CHAPTER 16

BLADES & BREAKAWAYS

Chapter 16: The Heat Of Competition

Blake Sinclair's POV

The arena hums with energy-low murmurs, the occasional burst of applause, and the unmistakable chill of the ice beneath my skates. I adjust my gloves, inhaling deeply as I wait in the wings. The competition is bigger than any I've faced since my injury. The pressure is suffocating.

My fingers twitch at my sides. I know this feeling all too well-the gnawing uncertainty, the phantom pain in my knee, the fear that maybe, just maybe, I won't be the same as before.

What if I fall? What if I freeze?

I clench my fists. No. Not this time.

A familiar voice echoes in my mind.

"You can't be afraid to fall."

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. Ryker's words have been living rent-free in my mind for weeks. It's infuriating how easily he's burrowed his way under my skin, how his presence lingers even when he's not around.

And then-

A ripple of movement in the crowd catches my attention.

I blink once. Twice.

Front row, just beyond the boards, sitting like he belongs there-Ryker Hayes.

My breath stutters.

The man who thrives in chaos, who's more comfortable throwing punches than watching figure skating, is sitting right there, arms crossed, gaze locked on me.

I almost laugh out loud. Of course, Ryker would show up unannounced, just to throw me off balance.

But instead of nerves, something steadies inside me.

I straighten. My heart, once hammering with doubt, now beats with something else-determination.

You're here.

The announcer calls my name. The audience erupts in applause, but I only hear the steady roar of my own heartbeat. As I take my position at center ice, I allow myself one last glance toward the crowd.

Ryker leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, watching me intently.

I exhale. Then the music begins.

The first few seconds are everything. My blades carve clean arcs into the ice as I launch into my opening sequence. Every movement is sharp, controlled. My jumps-triple axel, a combination spin, a flawless landing-flow effortlessly.

For the first time in a long time, I feel free.

No weight of expectations. No lingering ghosts of my accident. Just me and the ice, moving as one.

My final sequence approaches-a series of quick footwork leading into a powerful jump. The moment my skates leave the ice, time slows.

In midair, I feel it-certainty.

And when I land, the roar of the crowd tells me everything I need to know.

I did it.

Backstage, I barely have time to process before a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"Told you-you were made for this."

My breath hitches.

Ryker stands there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but his expression-pride, admiration, something deeper-makes my chest tighten.

For once, he isn't hiding behind sarcasm or bravado.

He's just here.

I swallow, suddenly aware of how fast my heart is racing. I don't know if it's from the performance or from Ryker's unwavering stare.

"You flew all the way here just to watch me skate?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

Ryker tilts his head slightly. "Couldn't have you falling on your ass without me, could I?"

I roll my eyes, but there's no real heat behind it. His smirk softens, and before I can second-guess myself, I step forward.

The world around us blurs. The noise of the competition fades into the background.

I don't think-I just act.

My hand cups his face, my thumb brushing against his cheekbone, as if committing this moment to memory.

Ryker doesn't move away. Doesn't flinch.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe.

The next morning, I wake up to my phone buzzing incessantly.

Groggy, I reach for it, only for my stomach to drop at the sight of my notifications.

Trending Now: The Ice King & His Enforcer.

Attached is a photo-one taken in the dimly lit hallway after my performance.

It's unmistakable. Me cupping Ryker's face, our expressions raw, unguarded.

But for the first time, it's not a scandal. It's not speculation.

It's us.

And this time, I'm not afraid.