Reese’s POV
I walk off before he can say more.
Right now my palms are slick with sweat. My head spins from everything — the rink lights, the cameras, Jade’s smirk. The air feels colder now that I’m away from the noise. My steps echo against the corridor floor, quick and uneven, like I’m trying to escape my own heartbeat.
“Reese.”
I freeze. The voice is quiet but firm, low enough to make me turn fast.
It’s Knox.
He’s leaning against the wall a few feet behind me, one hand in his jacket pocket, hair slightly damp from the ice. His voice still carries that calm, almost measured tone that somehow always feels like control.
“You did good out there today,” he says simply.
I blink, unsure what to say. Knox rarely talks unless necessary. He’s the type that watches everything but says nothi
