Icing My Heart: A Fake Deal With My Ex

I can feel trouble before it even knocks and tonight is one of those nights. a tightness behind my ribs that has nothing to do with the cold cutting through my jacket, or the traffic that made me twenty minutes late, I tell myself it's nothing. By the time I reach the media entrance, my badge is already out, my knuckles pale around the strap of my bag. "You good?" one of the security guys asks, squinting at me like he already suspects the answer. I nod anyway, smile, keep moving, pretend the ground under me isn't as thin as it feels. The arena is always loud before a match even begins. It usually starts outside the rink with fans pressing against barriers, chanting team names, waving flags, and cameras flashing like it's all part of the show. I've learned how to move through it without feeling it. Press my badge. Keep my recorder ready. Do the same for my notes. That has always been the routine. "Rink-side coverage only," my editor reminds me through my earpiece, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "I'm already there," I say. Once I step onto the media walkway, I glance down at my notes. The game is going to be a season opener in front of a home crowd, and new line adjustments. None of these is unusual. But that is, until the announcements start. "Northbridge introducing a new signing tonight ..." The commentator's voice echoes through the arena speakers, and the crowd cheers on lightly, obviously curious about who the new player is going to be. I, on the other hand, don't look up. Because new signings aren't unusual either. Teams usually do that all the time. However, there's a way the commentator announced it that hints it might not just be a random player joining the team. So, who could it be? The sound of skates moving on ice and pucks hitting the boards as players warm-up, ready for the game is distant over the murmurs coming from the crowd, even as the commentator continues. "-returning to the league after several years abroad." I pause immediately and look up just as the noise from the crowd increases. The people lean forward in anticipation, their phones already set to record, but when I glance towards the tunnel, there's no one. Return? Who could - The thoughts have barely even formed in my mind when he suddenly steps out of the tunnel, and I freeze immediately, my heart dropping into my stomach. At first, I think I'm seeing things. But the sudden silence from the crowd says otherwise because they have to be as shocked as I am to go that quiet. Still, I blink, hoping it's a hallucination and that he disappears instantly. But to my utmost disappointment, he doesn't. "-hold on." The commentator's voice is louder and sharper now, like he also can't believe his eyes the more the player steps further into the arena. "That's Sterling." A beat passes before he continues. "That's Xavier Sterling on the ice for Northbridge!" That moment, the crowd finally reacts. An uproar comes from where they're now standing, screaming and trying to take pictures or videos of him. Some of them have looks of shock on their faces, some surprised, literally asking each other if this is real, and others even confused. "No way ..." someone comments from behind me, and that's when I snap myself back to reality, heart racing as I watch him settle in the rink with other players. Xavier Sterling. My first and only boyfriend who is technically now my ex. It can't be true. What is he doing here? And why is he back after all these years? How does he even have the guts to show his face here after what he did? Worse, I hadn't been told by anyone on the team that he'd be here. Just that there'd be a new player on the team, and now that I can see who it clearly is, how am I supposed to work with him? My chest tightens at the thought, tears stinging my eyes, but I blink them away immediately and straighten. I should concentrate on my job now. I can find a way to deal with this later. Just then, the puck drops on the ice, followed by the sound of a whistle blowing, and the game begins. The opposing team - Harbor City Titans - starts aggressively, moving the punk through a controlled passing game. And when Sterling plays back against it, I notice something right away. He's good. It's not just "still good" in the way I've always known him to be from the past. He's better now. His skating control has turned stronger, his turns faster. Even the way he handles the puck looks cleaner and more precise. He's the kind of player people notice without even trying to. It doesn't even take long when he shoots the puck, and I watch as it leaves the stick cleanly before driving straight into the net. The crowd roars in response, standing and waving flags. Every time he touches the puck since then, noise follows from the crowd. Everyone's attention is on him, like their breaths are held still in their throats until he scores another goal. It doesn't take long before the opposing team start targeting him. At first, it's normal defense against his shoots, a shoulder check there, and a blocked pass there. It should've ended there, but with time, it escalates till the extent that a hit at the boards sends him slightly off balance. The crowd lets out a sound of disapproval just as he recovers. At the same time, he sends the puck to a teammate in a quick pass only to get hit again, and from somewhere behind me, a fan groans in frustration. "What is going on?" She asks. The referee whistles ones in warning, and the game continues. I expect it to become normal again, but the moment our team win another goal, the members from Harbor City Titans intensify the level of their attacks. Everytime Sterling gets the puck, there's always this particular player cutting space and forcing contact. It doesn't even take long before it crosses the line. A hit after the puck is gone. Another one seconds later. Sterling lets it go at first, but not completely. I see it in the way he slows just slightly after the another contact. He glances briefly at the player, and the referee says something as they pass, trying to keep control, but the game keeps moving. Next play. Sterling takes the puck along the boards, pushing forward, and that same player - Dominic; number 24 - comes at him again. Even harder this time. The impact of the hit knocks Sterling off balance, almost sending him to the ground, and the crowd roars, but he's quick to recover again. I'm certain now that only I feel it, but even the crowd does too. Something is off. The sound of the whistle blown by the referee has barely even died out before Dominic leans in and whispers something under his breath. Sterling hears it. You can tell from the way he stiffens instantly, his grip on his stick tightening. The next thing I know, he turns and shoves Dominic back. Hard. Gasps come from the crowd, some people standing, as Dominic goes down onto the ice, but his shoulders shake as if he's laughing. Then, he jerks off his helmet. His face comes into view clearly for the first time, looking smug and completely unbothered despite the officials already skating toward them. His gaze lifts past Sterling - straight toward me - and my heart drops into my stomach. Almost immediately, he looks back at Sterling and says something again, while beginning to stand up, his voice low enough that only Sterling can hear it. Sterling stiffens even further, his stick already raising in the air before he surges towards Dominic again. But before it escalates, the referee is already there, grabbing him and forcing him back as the officials step in fully to separate them. Sterling and Dominic are then pulled back toward the bench, none of them exchanging look. I watch as Sterling pulls off his own helmet, his jaw clenched tightly as he breathes harder, like he's trying to contain himself. Penalties are called for the both of them, and after a brief reset, the play continues. But the energy from earlier doesn't return. It's clear in the way everyone is throughout the rest of the game, and before I even know it, the final whistle comes, signaling the end. Northbridge wins. However, the uproar that comes from the crowd and teammates sound distant to me. Because my attention is no longer here. It's on Xavier Sterling, who is also not celebrating with the rest. He's glaring towards Dominic, who is focused on discussing something with his teammates, like he's going to send holes through the back of his skull. I can only wonder what Dominic must've said to irritate him that much. And if it's related to me in any way, given how he looked at me earlier while on the ground. "Cross." I'm brought back to reality almost immediately, and I blink just as the media coordinator stops before me. She doesn't wait for me to give her an answer. She just drops the bomb. "You're assigned to interview Sterling." I freeze, my eyes widening. "What?" "Post-match," she repeats. "Coach requested you specifically." "B-but-" "No excuses, Cross." Her voice is stern now. Firm, too. "You have to do it."