CHAPTER 9

BLADES & BREAKAWAYS

Chapter 9: The First Break

Ryker Hayes' POV

I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into the rink.

Blake was off.

Not in the usual way-not the snarky, teasing kind of off where he'd smirk and call me a dumbass for tripping over my own skates. No, this was different.

He was quiet. Too still. His hands gripped the boards like they were the only thing keeping him upright, his expression blank in a way that sent a sharp, uncomfortable feeling through my chest.

I followed his gaze.

The screen above the rink, usually playing random highlights, was now frozen on a video thumbnail. A familiar one.

A figure, mid-air. A fall. A crash.

I didn't need to click on it to know what it was.

Blake's accident.

I clenched my jaw. Who the hell had dug that up?

The video had resurfaced online before, always brought back by some shitty sports page looking for engagement clicks. But this time, I could tell it had hit differently.

Blake wasn't looking away.

He was staring, his knuckles white, his jaw tight.

I skated up beside him, nudging his shoulder. "Hey."

No response.

I frowned. "Blake."

Still nothing.

I exhaled, resisting the urge to grab his wrist and yank him out of whatever downward spiral he was sinking into. "It's just a video," I muttered. "Some idiot probably reposted it for attention-"

Blake let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Just a video."

His voice was flat.

I hated it.

I wasn't the kind of guy who knew the right thing to say.

I wasn't good at comforting people, at sitting them down and talking through their feelings like some kind of therapist.

But I knew one thing.

Blake was a fighter.

And fighters didn't quit.

So I grabbed his wrist.

"Ryker-"

I pulled him onto the ice before he could protest, skating backward as I dragged him with me.

"Skate," I said.

Blake scowled. "I don't-"

"Skate," I repeated, firmer this time.

His eyes flashed. "I don't need you to-"

"You didn't come this far just to quit."

That shut him up.

For a second, he just looked at me, like he wasn't sure whether to punch me or listen.

But then, hesitantly, he started moving.

Slow at first. Stiff. Like his body had forgotten how to trust itself.

I didn't let go of his wrist.

Not until I felt the tension in his grip ease, just barely.

Not until I saw his shoulders relax, his breathing steadying.

Not until I knew-really knew-that he wasn't about to let some stupid video define him.

It should have ended there.

It should have been fine.

But then Blake suddenly dug his blades into the ice, stopping so fast that I nearly crashed into him.

"What the hell is your problem?" he snapped.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Blake shoved my shoulder. "You act like you have me all figured out. Like you know exactly what I need, like you can just-just fix things by dragging me onto the ice."

I frowned. "I wasn't trying to-"

"You don't get it, Ryker," he cut me off, his voice sharp. "You don't know what it's like to be afraid of failing. To have everything you worked for ripped away in a split second."

I clenched my fists. "You think I don't know what failure feels like?"

Blake scoffed. "You're a hockey player. You get a thousand second chances. I screw up once? I'm done."

Something in me snapped.

"You're not done, Blake."

He laughed bitterly. "Says who? You?"

"Yes," I shot back. "Me."

He stared at me.

And for the first time since I'd met him, Blake Sinclair looked lost.

The silence stretched between us, heavy.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us breathed.

And then, Blake exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"What are we even doing, Ryker?"

His voice was quiet now. Frustrated. Confused.

I swallowed. "I don't know."

Blake let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know," he repeated. "Great. That's really-really helpful."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Because the truth was?

I didn't know.

I didn't know why I had been staying late at practice just to be around him.

I didn't know why I had started looking for his reactions, his approval, his damn smile.

I didn't know why he had started feeling so important.

I just knew that he did.

And that scared the hell out of me.

I didn't think.

I didn't plan it.

One second, I was standing there, my heart pounding, my hands shaking.

And the next?

I kissed him.

Quick. Desperate. A mistake before I even realized what I was doing.

Blake inhaled sharply, his entire body going still, his lips parting just slightly in shock.

And for a brief, terrifying second, I thought-

I thought maybe-

But then reality hit me like a slap to the face.

I pulled back so fast it felt like I had been burned.

Blake's eyes were wide, his breathing uneven.

I took a step back. Then another.

Then I turned and walked away.

Because I was a coward.

Because I didn't know how to do this.

Because I was falling-and I didn't know how to stop.