Page 57 of Pucking Forbidden

The tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“Okay,” he murmurs after a second. “Yeah. Thanks, Hadley.”

“Of course.”

I hear the doors leading into the rink open behind us, and the atmosphere shifts in an instant, and I know without looking who’s just walked in.

Julian.

Slowly, I turn and find him just inside the doorway, his gaze locked on us. It lingers, taking in the distance between us…or the lack thereof.

Something in his expression tightens. I realize my hand is still on Theo’s arm and I snatch it away without thinking. Why am I acting like I’ve been caught doing something wrong?

Theo appears to see it too.

“Alright,” he declares suddenly, pushing away from me. “I should probably head out.”

I blink. “Already?”

“Yeah.” He nods and swallows. “Early morning tomorrow.”

He gives me a wink, then hurries off the ice.

“See you, Wilder!” he calls without slowing.

I watch him go, a little thrown by how fast that shifted.

I’m quickly distracted when Julian gets on the ice and starts moving toward me. I barely have time to process it before he’s right in front of me and pulling me into a hug.

I freeze. He’s never done this before.

The feel of his strong arms wrapping around me fills me with an instant, blinding rush of heat. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I relax into his hold, my hands skimming up his sides, feeling the warm, firm muscle beneath his hoodie. He pulls me in tight, holding me as if he’s trying to anchor me to the earth. For several long, breathless seconds, the rest of the world falls away. His head buries into the crook of my neck, his warm breath fanning against my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. Then, I feel the slow, deliberate pressure of his thumb rubbing a soothing circle up and down my lower back.

“Hey,” he murmurs when he eventually pulls back.

He stays right there, his hands lingering on my waist, pinning me against the boards. Our lips are mere inches apart, so close I can feel the heat of his shallow exhale against my mouth. My gaze drops to his mouth for a fraction of a second, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

“Hey,” I echo.

Julian nods toward the ice. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him.

“You okay?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over my face to read my expression. “Was he bothering you?”

“No, I’m okay,” I murmur, offering him a reassuring smile to ease the sudden, tense coil of his muscles. “Really. It’s fine.”

He stares at me for one more long, heavy second, searching my eyes for any hint of hesitation or fear. When he finds none, the lethal sharpness in his posture recedes just a fraction. He nods once, dropping the subject completely without another word, but his grip on my back tightens slightly, pulling me just a half-inch closer before releasing me.

He grins. “All right, let’s do it.”

Julian skates over to the rink’s old sound system mounted by the penalty box. He plugs his phone in, and a second later, a low, moody indie track begins to echo through the empty arena, the heavy bass vibrating through the floorboards.

We fall into it easily after that as we skate on opposite sides of the rink.

The tension between us doesn’t disappear completely, but it softens as we settle into the familiar rhythm between us. As the music swells, the heavy, suffocating weight of my dad's phone call evaporates. I feel light, almost weightless, as I dance across the ice. Every few paces, I find myself glancing his way, only to find his eyes already fixed on me even as he pushes his puck along. The weight of his gaze feels like it’s burning directly into my skin in the best possible way, making my blood run hot. After a while, we move to the team bench to sit and take a break. Julian reaches into his bag and pulls out a water, handing it to me without a word.

I smile, taking it. “You always come prepared?”