steamy nights with the rival captain

~~KIRA~~ Jaxson pulls Chloe in for a kiss. He does it right there on live television, wrapping his arm around her waist and sliding his hand up her back. The crowd goes wild as the news ticker flashes at the bottom: VIPERS WIN PRE-SEASON OPENER 4-1. I sit on the sofa in our living room, holding back tears, staring at the screen. My heart tears apart. It hurts like it was only yesterday. A rough cough comes from Dad's bedroom. God, not again. I drop the remote and go straight to his room, pushing the door open. Dad is sitting up in bed, gasping for air as he coughs into his fist. "Dad, take a breath," I say. I hurry over and hold his shoulder to steady him. I grab the glass of water off the nightstand and hand it to him. How long can I manage all this? He takes a slow sip, waiting until the coughing stops. "I told you to rest today," I say, taking the glass back. "You shouldn't even be out of bed." "I'm fine, Kira," he wheezes, rubbing his eyes. "Just a dry throat, that's all. Stop worrying about me." "How can I not worry? You've been coughing like this all week." "I'm fine," he insists, shaking his head. "I just need a minute." The front door opens, and Ethan walks into the room wearing his dark blue mechanic jumpsuit. His hands are covered in black grease and his eyes look completely dead. I take one look at his face and sigh. "They didn't pay you, did they?" Ethan looks down, avoiding my eyes. "Owner said the shop is struggling. He handed me twenty bucks for an eight-hour shift and told me to take it or leave it." "Twenty dollars?" I ask, staring at him. "Ethan, you were there from eight in the morning until five in the evening!" "What do you want me to do, Kira?" Ethan snaps, pulling out the desk chair. He sits down, burying his face in his hands. "He knows nobody else will hire me. He knows I have a felony sports fraud charge on my record because of Mercer. So he treats me like garbage, and I have to take it." "It's not fair," I say. "You didn't even do what Mercer said you did." "It doesn't matter if I did it or not!" Ethan raises his voice, looking up at me. "The police record says I did! That's all any employer sees when they search my name!" "Ethan, lower your voice," Dad says quietly from the bed. "Your sister is just trying to help." Ethan rubs his forehead, leaving a smudge of grease across his skin. "Yeah, well, it gets worse." I freeze. "What do you mean it gets worse? How could it possibly get worse?" "Look for yourself." Ethan reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a crumpled white envelope. I snatch it from his fingers and pull out the paper inside. My eyes scan the bold black text at the top. God, it feels like I'm going to have a cardiac arrest. FINAL NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE. I read the numbers twice to make sure I'm not seeing things. "Victor Mercer bought our bank loan," I say, my voice dropping. "He's demanding the full payment. Five hundred thousand dollars. In six months." I rub my eyes, staring wider at the paper. "Five hundred thousand?!" I yell, turning to face Ethan and Dad. "How on earth are we supposed to come up with that amount of money in six months?!" "Kira, calm down," Dad says softly, reaching out his hand. "Calm down?!" Tears burn my eyes, but I force them back. "Dad, we don't even have five hundred dollars to pay for your prescription next week! How are we going to find half a million dollars before they tear down the rink?!" "We can't," Ethan says, staring at the wall. "We can't pay it, Kira. It's over." "It's not over!" I scream. "This is Mom's rink! Dad spent his whole life building this place!" "Look at us!" Ethan yells, standing up from the chair. "Look at this room! Dad is sick and Mercer owns the city! What do you want us to do, rob a bank?!" "We fought hard, Kira," Dad whispers. "We fought hard, but we lost." Hearing my father talk like that hurts worse than anything else. He looks so broken. I throw the letter to the floor and stomp out of his room, heading into mine. "Kira! Wait!" Ethan calls out. "Kira, sweetheart, please don't run off!" Dad shouts from his bed. I ignore them both, walk straight into my bedroom, and slam the door shut. Ethan arrives a second later, knocking on the door. "Kira! Open the door! Let's talk about this!" "Leave me alone, Ethan!" I shout back. "Kira, come on! We need to figure out a plan!" "I said leave me alone!" His footsteps fade back into the living room. I sink down to the floor, leaning my back against the door. Three years ago, my ex-fiancé, Jax, threw our engagement ring away and signed with Victor Mercer—the same monster who just bought the bank loan and is asking us to pay five hundred thousand dollars, the same monster who framed my brother for sports fraud. Jax moved on and became a star for his team, gallivanting around with Mercer's daughter the day after he called off our engagement. He gets to smile for the cameras while enjoying the fame he so desperately wanted. Everything is falling apart. My father can't afford medicine, and in six months, Mercer is going to take the only memory we have left of my mother: my dad's ice rink, our only studio, the same place me and Jax trained all our lives since childhood before he betrayed me. I sit there on the floor for a long time until evening comes and the room goes dark. When I finally stand up, the sadness is gone. Only anger is left. I walk over to the vanity mirror and turn on the small lamp. I look at my reflection. Soft face. Kira Cross. There is only one place where an athlete can earn half a million dollars in six months: The Professional Men's Hockey League. The signing bonus alone for top rookies is huge, with cash payouts for every win. I've been playing since I was born on Dad's ice. It's time to put those skills to use. They don't allow women. But looking at myself right now, I know I'm going to do it. It's the only way out. I open the drawer, pull out a pair of scissors, and cut my hair. Lock by lock, I trim it short until it sits rough around my ears. If they want a man, they're going to get one. Next, I take out the tight chest binder I ordered online last week. I take off my shirt, pull the binder over my ribs, and pull the straps tight. It squeezes my chest flat. It hurts to breathe, but my profile looks completely flat. I apply special glue to the back of the fake mustache and press it firmly against my upper lip. Just a few more touch-ups and I'll look like a man. Now, this is what I'm talking about. I pull a large grey hoodie over my head and look back into the mirror. I let out a dry chuckle, my eyes still teary. I actually look good. But Kira Cross isn't in that mirror anymore. "My name is Leo Sterling," I say to the room. "And I'm going into that men's hockey league, winning that cash and taking everything back."