonight, it was different.
It started during warmups. I was stretching at center ice, looking up at the crowd without really meaning to, when I saw her. Billie.
She was sitting a few rows back, casual as hell in a jacket that looked way too big for her, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was sipping a soda, her eyes scanning the rink like she was trying to figure out what the hell she'd gotten herself into.
She looked completely out of place and completely perfect.
While everyone else around her was decked out in jerseys and screaming their lungs out, she just sat there, calm and steady, her beauty shining like a spotlight. I couldn't take my eyes off her. It wasn't just how she looked; it was the way her energy radiated even in a place like this. She didn't have to yell or cheer to stand out. She just... did.
The whistle blew, snapping me back to reality, and I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. This was no time to get distracted.
The game started, and everything clicked. My passes were sharp, my shots on target. I was in the zone, and I could feel every stride, every play, like the ice was mine to control.
But every now and then, I'd glance at the stands, searching for her without even meaning to. And every time I found her, it was like a jolt of electricity straight to my chest. She wasn't cheering, wasn't on her feet like some of the fans. She was just watching, her gaze locked on me like I was the only player on the ice.
It made me want to play harder. Better. To show her why I belonged here.
Halfway through the second period, I made a break for the puck, weaving through two defenders before firing it past the goalie. The horn blared, the crowd went wild, and I let myself glance up at her again.
She was smiling, not a big, over-the-top grin, but something softer. Something just for me.
My chest tightened, and for a second, I forgot about the game, the crowd, everything. All I could think was how much I wanted to be the guy who put that look on her face every day.
By the time the final whistle blew, we'd won, and I'd had one of my best games in weeks. The team was celebrating, slapping each other on the back, but all I could think about was Billie.
As I skated off the ice, I glanced at the stands one last time, and there she was, waiting. Calm, beautiful, and completely out of place in the best way possible.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't just playing for myself—I was playing for her.