Chapter 60: Empty Ice

NORA’S POV

The silence in the Briar Ice Arena felt even heavier than the crowd that had been screaming just an hour ago.

I stood near the concrete alcove outside the player exit corridor, watching the last of the student spectators stream out into the freezing night air.

"Nora, come on," Priya urged softly, pulling her scarf tight around her neck. "The team bus is heading back to the SinBin. Nobody is staying here tonight."

"Go ahead, Priya," I said quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the double doors leading to the player locker rooms. "I’ll take the late campus shuttle if need be."

Priya hesitated, glancing between me and the quiet tunnel, before nodding gently and walking out into the plaza.

I stayed.

Minutes later, the double doors clattered open.

Knox stepped out into the dim hallway. He was dressed in a track jacket and gray workout pants; his curls were still damp from the shower. His knuckles were raw and red, his jaw clamped so tight I could see the sharp muscle ticking beneath his skin.

Before I could step forward, a tall figure in a tailored charcoal suit stepped into the hallway from the booster suite entrance.

Garrison Sheridan.

Knox stopped dead in his tracks.

The air in the concrete corridor turned instantly arctic. Neither of them spoke for three seconds. Garrison didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t shout or slam his fist against the wall.

He just looked at his son with a cold, sharp disappointment that hurt more than any blade.

"You disgraced this program on regional television tonight, Knox," Garrison said in a flat, emotionless tone. "You let personal distractions destroy your focus, and you handed State a victory on home ice."

Knox didn’t say a word. He just stood there, absorbing his father’s words without flinching.

"Consider my corporate endorsement with the NHL draft committee revoked," Garrison added coldly, adjusting his cuffs. "Enjoy your final season at Briar."

Garrison turned on his heel, walking down the long corridor toward the executive parking exit without looking back once.

Knox remained standing in the middle of the empty hallway, staring at the scuffed concrete floor.

Slowly, Knox turned and pushed open the metal fire door leading back onto the main rink.

—

The main stadium lights were completely off.

Only the amber emergency lights mounted high along the upper rafters cast long, faint shadows across the empty ice below.

I opened the fire door quietly and stepped onto the rubber mats, my boots clicking as I walked toward the home bench.

Knox was sitting alone on the wooden bench in the dark, resting his elbows on his knees, his equipment bag resting beside his feet.

He didn’t look up as I approached, but his shoulders shifted slightly in the dim light.

"Arena is closed, Bennett," Knox said in a low, raspy rumble that echoed off the empty bleachers. "You should be back at your dorm."

"I’m not going back yet," I said softly, stopping near the edge of the bench.

Knox reached into his gym bag, pulling out a pair of women’s hockey skates. He set them on the wooden bench beside him, a faint, humorless scoff escaping his lips.

"You don’t have to be here, Bennett," Knox murmured, looking down at his taped hands. "I lost the bet."

I looked at the silver number nineteen stitched across the front of the sweater I was wearing, then met his eyes through the dim amber light.

"I’m not here because of a bet, Sheridan," I said calmly as I stepped forward and sat down on the wooden bench beside him.

Knox froze.

He stared into my eyes for five long seconds. His usual arrogant posture he carried everywhere on campus crumbled just a fraction, revealing a quiet vulnerability he had always kept hidden.

Without saying a word, Knox crouched down in front of me. He reached out, unlacing my winter boots and sliding them off before slipping the dark leather skates onto my feet. His calloused fingers were warm as he pulled the thick white laces tight, tying them in precise, firm knots around my ankles.

Knox sat back up and took off his sneakers. He pulled his skates from his bag, put them on, and tied the laces quickly.

"Stand up," Knox murmured, standing up beside me on the rubber matting and offering his hand.

I took his hand, stepping off the rubber matting onto the smooth, slippery ice.

My feet instantly shot sideways.

"Whoa!" I gasped, my arms flailing as my balance completely vanished.

Before I could fall backward, Knox caught me effortlessly.

His large, solid hands wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest as his skates dug cleanly into the ice, keeping both of us completely stable.

"Easy, Bookworm," Knox growled softly, a faint, fleeting glint of his usual smirk returning as he held me secure. "I’ve got you."

My heart hammered violently against my ribs—not just from the threat of falling, but from the sudden, intense heat of his body pressed flush against mine in the dark arena.

I instinctively reached up, my hands gripping the broad lapels of his track jacket to keep my balance on the slick surface.

"You’re terrible at this," Knox noted dryly, slowly gliding backward while holding my waist, guiding me across the ice.

"I told you I don’t skate," I muttered, my cheeks burning as I clung to his shoulders while we glided through the quiet arena under the faint emergency lights.

Knox glided to a halt in the middle of the rink, the quiet hum of the refrigeration system vibrating beneath our feet.

He didn’t let go of my waist.

He looked down at me. The amber light highlighted the sharp lines of his face and the raw, honest emotion in his eyes. ℯℯ𝘭.

"I lost the game, Bennett," Knox whispered. "My father pulled my draft endorsement... and half this campus probably wants my head right now."

He pulled me closer, his warm breath brushing against my face as he looked at me.

"Tell me I didn’t lose you too."