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

14. Blaze

14

Blaze

As I walk her back to the Airbnb, the weight of reality crashes back down on us.

Her lips are still swollen, her cheeks flushed, and for one heartbeat, I think everything's okay. But then her chin lifts, and there it is—that damn wall she throws up every time she feels something she doesn’t want to.

“Well,” she says, voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet night. “That was… something.”

I stop and step closer, refusing to let her retreat any further. “Something,” I echo, my tone low, controlled. “That’s all you’ve got?”

She quirks an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes. “What do you want me to say, cocky boy? That it was life-changing? Earth-shattering? That I’ve fallen head over heels for the guy who fake-proposed without consulting me?”

I huff out a breath, half a laugh, half frustration. “I already apologized for that.”

“Sure,” she says, waving a hand. “But an apology doesn’t exactly wipe out the headline. I can already see it: City Girl Snagged by Small-Town Cowboy. Very Hallmark.”

Her attitude is a shield, one I know she’s using to keep me at arm’s length. Does she feel guilty about having let me in her fantasy? Whatever it is, I’m not letting her off that easily. “You’re deflecting,” I say, my voice steady. “That’s what you do when you’re scared.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a second, I think I’ve gone too far. But Savannah being Savannah, she doesn’t back down.

“Scared?” she repeats, her voice dripping with mockery. “Of you? Please.”

“No,” I say, stepping closer, invading her space. “Of this. Of us.”

She lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve got some ego if you think us is even on my radar.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, the word slipping out before I can stop it. Her eyes widen, and I press on. “You feel it, Savannah. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Her jaw tightens, her gaze flicking away for the briefest second. “Feel what?” she asks, her voice softer now, but still tinged with sarcasm. “Your ridiculous possessiveness? Or the fact that I’m apparently the damsel in distress in your knight-in-shining-armor fantasy?”

"Oh? You're going there again ? What are you really afraid of, Savannah?"

She freezes, her eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I see something flicker there—something raw, vulnerable—but it’s gone just as quickly. She shakes her head, letting out a breath. “You make everything so damn complicated.”

I tilt my head, watching her carefully. “Complicated doesn’t mean wrong.”

“No, but it means messy,” she fires back. “And messy? That’s not my thing.”

“Life’s messy, Princess,” I counter, my voice softer now. “And you don’t always have to have it all figured out.”

Her lips part, and for once, she doesn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, she stares at me like I’ve just said something in a language she doesn’t understand. “That’s easy for you to say,” she murmurs finally, her voice quieter now. “You don’t have anything to lose.”

“You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know the risk of putting my emotions—and my life—on the line?”

She frowns, crossing her arms again. “You don’t have Aubrey.”

The mention of her best friend makes me pause.

Now I get it.

“You’re afraid of what this could do to your friendship.”

“Of course I am!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “If this goes south—and it probably will—I don’t just lose you. I lose her. And her family. And everything that’s come with being a part of this world.”

The crack in her voice catches me off guard. I take a step closer, reaching for her hand. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull away. “Savannah,” I say softly. “You’re overthinking this.”

She scoffs, but it’s half-hearted. “That’s what I do. I’m great at business, at planning, at knowing what comes next. People pay me to 'overthink' for them. But this?” She gestures between us. “This isn’t in any playbook I’ve ever read.”

“You don’t need a playbook for this,” I say, squeezing her hand gently. “You just need to trust yourself. Trust us.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, looking down at our joined hands. “Trust. That’s a big word.”

“Yeah,” I agree, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between us. “But it’s not as scary as you think.”

She looks up at me then, and for a second, I think she’s going to lean in, let herself fall into this thing between us. But instead, she pulls her hand back, taking a step away. “Maybe it’s not me,” she says, her voice hesitant. “Maybe it’s you.”

I frown, my chest tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe I’m not the one making this hard,” she says, her gaze darting to the ground. “Maybe you are.”

The accusation hits harder than I expect. “How?”

She exhales, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Because you… you make me feel things I don’t want to feel. And maybe I’d be better off with someone who doesn’t.”

“Like Dane,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend.

Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” I mutter, my jaw tightening. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think he’s the safe choice because if things go south with him, you don't lose Aubrey of the Ice support. Or the Ice account? And because you don't know him. And you don't know me.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but then closes it, her silence more damning than anything she could’ve said. “Maybe,” she whispers finally. “Maybe he is.”

The words feel like a punch to the gut, but I force myself to stay steady. “And what am I? The reckless one? The one you think will hurt you?”

Her gaze softens, her voice barely audible. “I don’t think you’d hurt me. Not on purpose. But you… you’re intense. And I don’t know if I can handle that.”

"Oh, I am the intense one? I am the one with the public sex fantasy?"

"I knew it! I knew you'd eventually use the secrets I told you in confidence against me. And that's why you can't be trusted, and I won't open up again."

I step forward, closing the distance she’s trying so hard to maintain. “You say you can't handle that I'm intense? You already are,” I say quietly. “You’re stronger than you think, Savannah. And have you considered maybe you are intense too?”

She shakes her head, her eyes glistening. “I can’t… I just can’t.”

Her words slice through me, but I nod, knowing there’s no point in pushing her further tonight. “Okay,” I say, my voice rough. “If that’s what you want.”

She looks at me, her expression torn, and for a second, I think she might say something else. But then she turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the quiet night.

I watch her go, the ache in my chest growing with every step she takes. When she disappears into the shadows, I’m left with nothing but the ghost of her touch. Like a kid clutching a handful of sand, feeling it slip through his fingers, no matter how tightly he tries to hold on. The harder he grips, the faster it escapes, leaving him desperate and empty-handed.