Semua Bab Across The Ice: Falling for my ex’s biggest rival: Bab 21 - Bab 28

Six in the morning should be illegal. The sky hadn’t even committed to being morning yet, stuck in that gray in-between like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be, and I stood outside Easton’s training facility with a cup of hot chocolate warming my hands, trying to convince myself this was a reasonable life choice. It wasn’t coffee, I’d tried that once and immediately regretted every decision that led me there, but hot chocolate had never betrayed me, and at this hour, loyalty mattered. My phone read 5:57 a.m. Three minutes left. I shifted my weight, watching my breath fog in the cold, already certain that Dean Mercer would be here before the clock hit six. He had that kind of presence, disciplined, precise, the sort of person who arrived early to make sure he could be early. I muttered something about never agreeing to another six a.m. assignment again, mostly to the cup in my hands, when a voice cut in from behind me. “You didn’t have much of a choice.” I turned too quickly

“Yeah.” It came out too fast. I heard it as soon as I said it and almost wanted to grab it back, like I’d answered a question I hadn’t fully understood yet. Dean paused just long enough to check if I meant it. “I mean…” I lifted my notebook, half laughing at myself. “The interview’s technically done. I’ve got enough for the feature.” He gave a small nod. “Good.” The hallway settled into a quiet that wasn’t awkward so much as aware, distant voices, the hum of overhead lights, the weight of my notebook still in my hands like it mattered more than it did. Dean checked his watch, then looked back at me. “Have you eaten?” I blinked. “What?” “Breakfast.” He adjusted the strap of his bag, already moving forward in his own logic. “There’s a diner a few minutes from campus. Good food. It’s quiet.” He didn’t ask me to come. He didn’t need to. The invitation was already there, steady and unforced, like he’d simply made room for me in whatever came next. “I’d like that,” I said, surprisin

Two hot chocolates. The phrase lodged itself in my head with absurd persistence, as if my brain had decided this was the detail worth circling back to while everything else moved on. Ryan had already forgotten it, Dean hadn’t reacted at all, and yet it lingered, quietly rearranging something I hadn’t realized was unsettled. When I looked at Dean, he met my gaze with the same steady calm he always had, like nothing had shifted, like nothing had been revealed, and that somehow made it worse. “Can we talk?” I asked, my voice coming out drier than I intended. “Sure.” No hesitation, no edge, no sign that I’d inconvenienced him. Just an agreement, simple and immediate, like it cost him nothing. It should have eased the knot in my chest. It didn’t. “I just need to finish editing a few things first,” I added, gesturing vaguely toward the media room as if that explained anything. He nodded once. “I’ll wait.” “You don’t have to.” “I know.” A faint pause, then, “I’ll wait.” There wasn

I had three pages of notes and 37 photos, and none of it translated into anything useful when I opened a blank document. The cursor blinked like it was waiting for me to admit I didn’t know what I was doing. I flipped between my notebook and the screen, hoping something would click into place if I stared long enough. “This is your thinking face.” Melissa leaned against the doorway with a coffee, watching me like she’d walked in on a rerun she’d seen before. “I thought my thinking face looked smarter.” “It does,” she said, dragging a chair over and sitting across from me. “That’s the problem.” I slid the notebook toward her. She flipped through it slowly, humming under her breath as she skimmed, pausing here and there like she was testing the weight of something. When she closed it, she didn’t rush to fill the silence, which made me sit up straighter. “Interesting.” “That’s all?” I asked. She tapped the cover. “You’ve barely written anything.” “I know.” “No tragic backstory