Breaking the Ice

Chapter Thirty-Two: Playing for Keeps

Marcus's POV

The air inside the rink carried that familiar bite—cold enough to nip at exposed skin but laced with the earthy smell of worked-in gear, shaved ice, and that peculiar chemical tang the Zamboni always left behind. It was the kind of atmosphere that seeped under my skin, grown up in, lived in, breathed in. But today it pressed on me heavier than usual, thick with the ache of a week spent in nonstop drills and conditioning circuits.

Coach Halden wasn’t subtle. He didn’t need to be. My father had always had a way of getting what he wanted, especially when it came to me and my brothers. Coach wasn’t exactly known for resisting pressure from influential donors. So, when dad had demanded a tougher week—to teach his son some discipline—Coach delivered.

I dug my edges into the ice and pushed off again, carving a tight pivot as Coach barked for one more lap. I didn’t have to look at my teammates to feel the shared groan ripple through the group. We’d been at this for two hours already, and it was only Saturday morning. When Coach finally blew the whistle, the sharp trill echoing through the rink like a promise of salvation, I coasted to a stop, chest heaving. I bent, resting my gloved hands on my knees while sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

“Jesus, Mase,” someone gasped behind me, “Your old man trying to kill us or what?”

I lifted my head just in time to see Dylan skating past, exaggeratedly clutching his chest.

“Yeah, dude,” Tyler added, gliding into view, “If I knew dating Anna meant extra suicide laps for the rest of us, I’d have stopped you months ago.”

The laughter that followed echoed against the bare concrete walls. I rolled my eyes and pushed off toward the bench. “I told you, it’s not my fault.”

“Not your fault?” Dylan followed me, eyebrows raised so high they practically met his helmet. “Bro—your girlfriend roasted your dad. Your dad. In front of like… half the town.”

“She didn’t roast him,” I said, though heat pricked my ears. There was no point pretending the scene hadn’t been a spectacle. “She just… called him out.”

Tyler snorted. “Dude, she practically shoved his own words down his throat before nearly kissing you dry right then and there!”

“She also said, ‘You don’t break the people you claim to love.’ I mean… iconic,” Peter chimed in as he skidded to a stop beside me.

A smile broke across my face as I recalled those words leaving Anna's lips before she winked at me and then walked off, leaving me and my brothers standing in the cafeteria with our fuming father.

“It wasn’t supposed to be iconic,” I muttered, unlatching my helmet. My hair was damp, messy, and stuck to my forehead. “It was supposed to be a private conversation.”

“Between her, you, and your father,” Tyler said. “Except your dad chose the café at Anna's school, where he thought he could make a point. Honestly, he set himself up.”

More laughter. More ribbing. I collapsed onto the bench beside Peter, who thumped me on the back.

“Face it,” Peter said. “Anna became a legend. Girls are still posting about it.”

“And we,” Tyler said, dropping beside us with a dramatic sigh, “are suffering the consequences.”

I huffed, part annoyance, part reluctant amusement. I knew they were teasing—not meanly, not maliciously. Hockey teams didn’t survive without a healthy dose of chirping. Still, the reminder of last week twisted something inside me. The situation had shifted fast, my father snapping about responsibility, Anna stepping in, and me caught between them.

Peter nudged me with an elbow. “You look miserable.”

“I’m tired,” I said automatically.

“Tired, sure.” Peter smirked. “Missing Anna, definitely.”

I didn’t answer, which only made the smirk widen.

The guys were stripping gear, chugging water, smacking each other with towels, the usual post-practice chaos. Coach Halden was barking at the Zamboni driver about resurfacing times. I tried to focus on unlacing my skates. But my mind kept replaying Anna’s face from a week ago—fire in her eyes, chin high, refusing to let his father walk all over me. It wasn’t just the words she’d said. It was the way she’d said them—fierce, protective, unflinching. She’d fought for me, even knowing the fallout.

Yeah. I missed her.

A lot.

Peter leaned back on the bench, arms draped behind me, that smug little-brother grin stretching across his face. “So,” he said casually, “When are you going to stop being a coward and call her?”

“I’m not a coward.”

“You’re a little coward.”

“Pete—”

He didn’t get to finish. Because the rink entrance door opened. Cold air rushed in, swirling across the rubber flooring. A few of the guys looked up. Then Tyler let out a low whistle.

“Well, well, well,” he said, smirking. “Speak of the hurricane herself.”

My head snapped up. Anna stood in the doorway, golden blonde hair spilling over a jacket, hands tucked into the pockets as though she were unsure whether she was interrupting. Beside her was Courtney, being perpetually amused by everything she witnessed.

Anna looked nervous—hopeful nervous. Her gaze scanned the rink, landing on me for a second too long. Then she glanced away, chewing lightly on the inside of her lip. Courtney, on the other hand, surveyed the room of sweaty hockey players like she was preparing opening lines for future teasing material.

I rose—slow, heart hammering in my throat. I felt the guys fall into a hush around me, like nosy vultures pretending not to stare.

Anna stepped further into the room. The overhead lights caught the gold flecks in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” I replied.

Peter cleared his throat loudly. “We’ll… just give you two some space.”

The team herded itself away with the subtlety of a stampede, some snickering, some nudging each other, some pretending to discuss slapshot technique while blatantly eavesdropping. Courtney wandered after them but shot Anna a supportive wink first.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Anna said. “But Courtney dragged me out for coffee, and then she said we were already halfway here, and then…” She exhaled. “I wanted to see you.”

My chest loosened in a way that made my knees feel unsteady. “I wanted to see you too.”

Anna took another small step closer. “I’m sorry I caused all this. I didn’t mean to start World War Three with your dad.”

“You didn’t start it,” I said immediately. “He did. And I'm proud to say my girl is the one to stand up to him for a change.”

She blinked at me, clearly surprised by the conviction in my voice.

“I just…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “I wish you hadn’t had to defend me. I should’ve stood up to him myself.”

Anna’s expression softened. Her posture relaxed. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Families are complicated.”

“That’s an understatement.”

She smiled—a quiet, beautiful smile that hit me in the chest. “Besides,” she said, voice dropping a little, “I wasn’t defending you because you needed it. I defended you because I care about you.”

My heartbeat stuttered.

“And,” she added, cheeks pinking, “because he was being an ass.”

A startled laugh escaped me. “Yeah. He was.”

Silence fell, not awkward, but heavy with things unsaid.

Behind us, the guys were pretending to stretch but were absolutely staring.

Anna noticed and rolled her eyes. “Your teammates are terrible spies.”

“They really are.”

She looked back at me. “Do you maybe… want to hang out after practice? Courtney’s going shopping after this, so I’m free. Unless the Plastics plan to appear out of nowhere and....”

A warmth spread through my chest. “Bella and her sisters are otherwise occupied today, thank God. So yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good,” she murmured.

I took a small step closer. “Anna?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you.”

Her breath hitched. “I missed you too.”

A chorus of awwwwws erupted from behind us.

Anna groaned, covering her face with her hands. I turned and glared at the team, who were now caught in various states of fake innocence.

Peter gave a double thumbs-up, while Damian, who suddenly appeared even though he said he had 'stuff' to do, was looking at Courtney who pretended to ignore him.

I shook my head and turned back to Anna, unable to hide my smile.

“Come on,” I said softly. “I’ll walk you to the stands while we finish cooldown. Ignore the idiots.”

Anna smiled back, the haggard feeling from this week finally melting into something warm, familiar, and right.

And as we walked together across the edge of the rink—Me still in half my gear, Anna stepping carefully on the rubber flooring—my teammates burst into applause behind us. Coach Halden looked at us all like he regretted every career decision he’d ever made.

But I didn’t care. And if my father tried to interfere?

Well, I would deal with him too. But for now, this moment with Anna will have to do.