Scoring with the Wrong Twin (Ice Chronicles Hockey #2)

11. Blaze

11

Blaze

Aunt? I turn to see none other than Luke standing there, his hands on his hips.

Well, that solves the mystery of who interrupted us.

I blink, trying to process what the kid just said. Aunt Savannah? Not Margot Robbie? My jaw tightens as my gaze snaps to her, my brain scrambling to put two and two together.

She looks flustered, her cheeks flushed, probably from the kiss—or maybe from the fact that Luke caught us. Either way, she doesn’t correct him.

“Luke,” she says, crouching down and ruffling his hair in a way that’s almost too casual. “What are you doing out here, huh? Shouldn’t you be with your mom?”

He crosses his arms. “She’s looking for you! She said something about wanting to work with you on preparations for the festival.”

Her eyes widen just a fraction before she glances at me, the tiniest flicker of panic flashing across her face. She straightens quickly, smoothing her hands over her leggings like she’s trying to wipe away whatever just happened between us.

“Yes, the festival,” she says, her voice a little too high-pitched. “Right. I should... go do that.”

Luke grabs her hand, already dragging her toward the house. "Come on! Daddy and I saw you from over there!" He points toward the garden path.

She throws one last glance over her shoulder, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. And then she’s gone, leaving me standing there like some idiot who’s just been blindsided by a freight train.

I’m still trying to process the whole Aunt Savannah revelation when Sean saunters up, grinning like he’s been waiting all day to rip into me.

“Blaze,” he says, his tone dripping with mock disbelief. “So, my wife's best friend, huh? Bold move. Gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

I glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not now, Sean.”

“Not now? Really? Because it looked like now to me.” He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. “Seriously, though, you’re out here making out with Savannah Hart and didn’t even think to let me know?”

“Savannah Hart,” I mutter. “I thought she was Margot Robbie.”

Sean stops mid-laugh, blinking at me. And then he loses it, doubling over as if I’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Margot Robbie? The Australian actress? You thought she was that Margot?!” he wheezes, slapping his knee.

“She looks like her!” I snap, the irritation bubbling over. “How the hell was I supposed to know she’s not some visitor?”

Sean straightens, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like a fool. “Margot’s married, genius. Savannah’s... well, Savannah. Marketing whiz. Aubrey’s co-owner at Pinnacle PR. Kind of a big deal, you know.”

“Fantastic. Just what I needed.”

Savannah Hart. No wonder why the name seemed vaguely familiar. My mind scrambles for a connection, fragments of a meeting at Aubrey’s agency flashing in my head. I remember an office, Aubrey’s partner’s voice cutting through my hangover like a knife, and me wishing I could be anywhere else. I was probably still drunk, and for sure angry and running on zero sleep after Delaney vanished.

Yeah, it wasn’t long after Delaney disappeared. My temper was always on a short fuse, my manners nonexistent. I probably walked into the meeting like the world owed me an apology. Fuck, is that how we met? Could I have been a total ass? Not exactly the version of myself I’d want her to remember. Hell, maybe she doesn’t. I hope she doesn’t.

Of course she doesn’t remember, stupid. If she did, she wouldn’t have let me fuck her senseless. Thank God.

Sean hasn’t stopped laughing. I bet he’s laughing more at my expression than at my mistake. “Damn, Blaze. Smooth. Real smooth.”

“Drop it, asshole.”

“No way, dude. This is too good.” He leans against the fence, his expression shifting to something more serious. “But hey, I gotta admit, it’s nice to see you finally moving on after... you know.”

The mere hint of her name is like a punch to the gut. My jaw locks, my fists clenching at my sides.

Sean notices, his tone softening. “Look, man, I’m not trying to stir up shit. But Delaney’s been gone a long time. Maybe it’s time to let it go.”

“She didn’t just leave,” I say through gritted teeth. “She was taken. Or worse.”

Sean sighs, folding his arms. “Blaze, I know you don’t want to hear this, but what if she wasn’t? What if she left on her own? You ever think maybe she didn’t have the guts to end things face-to-face?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I snap, but the words feel hollow.

“How do you know?” Sean counters, his voice steady but firm. “You’re holding on to something that might not even be real. And it’s eating you alive. You deserve better than that.”

I can’t respond. My chest feels tight, my mind a storm of memories and doubts.

Sean steps closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not the same guy you were back then, Blaze. You’ve got a chance to start fresh. Don’t let her ghost keep you from living your life.”

I shrug him off, my voice low and rough. “Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil.”

Sean smiles. “Anytime. Just don’t screw this up with Savannah. She’s not Delaney. Don’t put that on her.”

He walks away, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers. The weight of his words lingers, pressing down on me like a heavy fog.

But then, just as I thought the conversation was over, Sean stops in his tracks and stays still for a second, as if he's thinking. He turns back, his expression serious now, and strides toward me. “Look, Blaze, I’m happy for you. Really. It’s good to see you finally opening up to someone again. Savannah’s a great woman—smart, loyal, and she’s been there for Aubrey through thick and thin.”

He pauses, his tone shifting to something firmer. “But I need you to understand something. If you screw this up—if you hurt her—it’s not just on you. That’s Aubrey’s best friend. You hurt Savannah, you hurt my wife. And if that happens…” His voice drops, his jaw tightening. “You and I are going to have a problem.”

His words hit harder than I want to admit. The idea of hurting Savannah—or Aubrey—clenches in my chest like a vice. “You really think I’d do that?” I ask, my voice low.

Sean’s expression eases slightly, though his eyes remain steady. “No, I don’t. You’re my brother, and I trust you. But trust can only stretch so far. Don’t make me regret it.”

"I won't."

“Good. We’re done now,” Sean says, his tone firm but lighter than before.

As I watch him go, my mind keeps circling back to Savannah—and the way she looked at me before she left. Maybe Sean’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop looking back and start figuring out what the hell I want from here.

I stand there long after Sean leaves, staring at the spot where Savannah disappeared into the house with Luke. My chest feels like it’s caught in a vise, the tightness from Sean’s words refusing to loosen.

Delaney .

It’s been ages, but her name still cuts through me like a blade. For so long, I convinced myself that she didn’t leave by choice. She wouldn’t just walk away, not from me, not without a word. But Sean’s voice echoes in my head: What if she did?

The thought is enough to make me nauseous. If she left, if she chose to disappear without so much as a goodbye, what does that say about me? About us?

I rake a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth along the fence line. The memories start to blur, moments of laughter and love clashing with the constant arguments toward the end. I clung to the good times, ignored the signs that something was off. That’s what you do when you’re in love—you blind yourself to the cracks until they split wide open.

But now, standing here with Sean’s words hanging over me, I can’t ignore the possibility. Maybe she didn’t love me enough to stay.

And then there’s Savannah.

I lean against the fence, gripping the weathered wood so hard it creaks under my hands. She’s everything Delaney wasn’t—fiery, confident, unshakable. And yet, for all her sharp edges, there’s something vulnerable about her, something she tries to hide but can’t quite keep buried. It’s magnetic, and it’s driving me insane.

The way she kissed me… hell, the way she looked at me like I was more than just the screw-up everyone thinks I am—it’s messing with my head. I barely know her, but she’s under my skin, and I don’t know how to get her out.

Maybe I don’t want to.

***

It’s the next morning, and by the time I pull into the parking lot of the diner where I’m meeting my agent, my thoughts are still tangled, but at least I’ve managed to shove them to the back of my mind. For now.

Inside, the diner smells like coffee and grease, the kind of place that hasn’t changed in decades. My agent, Carl, is already at a booth, scrolling through his phone with the intensity of someone about to close a deal.

“Blaze,” he says when he spots me, sliding his phone into his pocket and gesturing for me to sit. “You’re late.”

“Traffic,” I mutter, sliding into the booth.

“In Cedar Creek? Sure,” he says, smirking as he waves down a waitress.

We order coffee and small talk for a minute, but Carl doesn’t waste time getting to the point. That’s one of the reasons I keep him around—he doesn’t dance around the hard stuff.

“So,” he begins, pulling a folder from his bag and flipping it open. “You’ve completed rehab, the league’s satisfied with your progress, and the suspension is officially lifted.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral even though my chest tightens at the thought of getting back on the ice.

“They’re watching you, Blaze,” Carl continues, his tone firm. “The Destroyers want to reinstate you, but there’s no room for screw-ups. One more incident, and you’re done. No second chances.”

“I know,” I say, my voice low but steady.

Carl studies me for a moment, then leans back in his seat. “You sure about this? You’ve been out of the game for a while. It’s not just about proving you’ve cleaned up—it’s about showing you can still compete.”

“I can compete.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Then we’ve got a meeting set up with the team next week. Be ready.”

The waitress drops off our coffee, and Carl takes a sip before leaning forward again. “One more thing,” he says, his tone lighter. “They’re going to want a clean slate. No baggage. That includes the press digging up old dirt on Delaney.”

My jaw tightens, but I force myself to stay calm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Carl says carefully, “that people are still talking. Speculating. If you want to make a comeback, you need to put it to rest. One way or another.”

I stare at him, the weight of his words pressing down on me. He’s not wrong. Delaney’s disappearance has been a shadow over my career all this time, fueling rumors and feeding the tabloids. But how the hell am I supposed to move on when I don’t even have answers for myself?

“Got it.”

Carl nods, apparently satisfied. “Good. Then let’s get you back on the ice where you belong.”

On the drive back to the ranch, Carl’s words keep playing in my head. No baggage. One way or another.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. Moving on isn’t as simple as flipping a switch. But maybe Sean was right earlier—holding onto Delaney, to the what-ifs and maybes, is only keeping me stuck in place.

By the time I pull into the ranch, the sun is low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the fields. I park the truck and sit there for a moment, staring out at the familiar landscape.

One way or another, it’s time to figure out what the hell I’m doing. With my career. With Delaney. With Savannah.

Because the one thing I know for sure is that ignoring it all isn’t working anymore.