All Chapters of Owned on the Ice M/M Romance: Chapter 351 - Chapter 360

By the time Leo and Zach's interview wrapped, Ryder was vibrating with the need to get out of the building.“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands once as the guys regrouped near the lockers. “We’re free. We’re leaving. Now.”Drew snorted. “You sound stressed.”“I'm motivated,” Ryder shot back.They herded toward the exit in a loose pack, bags slung over shoulders, sneakers squeaking. Leo hovered at the edge of it, rethinking, adjusting the strap of his bag like he might bail at any second.“Hey,” Ryder said, falling into step beside him. “You coming?”Leo blinked. “Uh. I might turn in, I—”“You’re coming,” Drew said cheerfully from the other side. “First round’s on Reynolds.”Connor groaned. “I did not agree to that.”Leo hesitated, glancing back toward the rink like he expected to get called out.“Don’t worry,” Ryder said. “We won’t corrupt you. Much.”Before Leo could answer, Beck’s voice cut through the hallway.“Hayes,” he barked. “I already warned you once about the underclassmen.

The guys filled the space with noise and laughter.“Football thinks they own the place,” Drew said, tearing into another wing. “Imagine subbing out every thirty seconds and still flexing about it.”Connor snorted. “They think conditioning is walking from the bus to the field.”Zach leaned back, draping an arm along the top of the booth. “I heard their playbooks are written in crayon.”Leo laughed under his breath, shoulders loosening as the chirping rolled on.Across the bar, Assball slid into a chair with his girl tucked in close beside him. He draped an arm over the back of her seat like it was a claim, not a gesture. She angled herself away just enough to make it noticeable if you were paying attention.Ryder tried not to.Jax didn’t stare. He barely moved at all, just a quiet shift of focus, eyes tracking without effort. If Ryder hadn’t been watching him already, he might’ve missed it.Assball scrolled through his phone and laughed too loud. The girl beside him said something Ryde

The training room smelled like disinfectant and sweat.Stations were set up in a loose circuit. Balance boards, flexibility mats, heart-rate monitors. Guys rotated through in half-dressed clusters, joking too loudly.Pre-season checks. Routine. Boring.Ryder leaned against the wall near the doorway, tugging at the hem of his compression shorts while he waited for his turn. The clipboard in the trainer’s hands barely moved. Everything ran on muscle memory this time of year.Jax stood a few feet away.Too close not to notice.He had his hands braced on his hips, his head tipped back as he rolled his neck slowly from side to side—throat exposed, jaw tight, the line of muscle pulling clean beneath his skin.Something tightened in Ryder’s gut, a flicker of heat he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. He stamped it down just as quickly.“Jesus... His stats are impressive,” one of the assistant trainers muttered nearby. “Guy doesn’t know when to quit.”Ryder didn’t look over, but his attention

The bastard didn’t stop.He straightened over Jax like he was lining up a shot, boot drawing back, eyes hard and mean. No hesitation. No second thought. Just the intent to do damage.Something in Ryder went white-hot.He didn’t slow. Didn’t shout. He launched himself forward, shoulder-first, slamming into the guy’s side and knocking him clean off balance before the kick could land.Ryder’s voice tore out of him, rough and feral. “Get the fuck away from him.”The football player staggered, caught himself, then turned with a snarl. “Who the hell—”Ryder didn’t hesitate. He threw a punch, hard and clean, straight into the guy’s jaw.He’d been playing hockey since he was six years old. Been chirping since day one. He knew how to throw his weight, how to keep his feet, how to use momentum instead of brute force. This wasn’t a blind swing—it was clean, controlled, exactly where it needed to land.The guy reeled back, shock flashing across his face as Ryder crowded his space, hands already f

“How the hell do you expect to drink this,” Ryder said, holding up the glass, “lying flat on your back?”Jax opened his eyes. “I’ll sit up.”He tried.The effort showed immediately. Jaw tight, shoulders tensing, breath hissing as he pushed an elbow into the mattress.Ryder was there instantly.“Hey—Fuck.” He set the glass aside and caught Jax under the shoulder, steadying him before he could fall back. Their bodies ended up too close, Ryder braced on the edge of the bed, Jax half-upright, their chests pressed together.For a second, neither of them moved.Something charged flickered between them, heat and awareness snapping tight as a wire.Ryder swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. He picked up the glass again and brought the pills closer. “Just—take these,” he muttered.Jax took them, dry humor flickering in his eyes even as his fingers brushed Ryder’s. He tipped the glass back, throat working as he swallowed, gaze never leaving Ryder’s face.Ryder watched it happen, pulse jump