The Captain’s Rule: She’s Off Limits

Chapter 2

I shouldn't care that he remembered my name, but somehow it's the only thing I've thought about all weekend.

Seriously, it’s pathetic. It was six words. When did you get here, Violet? That’s it. But my brain has replayed the low, gravelly sound of his voice about a million times while I unpack my dorm room.

"Earth to Vi," Mia says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. She’s sitting cross-legged on her unmade bed, surrounded by a mountain of throw pillows. "Are you going to hang up those fairy lights or just stare at the wall like a sim?"

"Hanging them now," I mutter, shaking myself out of the daze.

I stand on my tiptoes, pinning the string lights to the wall. The campus is buzzing today. It’s official move-in weekend at Maplewood University, and the energy outside our window is chaotic. Car trunks slamming, parents crying, and freshmen trying way too hard to look cool.

This is my fresh start. My chance to be someone completely new.

For years, I was just the quiet girl hiding in the background, nursing an impossible, exhausting fantasy about my brother's best friend. But standing here in my own dorm room, a sudden wave of determination hits my chest.

No more childhood crushes, I tell myself, pressing a thumb-tack firmly into the drywall. No more pining over Jace Donovan. It’s over.

"Hey," Mia says, checking her phone. "Liam texted. He said the team is having a small low-key thing at their off-campus house tonight. Just some pizza and drinks to celebrate the pre-season win. We should totally go."

My stomach does a nervous little flutter. "I don't know, Mia. It's a hockey party. I'll just end up sitting in a corner while Liam introduces me as his baby sister to fifty different giant athletes."

"First of all, giant athletes are exactly why we should go," Mia points out, eyebrows wagging. "Second of all, you're a freshman now. You're a college student. Put on that cute black top you bought last week and let’s go show everyone you're not a kid anymore."

I look at the black top hanging in my closet. It has thin straps and a square neckline—definitely more grown-up than my usual oversized hoodies.

"Fine," I give in, a small smile tugging at my lips. "But if Liam starts lecturing me about my curfew, you have to distract him."

"Deal."

The hockey house is a massive, slightly rundown off-campus place with a wrap-around porch and a lawn littered with empty red cups. Music is thumping through the closed front door, a heavy bass that vibrates right through the soles of my sneakers.

The moment we walk in, the atmosphere wraps around us. It smells like cheap beer, wood smoke, and college freedom.

"Vi! Over here!"

Liam spots us immediately from across the crowded living room. He navigates through the sea of people, a red cup in his hand, looking completely in his element. He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and a gray t-shirt that shows off his athletic build.

"You actually came," Liam says, pulling me into a quick one-armed hug. "Nice. Grab a soda from the kitchen. Most of the guys are out back by the fire pit."

"Hey, Reed," Mia greets him, already scanning the room. "Is that the backup goalie over by the fridge?"

"Yeah, that’s Miller. Go say hi, he’s harmless," Liam laughs.

Mia doesn't need to be told twice. She gives me a quick you-got-this look and disappears into the crowd toward the kitchen, leaving me standing next to my brother.

"You look nice, Vi," Liam says, blinking at my outfit. His protective older-brother radar instantly glares. "Is that shirt new? It’s a little... short, isn't it?"

"It’s a normal shirt, Liam," I say, rolling my eyes, though affection softens the edge. "Don't start."

"Alright, alright. Come on, let's get you a drink."

He leads me through the crowded house toward the back deck. The cool Vermont evening air hits my face, a welcome relief from the stuffy heat inside. A massive bonfire is roaring in the middle of the yard, surrounded by lawn chairs and hockey players.

And right there, sitting on the arm of a weathered sofa on the porch, is Jace.

My chest tightens instantly. The painful, familiar ache flares up before I can stop it. He’s wearing a dark flannel shirt over a white tee, his jaw sharp in the flickering light of the fire. He has a beer dangling from his fingers, but he isn't drinking. He’s listening intently to an older man in a MU athletic jacket.

"Hold on," Liam mutters, pausing near the edge of the deck. "That’s the scout from the Bruins. Let's see what they're saying."

We step closer, blending into the shadows of the porch. They don't see us.

"You've got the vision, Donovan," the scout is saying, tapping a finger against his clipboard. "The NHL scouts are looking at your discipline just as much as your stats. Keep your head down this season. Lead the team, avoid the typical college distractions, and you're a guaranteed early round draft pick next spring. Boston has their eye on you."

Jace nods, his expression completely serious, mature, and focused. "I know, sir. The team comes first. No distractions. I’m completely locked in."

"Good lad. The sky is the limit for you."

The scout claps Jace on the shoulder and walks away. Jace takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes staring out into the dark yard, looking entirely untouchable.

Standing a few feet away, a cold wave of reality washes over me.

Hearing those words hurts in a way I didn't expect. Jace’s life is moving forward at a thousand miles an hour. He’s talking to professional scouts. He’s looking at a future in the NHL. He’s a grown man with massive dreams and the discipline to achieve them.

And me?

I’m still just the silly, embarrassed girl stuck in a childhood crush, hyper-fixating on the fact that he said my name in a hallway two days ago. I feel so incredibly small. So stupid.

While he’s chasing a professional sports career, I’m chasing a ghost.

This is the year, I think, a sharp flare of stubborn pride hardening inside my heart. This is the exact moment I get over Jace Donovan. I’m done being invisible, and I’m done wanting someone who will never see me as an equal.

"Hey, Liam," I say, my voice sounding tight. "I'm actually feeling a little tired. I think I'm gonna head back to the dorms."

Liam frowns, looking down at me. "Already? You just got here, Vi. Do you want me to walk you?"

"No, stay. Celebrate. I know the way back, it's just a ten-minute walk," I say, forcing a bright, fake smile. "I'll text you when I'm back."

"Okay. Be safe. Text me the second you get through the door."

I nod and turn around, navigating through the crowded porch. I just need to get out of here. I need to breathe.

I head toward the side steps of the deck, where the lighting is dim and the grass meets the gravel path. I'm moving fast, my eyes slightly blurred with a mix of frustration and embarrassment, entirely focused on my own escape.

My foot catches on a loose, warped wooden step.

"Whoa—"

My balance completely vanishes. I gasp, my arms flailing slightly as gravity pulls me forward toward the hard gravel below.

Before I can hit the ground, a hand shoots out of the darkness.

Strong, calloused fingers wrap firmly around my wrist.

With a sudden, powerful jerk, I’m pulled backward. My sneakers hit the solid wood of the deck, and my front slams directly into a broad, solid chest. The scent of cedarwood, ice, and expensive cologne floods my senses instantly.

My heart leaps into my throat, hammering violently.

I look up, my breath hitching in my throat.

Jace is towering over me, his face inches from mine. His grip on my wrist is tight, his fingers warm against my bare skin. His dark eyes are wide, searching my face with a sudden, intense flash of panic that completely catches me off guard.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us lets go.

"You okay?" Jace asks, his voice dropping into a low, breathless register that sends a violent shiver straight down my spine.