CHAPTER 5

BLADES & BREAKAWAYS

Chapter 5: The First Real Fall

Ryker Hayes' POV

I've never seen someone move like Blake Sinclair.

Hockey is fast, brutal, all about force. My skates carve into the ice like a blade through flesh, and I use my body like a weapon-checking, crashing, fighting. It's survival. It's instinct.

But Blake? He moves like the ice was made for him. Like gravity doesn't apply.

Or at least, he used to.

Right now, he's standing at the center of the rink, fists clenched, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths. He's been trying the same damn jump over and over, and every time, he either hesitates or lands wrong. His frustration is rolling off him in waves.

Ava watches from the boards, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. She hasn't said anything yet, but I can tell she's holding herself back.

Blake exhales sharply and sets up for the jump again-his body twisting, arms tight to his chest as he rotates mid-air. But at the last second, his balance wavers. His skate clips the ice, and he stumbles out of it, barely saving himself from falling.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath.

I don't know much about figure skating, but I know enough to see that something's wrong.

"You're overthinking it," I say, leaning against the boards.

Blake whips around, eyes sharp. "Oh, thanks, Coach. That helps so much."

I roll my eyes. "I mean it. You're stuck in your own head."

He glares at me like he wants to argue, but then he just exhales sharply and looks away. His jaw is clenched so tight it could cut glass.

I get it.

I know what it's like to be trapped in your own expectations, to feel like every mistake is proof that you're not enough. The difference is-when I screw up, I can take it out on someone. Drop the gloves. Throw a punch. Burn the frustration out of my system in a brutal, bloody way.

Blake doesn't have that option.

He has to be perfect. Precise. Controlled.

And the second he loses control, it eats him alive.

I skate toward him, ignoring the way Ava tenses when I get too close. She still doesn't trust me. Can't blame her. I wouldn't trust me either.

Blake doesn't move as I stop beside him. His shoulders are stiff, his hands curled into fists.

I don't know why I say it, but the words come out before I can stop them.

"You can't be afraid to fall."

Blake turns his head slightly, just enough that I can see the flicker of emotion in his expression.

He's silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, "look who's talking." He said sarcastically.

I shake my head. "I fall. I just make sure no one sees it."

It's the first real truth I've given him. Maybe the first one I've let myself admit.

Blake doesn't respond, but I can tell he's thinking about it.

I skate back to the boards, letting him process whatever the hell is going on in his head.

The next time Blake goes for the jump, I can see the shift.

He's pushing harder. Not hesitating. Taking the risk.

And for a second, it looks like he's going to land it-

But then-

His skate catches wrong.

His body twists mid-air.

I watch, helpless, as he crashes down hard against the ice.

The sound of impact is sharp and brutal, cutting through the rink like a gunshot.

Ava is already moving, but I'm faster.

I don't think-I just react. Skating toward him, dropping to my knees beside him as he groans and curls in on himself.

"Blake." My voice comes out rough-more demanding than gentle, but I don't know how to do gentle.

He winces, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck."

Ava reaches us, kneeling on his other side. "Blake, where does it hurt?"

He doesn't answer right away. His breathing is shaky, uneven. I can see the tension in his jaw, the way he's biting down on the pain.

I hate the way it makes something twist in my chest.

Slowly, he pushes himself up, wincing as he moves. "I'm fine."

Ava gives him an unimpressed look. "You just ate ice at full speed."

Blake exhales through his nose. "It's my knee. It just-" He hesitates. "It just locked up."

A flicker of something dark passes over Ava's expression, like she doesn't believe him.

I don't believe him either.

I saw the way he went down. The way he's favoring his leg now, even as he tries to play it off.

"Bullshit," I mutter.

Blake shoots me a glare, but there's no real heat behind it.

"Can you stand?" Ava asks.

Blake nods, but when he tries to push himself up, his knee buckles.

I don't think-I just catch him.

His breath stutters slightly as my arms steady him, my hands gripping his waist instinctively. He's tense, his body rigid against mine.

For a second, we're too close.

His hand is gripping my arm, his face inches from mine, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

I should let go.

I don't.

His eyes flicker to mine, something unreadable in his expression. And for a brief, insane moment, I think he's about to say something-

But then he swallows hard and looks away. "I'm fine," he mutters, pulling back.

I let him go.

Even though I don't want to.

Ava insists on ending practice early, but Blake barely speaks as we leave the rink.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing when I walk beside him, matching his pace.

I don't do this. I don't check in on people. I don't care.

But I hear my own words echoing back at me.

You can't be afraid to fall.

And I wonder if I was talking about him at all.

Or if I was talking about myself.