Burning Ice - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The locker room buzzed with excitement as the team celebrated their first win of the season. Cheers and laughter filled the air, and the smell of sweat mixed with the scent of beer as the guys popped open bottles, toasting to the victory. The locker room felt alive, and for the first time in a long while, I could finally feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.
I leaned back against the row of lockers, a wide grin spreading across my face as my teammates shouted and slapped each other on the back. The rush of winning a real win, the kind that reminded me why I was here was exactly what I needed. My body ached from the game, but the adrenaline still buzzed through me, and the excitement of the season ahead felt like a spark of new life.
I had been carrying so much weight lately with my dad, the pressure to perform, my mind spiraling with thoughts of her but tonight, none of it mattered. The roar of the crowd, the feeling of the puck hitting the back of the net, and the high from the win.. it all erased everything else. The world was simple again. Hockey. The game. My brothers on the ice.
As the guys gathered around, someone cracked open a loud cheer, and the next thing I knew, I was pulled into a group hug, laughing and pretending to punch the guy next to me in a half-drunk haze. The atmosphere was carefree, something I hadn't felt in a while. It wasn't about the pressure, or what came after. It was about the moment, the victory, the feeling of being alive. And for the first time in a long time, I could breathe easy.
I looked around at the guys, and it hit me that this was why I played. This was why I pushed myself. It wasn't just the fame or the money or the headlines. It was the camaraderie, the love for the game. And tonight, I remembered that.
I grabbed a bottle, raising it to my teammates, a smile still on my face. "To a great start," I said, my voice hoarse with excitement. "TO
US!"
The cheers erupted, and I laughed, finally feeling the tension ease from my chest. The game had given me the release I'd been searching for.
And for just a few moments, nothing else mattered.
I took another sip of my beer, the cold liquid dulling the sharp edge in my chest, but not enough to quiet the sudden nagging thought.
Still no word from my dad. Not a call, not a message. Nothing. I'd been trying to push it out of my mind all night, letting the celebration drown out the emptiness. But even here, surrounded by laughter and my teammates, I couldn't ignore the ache.
Why did it still bother me? After all these years, after everything he'd put me through—why the hell did I still crave his approval?
Maybe it was just the way he'd always been, withholding, like I had to prove myself to him, earn any scrap of attention. But I'd learned the hard way that I'd never get it. So why was I still hung up on it?
I shoved the thought aside and forced myself to focus on the guys around me, the music, the game. The win felt good, damn good, and for a second, it was easy to forget about the old man. But that empty space of his absence still gnawed at me, even in the middle of the chaos.
The team had moved from the locker room to a nearby bar, a regular spot we hit after every win. The place was packed with fans, the hum of excitement still lingering in the air from the game. Neon lights bounced off the dark wood of the bar, and the familiar clink of bottles and glasses filled the background as my teammates crowded the high tables, already claiming space in the middle of the chaos. The jukebox was playing a mix of rock and anthems, blending with the chatter and laughter.
I leaned against the bar, my feet sore but my body buzzing with adrenaline. The whole atmosphere felt like a release, a celebration not just of the win but of everything that had led up to it. The smell of fries and fried wings mixed with the distinct aroma of beer, and people were congratulating us left and right, calling us heroes. It was almost too much. But it was the kind of too much I didn't mind.
The guys were all buzzing, loud, clapping each other on the back. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment except the victory, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of it lift off my chest.
Then I noticed them. The puck bunnies. Like a pack of hungry hyenas they locked eyes on me like I was prey.
I couldn't completely ignore them, not with the way they hovered just a little too close, leaning in with that same practiced sweetness. They were persistent, trying to catch my eye, hoping I'd bite. So, I did. A slight nod in their direction, a half-smile just to acknowledge their presence. It was enough to keep them interested, but not enough to make me the target of their attention.
One of them leaned in closer, her perfume heavy in the air, trying to make small talk about the game. I let her chatter on for a bit, offering vague answers, just enough to keep the conversation flowing. But in the back of my mind, I was already thinking about getting the hell out of here.
I was here to celebrate a win, not entertain. And while it was flattering for a second, the attention felt shallow, forced. I could tell they weren't genuinely interested in me, just the idea of what I represented. Another player, another victory, another night of fun.
When they got a little too close for comfort, I pulled back, scanning the room for any excuse to slip away. I wasn't rude, but I wasn't staying in this game either. My eyes drifted over to other side of the bar, where the guys were laughing, and I knew that's where I needed to be. I gave them one last polite smile before walking away, the faint echo of their disappointed sighs following me as I made my escape.
I was sitting at the bar, feeling the buzz of the night kick in, the laughter and chatter from my teammates filling the space. I was starting to feel good, letting go of the tension that had been eating at me all week. Tonight, I was just a guy at a bar with a drink in his hand, celebrating with the team.
But then the door opened.
My gaze shifted instinctively, and there she was. Billie.
I hadn't expected her, not here, not now. She stepped in like she owned the place, wearing a tight black latex dress that clung to every curve of her body. Her hair was pulled back, sleek and sharp, exposing the smooth line of her neck. My breath caught in my throat. There was a moment, just a second, where my whole body froze.
She moved with this confidence that made everything around her seem to pause. I felt a jolt of something deep in my stomach, something like shock, mixed with a raw heat that caught me off guard. My heart rate picked up, and it was like the air got thinner. The rest of the bar faded away, the noise dulling in my ears as my focus zeroed in on her.
How was I supposed to enjoy tonight when all I could now think about was her? She was right there, so close, and I knew if I looked at her for one more second, I'd be locked in her orbit all night. And as much as I wanted to look away, as much as I told myself I should, I couldn't.
I tried to look casual, tried to focus on my drink, but the tension in my chest wasn't going anywhere. The thought of spending the rest of the night trying to ignore her was almost impossible.
My gaze didn't leave Billie as she made her way deeper into the club, but then something caught my attention.
I didn't know his name. A guy with dimples, the kind of guy who probably thought he could charm his way through anything. He was standing just a little too close to Billie, his eyes locked on her with that unmistakable look. The kind of look that said he had some sort of claim, or at least thought he did. It was that familiar, possessive look and the same one I'd seen in too many locker rooms and too many clubs before. The look that said I've got my eye on you.
And Billie? She didn't even seem to notice it.
She was laughing with her friends, her voice carrying over the noise of the room like it was nothing. Carefree, unbothered. The kind of confidence that made my chest tighten. I couldn't figure it out. How did she seem so... comfortable?
I watched her, trying to steady my anger, trying not to care that his hand was hovering just a little too close to her waist. It wasn't enough to make her uncomfortable, or so it seemed, but it set something off inside me.
Maybe it was just the fact that I was feeling something for her, something I couldn't understand. The possessiveness that came with wanting someone who didn't belong to you.
I wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that she was out here having a good time with someone else, or the way I was feeling about it. Either way, the knot in my stomach wasn't going anywhere.
"What's the matter with you? I felt your mood shift from Mars" Evan asked me.
I couldn't muster up or even begin to put into words what my deal was.
I clenched my jaw, feeling a surge of frustration build in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me?
Here I was feeling this... possessiveness creeping up on me like a damn shadow. I didn't get attached. I didn't want to get attached. This wasn't me, not the guy who had his life figured out, who kept his emotions locked away, out of reach. But with Billie? Everything felt different. The way she moved, the way she laughed, the way she was completely unbothered by that creep and his damn look.
I wasn't some fool to get tangled up in this. I'd had enough of that crap in my life. I didn't need her; I didn't need any of this. So why was I standing here, watching her, like a damn idiot?
I could feel my hands tighten around my drink, the glass cold against my palms, but it didn't calm me down. Nothing was calming me down. The anger swirling inside me, mostly at myself, and less at the situation was only growing stronger.
She didn't owe me anything.
But no matter how many times I tried to reason with myself, my eyes kept drifting back to her. Back to the way she smiled and laughed, carefree and completely unaware of what was stirring inside me.
I needed to stop thinking about her. But every time I told myself that, the ache in my chest only deepened.
Something had to change. And it had to change tonight.