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

34. Savannah

34

Savannah

We lie tangled together and I trace patterns on his chest, the warmth of his skin grounding me. My fingers drift over the ink etched above his heart. “Why a bird? Let me guess—it’s symbolic. Freedom? Flight? A love for chicken wings?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling under my palm. “Close, but not quite. It’s a phoenix.”

I pause, my finger hovering over the design. “A phoenix? Like… rising from the ashes?”

His smile fades into something quieter, more reflective. “Yeah. Got it after a rough patch. A few years ago, I thought the Chicago Blizzards were everything. When they picked Blake and passed on me, I… didn’t handle it well. I was angry, reckless. Burned a lot of bridges, made a lot of mistakes.”

I blink, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. “But you came back.”

“Barely,” he admits. “I was picked by the Destroyers, but after my attitude cost me a suspension, I knew something had to change. I went through rehab—not for drugs, but for my temper. Anger management, therapy, the works. It was brutal, but it worked. I started to see hockey as part of me, not all of me.”

I trace the bird’s wings again, my chest tightening. “And now?”

“Now it’s a reminder. Of how far I’ve come. That even when I feel like I’ve lost everything, I can rebuild. I’m not the guy I used to be.” He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin. “And I won’t let anything or anyone—especially myself—mess this up with you.”

I press a soft kiss to his chest, just above the phoenix, letting my lips linger on the warm ink. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For sharing that with me. For letting me see all of you.”

His hand comes up to tangle gently in my hair, his thumb brushing the side of my face. “Of course, babe. With you? It’s easy, Sav. You make it easy.”

I smile against his skin, the weight of his words settling into my chest. But as the quiet stretches between us, a question I’ve kept buried for too long starts to surface. My heart thuds in my ears as I lift my gaze to meet his. “Blaze?”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, his attention unwavering.

I take a breath, steeling myself. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Something I haven’t known how or when to bring up.”

“What’s that?”

“You seemed hurt when I told you I thought you were Blake, you know, when we were together at the creek,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I get why. But then… you moved on so easily, almost like it didn’t bother you. I just—” I pause, swallowing hard. “I’ve always wondered if you really forgave me or if you just… pretended to.”

Blaze’s jaw tightens for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he’s weighing his words. “It did bother me, Savannah. At first, of course—and you saw it—it felt like a gut punch. Blake was always the golden twin. He was drafted first, picked for the best teams, always the guy everyone wanted. And then you… you wanted him, not me. Or at least, I thought so.”

“I did,” I admit, my voice trembling. “Before that night at the creek, I thought Blake was… everything. I had this picture of him in my head, of what it would be like to be with him. But I never acted on it. Not until…”

“Not until you thought I was him,” Blaze finishes, his voice steady but laced with an edge of vulnerability.

I nod, shame burning in my chest. “I know how awful that must’ve felt. And if it had been the other way around—that you had been with me thinking I was Sabrina—I don’t know if I could’ve forgiven you, so how could you?”

His lips press into a thin line for a moment before he speaks. “Because once I got past the initial anger, I realized something. You never loved Blake. You had a crush, an idea of him, but you had never given yourself to him. But that day by the creek, when it was me? I could feel it. You weren’t connecting with some fantasy version of Blake or any other man—you were connecting with me. And I knew it was real.”

My throat tightens as I process his words. “How could you be so sure?”

He leans closer, his hand brushing my cheek. “Because I know the difference between being wanted and being needed. With Blake, you wanted something you thought you couldn’t have. But with me, you let yourself need someone in a way that wasn’t just about who I looked like. It was about me. I felt it then, and I feel it now.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I manage a wobbly smile. “You’re so damn sure of yourself. Mr. Cocky.”

“That’s me. And be honest, you like it.”

“I do.”

His lips curve into a small grin. “When it comes to you, Savannah? I am sure of myself. And I’m sure about us.” He cups my face fully, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes. “I didn’t take anything from Blake. What you and I have? It was never his. It’s ours. And I’ll spend my life making sure you know that.”

Emotion swells in my chest, and I press a soft kiss to his palm. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “For understanding. For seeing me… even when I didn’t know how to see you.”

Blaze leans his forehead against mine, his breath warm and steady. “I’ll always see you, Savannah. You’re mine. And I’m not letting anything—or anyone—change that.”

I let out a shaky laugh, the weight of his words both grounding and freeing me.