Silent Flames

Episode4

s POV

I tugged the collar of my dress shirt, staring at the mirror like it had personally offended me. The fabric was stiff, crisp, and way too formal for my taste. I wasn’t built for this wholesome act. On the ice, I knew who I was. Fast, ruthless, the guy who doesn't care about any s**t. Out here? In button-ups and fake smiles? I felt like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

Still, this was what management wanted, and if I wanted to keep playing, I had to play along. I grabbed my blazer from the chair, slinging it over my shoulder. Just as I slipped one arm through the sleeve, I heard the heavy footsteps outside my bedroom door. The door creaked open, and my father leaned in, his eyes immediately narrowing on me.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” He asked curiously.

“Team event,” I replied, buttoning the last button of my shirt. “Charity thing. You know how it is.”

“A charity thing,” he repeated, like I’d just told him I was heading out to rob a bank. “On a Friday night?”

“Yeah.” I adjusted my cufflinks, not meeting his gaze. “PR schedules it, not me. You want me to tell them to cancel?”

For a long moment, he just studied me. He knew me too well. Knew when I was spinning him a story. His hand gripped the edge of the doorframe, the same way he used to when I’d come home late as a teenager. His silence was worse than yelling. It made me feel twelve years old again, standing in front of him with mud on my skates and a detention slip in my hand.

But to his credit, or maybe just his disinterest, he didn’t push it. Instead, he sighed and muttered. “Your grandmother’s coming into town Sunday. Don’t be late. You’ve missed enough dinners already.”

I nodded my head and forced a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He stepped back from the door, giving me one last hard look before walking away. Only then did I let out a slow exhale. "Family, family, family," I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes so hard it almost hurt.

It's like I needed another lecture about family dinners. Like I didn’t already carry enough on my shoulders.

I grabbed my keys from the dresser, shrugging into the blazer properly this time. One last glance at the mirror told me I looked exactly like what management wanted, a reformed bad boy. Because that was all this night was about, image.

Without wasting much time, I stepped out of the house, entered my car and headed to the event ground. The drive to the place was a silent one, except for the sound of the engine, and horns of cars passing by.

After a few minutes, I finally got to the place. I pulled into the arena parking lot, clenching my jaw and putting on my game face. The place was buzzing already. Cameras, reporters, fans pressing against the barricades. But first, I had to face the locker room. With security behind me, I made my way there.

The guys were scattered inside, some lacing shoes, others checking their phones. The second I walked in, all eyes turned in my direction. It wasn't unusual, but tonight it's a bit different.

“Pretty boy finally cleaned up,” one of the rookies muttered, smirking.

“Don’t get used to it,” I shot back, dropping my bag onto the bench. “I’m still prettier than you even when I roll out of bed.”

Everyone bursted out in laughter, the atmosphere changing for a moment. But it didn't last. Cole, our captain, leaned his back against his locker and crossed his arms. With a hardened face, he muttered.

“You know what tonight is, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, unbuttoning my blazer just to annoy him. “Smile for the cameras, shake a few hands, pretend to be a saint. I’ve got it.”

Cole scoffed and shook his head. He didn’t even blink. “It’s more than that. You’re walking in there with her. And that means...”

“Don’t touch her,” another teammate, Max, cut in, his grin lopsided but his eyes serious. “Hell, don’t even look at her like you want to touch her. Her dad would end your career faster than you can say penalty box.”

Everyone began to murmur. One guy said something about career suicide. Another shook his head like I was already a lost cause. There's silence in the room again, everyone waiting for my reaction. I smirked and leaned my back on the bench, then said with a slight smile. “Relax. You think I’m stupid enough to cross Coach’s daughter?”

“Yeah,” three of them said at once.

I laughed, even though part of me bristled. “Appreciate the faith, boys.”

Cole moved away from the locker, and began to step closer to me. “We mean it, Liam. He hates you already. If he even thinks you’re sniffing around his kid, you’re done. So I'll advise you to be careful.''

My smirk faltered, just for a second. Images of her flashed in my head. Her blazing eyes, her quick tongue, the way she called me overrated like it was a fact of life. And the way, against all reason, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

I forced a smile and shrugged. “Message received. Hands off. Got it.”

But as the guys went back to their routines, I kept my head down, tying the laces of my shoes tighter than necessary. I couldn't take the thought off my mind. The thing is, I could lie to my father, I could lie to my teammates, hell, I could lie to the cameras. But the one person I couldn’t lie to was myself.

And the truth was, the idea of keeping my hands off her? It felt a lot like asking me not to breathe. I made a vow, and that vow must be kept no matter the consequences. Scarlett Merrick, will regret ever messing with me.