Page 104 of Lose You Twice

The puck snaps back, Grayson catches it, and the whole team moves like one organism. Fast yet controlled.

My stomach flips as I watch, but it has nothing to do with the game.

It’s all because of him.

Kai on the ice is a version of Kai stripped down to the truth. He doesn’t hesitate out there. Doesn’t over explain. Doesn’t apologize for taking up space. He reads, moves, commands. He points once, and Weston shifts without arguing. He taps his stick, and Grayson sends the puck exactly where he expects it. He leans into contact and comes out with possession.

He’s beautiful in a way that pisses me off.

I don’t want to be impressed.

But I am.

The first period is scoreless, but not quiet. PCU gets two good chances, one off Weston’s stick that hits the post and sends him skating back to the bench with both hands on his helmet. Asher shuts down a breakaway with a glove save so clean the crowd erupts right before the whistle blows.

When Kai comes off after a long shift, his breathing is hard, cheeks flushed, hair damp under his helmet. He grabs a water bottle from the top of the boards, squirts once, then looks over his shoulder.

At me.

It’s quick. Still, my skin warms.

“Calloway,” Donnelly says from behind me. “Towels.”

“Right.”

I collect, stack, replace. I keep my head down. I remind myself that this is work. I’m here for hours and money, because my financial aid situation is still a flaming pile of trash.

My appeal still hasn't been processed, and Dad is now thirteen months behind on child support, which, if you do the math, is a butt load of money for four minor children.

Not because Kai looks for me when he comes off the ice.

In the second period, everything gets messier. Their defense plays heavy, and PCU answers. The hits get harder. The crowd gets louder. Coach’s jaw gets tighter. Coleson takes a lazy shift that makes Donnelly mutter something under his breath beside me, and even I can see he peels off too early instead of finishing the backcheck.

Kai sees it too.

He says something to Coleson when they hit the bench, and it’s not received well by the way Coleson’s mouth flattens.

Finally, Grayson scores.

The bench explodes. Weston nearly climbs over the boards, even though he is not on the ice. Asher taps the crossbar with his stick like that was his contribution. Kai gets to Grayson first, glove hitting his helmet, grin wide and real.

My chest pinches.

I used to get that grin.

By the end of the second, PCU is up 1–0, and I’ve successfully avoided eye contact with Kai for nine minutes, which feels like an accomplishment.

Harlow texts me during intermission.

Harlow: You’re staring quite a lot at my brother.

Wren: And you’re staring at Grayson.

Harlow: Mine definitely knows I’m staring.

Wren: Sadly.

Harlow: He keeps looking for you.