The Hockey Captain's Secret Girl

10. The Language Of The Ice

“Meet me at the rink tonight. We need to talk about your ice, Hailey.”

Brandon’s whisper had been on a loop in my head all day, making every second feel like pure torture. Tonight, a miserable drizzle was falling over Toronto again, wrapping The Arc in a heavy silence as I slipped inside. Just like before, the emergency door had been left cracked open for me.

I moved quietly through the dark stands. But unlike previous nights, when the arena welcomed me with the violent, echoey thuds of hockey pucks, tonight the place was deathly still.

The only sound was the soft, rhythmic scrape of skate blades cutting through the ice with a precision that was intimately, painfully familiar to my ears.

I froze at the edge of the boards, holding my breath. Under a single spotlight illuminating the center ice, Brandon was gliding. He wasn’t in his bulky, terrifying hockey gear. He was just wearing black sweatpants and a matching, tight long-sleeved tee that put the powerful lines of his back on full display.

There was no stick, no raw violence. His movements tonight were graceful, fluid, yet thick with pent-up emotion. He was free skating, speaking a secret language understood only by those who had dedicated their entire lives to the ice.

Watching him track across the ice reminded me so brutally of who I used to be. Back when I used to dance for a crowd, pouring every raw emotion into my routines. I’d been so happy then. But it all vanished during that one final competition.

Screeech.

Brandon dug his edges into the ice, sending a spray of frozen shards flying as he pulled to a hard stop right in front of me. He tossed his small towel onto the bench and looked up at me with dark eyes that held no anger tonight—only a profound, consuming intensity.

“You came,” his low voice broke the quiet, leaving a thin trail of vapor in the crisp air.

“You know I’ll always show up if you ask,” I murmured, clutching the hem of my gray hoodie. I’d kept my hood up on purpose tonight. My face felt completely exposed under the harsh spotlight, mirroring how my deepest secret had been laid bare for the entire campus to see.

Brandon easily vaulted over the boards, landing right in front of me. The heat radiating off his body from the workout instantly chased away the freezing air between us. He just stared at me for a long time, tracing every line of my face as if searching for any scars left by the morning's chaos in the hallway.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Brandon’s voice softened, though a faint undertone of disappointment lingered. "That you're Hailey Cartenz. Vancouver's Ice Princess."

I let out a bitter laugh, dropping my gaze to the tips of my sneakers. “That title is dead, Brandon. Just like the ligament in my left knee that snapped a year ago.”

A large, warm hand suddenly cupped my chin, tilting my head up. His touch was incredibly gentle, a complete contrast to his usual dominant, rough-around-the-edges demeanor.

“Your past isn’t dead, Hailey. I watched your old competition tapes this afternoon. Out there on the ice… you weren’t just skating. You were alive,” Brandon whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine, refusing to let me look away. “And now I know why I haven’t been able to look away from you since the first night we met. We’re cut from the same cloth. We breathe the same air out there.”

The tears I’d been fighting since this morning threatened to spill over at his words. On campus, people saw me as a cheap piece of gossip. Jessica saw me as a target to be crushed. But this man standing in front of me… he saw me as an athlete who’d lost her wings.

“I’m terrified, Brandon,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I booked a one-way ticket to Toronto because I couldn't handle the pitying looks back home when I couldn't land my jumps anymore. And now, Jessica is forcing everyone to look at me like that all over again.”

Brandon’s jaw clenched hard at that, but the look in his eyes remained fiercely protective. Without a word, he yanked me into his arms.

His powerful arms wrapped tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly until I was flushed completely against his broad chest. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling the scent of my hair, while his massive hand stroked my back in a soothing, deeply possessive rhythm.

“Let them stare, Hailey,” Brandon murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my skin, sending a warm wave of comfort straight to my core. “If any of them dare to look down on you or make you cry again, I swear to God I’ll hunt down whoever runs that anonymous account and destroy them—to hell with my NHL draft.”

“Brandon, don’t be reckless…”

“I’m already reckless when it comes to you,” he cut me off, tightening his grip as if he couldn’t risk a single millimeter of danger touching me. “Our deal stands, we keep up appearances in public to keep the vultures away. But in here? You don’t have to hide behind baggy hoodies anymore. I’ll be your goddamn wall.”

I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around him just as tightly, burying my face into the Ice King’s solid chest. In his arms, in the dead silence of the arena, a realization washed over me.

Jessica thought she was ruining my life by exposing me to the campus. She had no idea her little stunt had only anchored Brandon Walker deeper to my side. And this time, the hockey captain had zero intention of losing the game.

“Hailey, if it were up to me, I’d show you off to the entire world without a second thought. Right now, I’m holding back for your sake, but what happened this afternoon? I’m not letting it slide.”

I stepped back slightly, tilting my head up to look at him. “Jessica will go completely psycho if you protect me.”

“She crossed the line. She deserves a proper reality check.”

I shook my head frantically. “No, no, no. She’ll trace it back to you, and she’ll still find a way to ruin me.”

Brandon’s lips curved into a faint, wicked smirk—a side of him he’d never shown me before. “Let her try. We’ll see if she learns her lesson or digs her own grave. She's played around with my Ice Princess for way too f*****g long.”

Brandon finally let go of me, then reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of white figure skates, setting them down in front of me.

“Want to skate with me tonight? You can glide as much as you want—I’ve got your back. No one’s judging you in here.”