CHAPTER 1

BLADES & BREAKAWAYS

Chapter 1: Viral Chaos

Ryker Hayes' POV

I should've known something was wrong the moment my phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

Dumping my duffel bag onto my couch, I yanked off my hoodie and grabbed my phone off the counter. The screen was flooded with notifications. Twitter, Instagram, even my email-everywhere I looked, there was some kind of mention, tag, or headline with my name in it.

I frowned, unlocking my phone.

• Hockey's Ice King Saves Figure Skating's Golden Boy?!

• Ryker Hayes & Blake Sinclair: The Sports Crossover We Never Knew We Needed

• What's REALLY Going On Between NHL's Toughest Enforcer & The Ice Prince?

Jesus. What the hell?

I clicked on one of the links, and there it was-a video I didn't even know existed.

The grainy footage showed the chaos from last night. The reporters. The flashing cameras. The way Blake was trying to push through the mob, wide-eyed and panicked.

And then-me.

Grabbing his wrist. Pulling him close. The way our bodies nearly collided as I shielded him from the crowd. The way he had looked up at me, breathless, lips slightly parted, like he didn't know what to do with the fact that I was standing in front of him.

Whoever filmed this edited it like some slow-motion rom-com scene, dramatic music and all. The comments underneath were even worse.

@hockeytrash9: "Tell me why I just watched this 50 times???"

@skateordie: "I don't even like hockey but I suddenly care about Ryker Hayes."

@shippercentral: "I didn't even know that Ryker's gay."

@coldasice: R they a thing or just friends?

I ran a hand down my face. What the actual fuck.

Of all things, I did not need this.

I had enough to deal with-my contract renewal, the upcoming playoffs, the constant pressure to prove myself. The last thing I needed was the internet making me the lead in some ridiculous sports romance fantasy.

I should've just walked away last night.

Instead, I let my instincts take over.

And now?

Now I was stuck in a media circus with Blake Sinclair, of all people.

The next morning, I was already in a shit mood when I walked into my agent's office.

Matt Grayson-my manager and the guy responsible for keeping my career from burning to the ground-stood behind his desk, arms crossed. Next to him? Ava Sinclair.

Blake's sister. Also, his coach.

This couldn't be good.

"Ryker," Matt sighed, rubbing his temples. "Glad you could finally make it."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, dropping into the chair across from him. "Mind telling me why I'm here?"

Ava didn't waste time. "Because your little stunt with my brother has turned into a PR nightmare."

I blinked. "My stunt?"

She shot me a glare. "Do you have any idea how many reporters have been hounding Blake since that video went viral? How many people are suddenly speculating about his personal life, his career, his-"

"Okay, hold on." I held up a hand. "I didn't ask for any of that. I was just trying to get him out of there."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "And yet, here we are."

Matt cleared his throat. "Look, Ryker. We need to get ahead of this before it spirals out of control. That's why we're having you and Blake participate in a charity ice event together."

I stared at him.

"...What?"

"It's a one-time thing," Matt said quickly. "A friendly exhibition. A chance to show the media there's nothing going on while also boosting your public image."

I scoffed. "So, what? You want me to prance around on the ice with him and pretend we're best friends?"

Ava crossed her arms. "Unless you want this rumor to get worse? Yes."

I clenched my jaw. This was bullshit.

I didn't do PR stunts. I wasn't some celebrity who needed to play nice for the press. I was a hockey player, and I wasn't about to let some internet drama dictate my career.

But one glance at Matt told me I didn't really have a choice.

I exhaled sharply. "Fine. Whatever. When's the event?"

Ava smirked. "Next month, but the practice will begin next week."

Great. Just fucking great.

The next time I saw Blake Sinclair, he looked pissed.

We met at the rink where the charity event was supposed to take place so we could practice. He was already there, standing near the boards, arms crossed. His perfectly styled blonde hair was slightly tousled, his sharp blue eyes narrowed at me like I personally ruined his life.

"Okay," I said, tugging off my gloves. "Let's get this over with."

Blake scoffed. "Oh, trust me, I'm just as excited as you are."

I frowned. "Look, man, I get that you're mad, but this isn't my fault."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Not your fault? Do you have any idea how many reporters have been calling me nonstop? How many people are suddenly shipping us like we're some kind of-" He waved his hands dramatically. "-forbidden sports romance?"

I grimaced. "Yeah. I saw the comments."

Blake huffed, crossing his arms. "Well, congratulations. You're officially the internet's new favorite hockey boyfriend."

I made a face. "Don't say that."

"What, hockey boyfriend?"

I groaned. "Jesus, stop."

Blake smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, I don't like this situation any more than you do. But we have to do this event, so let's just get through it without killing each other."

Blake arched an eyebrow. "That depends. Are you even capable of skating without trying to fight someone?"

I scowled. "I skate just fine."

"You barrel into people for a living."

"It's called checking."

"It's called lack of control."

I took a step closer. "You wanna test that theory, twinkle toes?"

Blake's lips curled into a challenge. "Bring it on, bruiser."

For a split second, we just stood there, eyes locked, tension thick enough to slice through the ice beneath us.

Then Ava clapped her hands. "Alright, children. Enough flirting. Let's get started."

Blake and I both snapped our heads toward her.

"We're not flirting."

Ava just smirked.

I sighed. This was going to be a long fucking week.