Page 312 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
Clear.
Unmistakable.
And whatever comes next, we’re facing it together.
I push through the tunnel, the sounds of the arena fading behind me as something quieter, steadier takes its place.
I’m done here.
Done with this chapter.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not wondering what comes next.
I know.
It’s her.
sixty-eight
Elijah
The noise of the arena doesn’t fade when we step away from the ice.
It follows.
It seeps into everything, the corridors, the private levels, the quiet spaces that are supposed to be separate from the chaos below. It lingers in the air like static, like something still waiting to break open again.
I feel it in my body.
Not tension.
Readiness.
My hand stays at the back of her neck as we move through the private suite, my fingers resting just under her hairline, my thumb brushing slow, grounding strokes against her skin. I don’t think about it. I don’t question it.
I just… don’t let go.
She’s different tonight.
I noticed it the moment she stepped onto the ice.
Not just the way she looked.
The way she held herself.
There was a moment, just before Jackson kissed her, where I expected to see it. That flicker. That hesitation. That instinct to pull back under the weight of being watched.
It didn’t come.
She felt it.
I know she did. But she stayed calm and lifted her chin. Stood there like she belonged in the middle of it.
My jaw tightens slightly at the memory. Because she does belong there, and I’ll break anyone who tries to make her feel otherwise.
The screen in front of us flickers as the post-game interview begins, pulling my attention forward again.
Jackson fills the frame.
