Melting the Ice Captain

Chapter 3: A Dangerous Counterattack

Skye's POV

I stepped onto the ice and the cold hit me like a slap. My legs still felt heavy from the tryout, but I pushed forward anyway. The guys were lacing up and muttering, shooting me sideways looks, then Coach Harlan blew his whistle sharply.

“Alright, listen up! Scrimmage time. We’re running full lines. Mercer, you’re centering. Skye Brooks is your right-winger for this one. Let’s see some chemistry.”

Mercer didn’t even look at me, he just skated into the center circle like I was a bad smell he had to deal with. Paired with the guy who already wants me dead. Perfect.

Coach kept going. “Left wing, Jake. Defense pair, Marcus on the left and Tyler on the right. Goalie, Banks in net. Other guys rotate in. Work it!”

Jake, the left-winger, gave me a quick nod. He was tall and lean with messy light brown hair and an easy smile that made him look more friendly than the rest. He seemed like the kind of guy who actually enjoyed playing.

Marcus, the left defenseman, was a big brute of a guy. He had a shaved head, thick neck and shoulders like a truck. He looked like he lived to throw bone-crushing hits. Tyler, on right defense, was shorter but stocky and quick with a scar above his eyebrow and a permanent scowl.

Banks in net was a giant, easily 6’5”, with long arms and a calm presence that made the goal look small behind him. They were all fast, really fast, but as soon as the puck dropped, it was obvious who ran everything.

Mercer won the faceoff clean and exploded up the ice. I pushed hard to keep up on the right wing, but my legs just couldn’t match their raw speed. I was always a half-step behind. Jake tried to keep pace on the left, but Mercer was already threading a perfect pass that Jake buried on the top shelf. The guys cheered, but Mercer circled back like it was nothing.

They were all talented. Jake had quick hands. Marcus and Tyler threw big hits and moved the puck smart, but next to Mercer? They looked a half-step slow. He made the game look easy.

But it still wasn't up to 'the boys' level. I doubt anyone in the world could play hockey as well as them.

I shook off the old thoughts about the boys and skated hard, staying in position and calling for the puck, but nothing came. The guys looked right through me.

Awesome. I’m a ghost out here.

I chased every loose puck, but my lack of speed showed. I had to work twice as hard just to stay in the game.

Same old story. Not fast enough. Never fast enough.

We ran drill after drill. I battled along the boards, got knocked around, but the puck never came my way. Marcus barreled past me once and nearly knocked me flying and Tyler screened me completely.

My legs burned worse than usual as bitterness rose in my throat. Prove yourself, Skye. Then prove it again.

Mercer dominated as he powered through checks, deked around guys, and set up play after play with no-look passes. He was truly talented.

Late in the scrimmage and deep in the offensive zone, Mercer had the puck again. He faked left, drew the defense, then spun right. I was wide open on the right wing, with my stick out, yelling for it.

He didn’t pass.

One of the opposing defensemen cleared it wobbling toward the corner. Mercer went after it fast. I wasn’t quick enough to beat him there with pure speed, but I saw it coming and then, everything slowed down.

The noise disappeared, and I saw every gap, every blind spot, the tiny openings between skates and sticks. My vision gave me the edge my legs never could. I anticipated the exact path, cut at a sharp angle and poked the puck off Ryder’s blade a split second before he reached it.

Then I took off.

He recovered instantly and fled after me as Jake cut across from me, Marcus tried to pin me and Tyler closed from the point, but I saw every move before it happened.

I pulled the puck between my skates, used a sharp 90-degree cut to slip past Jake and ripped a quick wrist shot high on the glove side.

The puck slammed into the back of the net and then there was silence.

I glided to a stop near the boards, chest heaving, legs shaking. The guys stood frozen. Jake muttered, “What the f**k was that?” Marcus and Tyler stared as Banks shook his head.

Mercer stopped hard right in front of me and those sharp emerald eyes burned with shock and pure rage. He was breathing heavy, dark hair messy with sweat, towering over me.

“What the hell was that?” he growled, low enough for only me to hear.

I lifted my chin, heart pounding. “That was me playing hockey. You said, Get on the ice, right?"

He stepped closer with his stick planted and his green eyes drilling into mine. “You stole that from me.”

“No,” I shot back, “I took what you wouldn’t give. Big difference, Captain.”

His jaw flexed and for a second I thought he might shove me while the team watched us like they were waiting for a fight.

Coach blew the whistle long and loud. “That’s it for today! Good hustle. Hit the showers.”

Mercer didn’t move right away. He kept staring at me, something dark and unreadable in his eyes, then he leaned just a fraction closer with his voice low and dangerous. “You got lucky once, Brooks. Don’t think this changes s**t. You’re still gonna get crushed out here.”

I smirked even though my knees felt weak. “We’ll see about that.”

He skated off without another word with his shoulders tight. The guys followed, still whispering, but I stayed on the ice a few extra seconds, catching my breath.

My vision had saved me again, but I knew the truth, because without it, I’d never keep up with their speed.

As I finally headed to the bench, Coach waved me over.

“Brooks, strong finish. Mercer, show her where she can change. There’s a separate stall she can make use of and, after that, take her to the athletic director’s office.”

Mercer's jaw muscle jumped hard as he glared at me, pure frustration rolling off him. He probably realized I'm really on the team.

“Yes Coach,” he said through clenched teeth, those cold emerald eyes never leaving mine.

And I could just tell that this wasn’t over, not even close.