CHAPTER 15: TRAINING DAYS
1121words
The week passed in a blur of ice, sweat, and barely controlled panic.
My first official team practice taught me that hockey players had their own language. "Sauce that puck," "wheel, snipe, celly," and "dropping the mitts" might as well have been ancient Greek. I nodded along, hoping context would save me.
"Silver, you're on Blackwood's line," Coach Martinez announced. "He'll show you the ropes."
The ropes, apparently, involved a lot of very close proximity instruction.
"Keep your stick on the ice," Damon said, skating behind me, his chest almost touching my back as he guided my arms. "Feel the puck, don't just hit it."
Every correction sent electricity through the mate bond. After days of practice, I was fairly certain I'd memorized the exact pitch of his voice when he said my name.
"You're getting better," he noted after I successfully completed a passing drill. "Fast learner."
"Good teacher," I replied, then immediately wanted to kick myself for how breathy that sounded.
The other players started noticing our connection. "You two are like synchronized swimmers out there," laughed Jake, one of the defensemen. "It's weird how well you read each other."
If only they knew how literal that was.
Midweek brought disaster in the form of a collision during scrimmage. I was racing toward the goal when Damon swooped in from the side to defend. We crashed into each other with enough force to send us both sprawling across the ice.
I rolled over, winded but intact. Damon wasn't as lucky.
"Fuck," he groaned, clutching his shoulder. "I think I dislocated something."
Something primal and protective surged through me. Before I could think, I was kneeling beside him, hands hovering over his injured shoulder.
"Don't move," I said, voice tight with concern. "Where does it hurt? Can you wiggle your fingers?"
"Ari," he said, looking up at me with surprise. "I'm okay. It's just—"
"You're not okay." My hands fluttered over him, wanting to help but not knowing how. "We need to get you to the medical center. Now."
The intensity of my reaction caught everyone off guard, including me. I was behaving less like a teammate and more like... well, like a mate whose partner was hurt.
"Easy there, Silver," Coach Martinez said gently. "Blackwood's tougher than he looks. Help me get him to the bench."
Later, as I sat in the medical center waiting room while Damon got X-rays, Noah found me.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," they observed, sitting beside me. "He's fine. Mild strain, not even a real injury."
"I know," I said, but my hands were still shaking. "I just... the way he went down..."
"The way you reacted was very telling," Noah said quietly. "Half the team is wondering if you two are secretly dating."
My face burned. "We're not—"
"I know what you're not. But they don't know that." Noah's expression was serious. "You need to be more careful. Especially with Carter watching your every move."
As if summoned by his name, Carter appeared in the waiting room doorway.
"Well, well," he said, approaching with his usual predatory smile. "Isn't this touching? The new guy, worried sick about his captain."
"He's my teammate," I said evenly.
"Is that all?" Carter moved closer, and I caught a whiff of his scent—aggressive, dominating. "Because from where I was sitting, you looked like a worried girlfriend."
"Back off, Carter," Noah warned.
"I'm just making conversation." Carter's eyes never left mine. "You know, Silver, I've been thinking about our chat last week. About your... family connections."
My blood chilled. "I don't know what you mean."
"Sure you don't." He leaned closer. "Funny thing about those Western territories. I called my cousin out there. Asked about the Silver families."
My heart hammered, but I kept my expression neutral. "And?"
"Nobody's heard of any diplomatic family named Silver. Isn't that interesting?"
Before I could respond, Damon emerged from the treatment room, his left arm in a sling.
"What's going on?" he asked, immediately sensing the tension.
"Just welcoming our new teammate to the family," Carter said smoothly. "Making sure he feels... included."
"Great," Damon said, though his eyes were suspicious. "Silver, ready to get out of here?"
I nodded, grateful for the escape. As we left, I caught Carter's parting words: "See you at practice tomorrow, Silver. We'll continue our chat."
The next practice was torture. Carter watched my every move, commenting loudly about my "unique" style and "interesting" reactions. I could feel his scrutiny like a physical weight.
As the week drew to a close, Noah brought both relief in the form of intel and unexpected complications I wasn't prepared for.
"Dominic arrives Saturday morning," Noah told me during lunch. "Private jet, straight to the VIP suites. He's bringing security—three Alpha guards from the Silver Moon Pack."
My appetite vanished. "They'll smell me for sure."
"Not if you stay downwind and keep moving. I've mapped the arena layout. There are safe zones." Noah slid me a hand-drawn diagram. "But there's something else. Vanessa's coming with him."
"My stepsister? Why?"
"Damage control, probably. Show that the family's united despite your... absence."
Later that evening, after what felt like the most intense practice yet, I found myself alone in the equipment room with Damon. He was struggling to unlace his skates one-handed, frustration clear on his face.
"Here," I said, kneeling to help. "Let me."
"Thanks," he said softly. "For everything this week. Taking care of me when I got hurt, covering for me during drills..."
I looked up to find him watching me with an expression that made my breath catch. The equipment room suddenly felt very small, very quiet.
"Ari," he said, voice rough. "I need to ask you something."
"Okay," I whispered.
He reached out with his good hand, fingers almost touching my cheek. "Are you... I mean, do you feel..."
The question hung between us, loaded with possibility. I could see the confusion in his eyes, the want he didn't understand. The mate bond hummed so strongly I could barely think.
"Damon," I breathed.
He leaned closer, his eyes dropping to my lips. "I don't understand what's happening to me, but I—"
"BLACKWOOD! SILVER! WHERE ARE YOU?"
Coach Martinez's voice boomed through the rink, shattering the moment. Damon jerked back, color flooding his face.
"We should..." he started.
"Yeah," I managed, heart racing. "We should go."
As we gathered our gear in awkward silence, I caught him stealing glances at me, his expression more confused than ever.
Two days until the championship. Two days until Dominic arrived. And now, two people who almost kissed and had no idea what it meant.
This was getting complicated in ways I'd never imagined.
