Jax’s POVThe rink lights buzzed overhead like they always did before a home game, casting that sharp white glow across the ice. I laced my skates tighter than usual, the familiar pull of the laces grounding me even as my mind refused to settle. Warm-ups had gone smooth — shots crisp, passes connecting, the team feeding off the crowd energy already building in the stands. But every time I glanced toward the front row, my focus fractured.Lila sat there exactly where I’d told her to. Coat buttoned high, scarf loose around her neck, glasses reflecting the lights. She looked small against the sea of jerseys and screaming fans, but she was there. Visible. Mine — at least for show.My stick tapped the ice once, twice, as I pushed off for another lap. The cold air burned my lungs in the best way, sharpening everything except the knot in my chest.She kissed me back.Not just endured it. Not pulled away like I half-expected. Her hand had fisted my hoodie, tentative but there, and for those
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