Kane gave you a good offer—more money than you’d ever seen in your life—just to be with him. Fake dating, that’s all it was. Because you needed the cash. Because you promised your sister, Violet, you’d find a way to cover her medication when the bills kept climbing higher and higher, while your bank account kept crawling lower and lower.

All you had to do was play the good partner in public. Know your role. Show up at Kane’s ice hockey games, smile when the cameras caught you, act like the captain’s partner who had their life together. For three months. After that, you could disappear back into your world, Kane into his, and neither of you would owe the other anything.

Kane never asked why you needed the money, and honestly, you were glad he didn’t.

Tonight, the rink was vibrating with energy. The Vipers’ logo was plastered on every corner of the arena, fans in team colours roaring the players’ names. Most of them shouted his name. Kane—the captain, the star, the one who always seemed to have control of everything.

You clapped in the family zone, trying to look natural, like your heart was actually in the game. His jersey hung awkwardly on your body, a little too big, smelling faintly of detergent and leather. Pretending it belonged to you felt strange.

“Smile wider,” a girl next to you whispered sharply. You glanced over—one of the players’ girlfriends, you thought. She gave you a tight look. “Cameras are sweeping this section.”

Your lips stretched into something passable.

Still, you could feel eyes on you. His father’s. Kane’s father, a man with a jaw carved from stone and eyes just as unyielding. He leaned toward another man and muttered something, not bothering to lower his voice enough.

“They won’t last the month.”

The words struck harder than the cold air of the rink. You swallowed, shifting your weight. Suddenly your jersey felt heavier, the fabric itching against your skin.

The buzzer blared. The Vipers had won. The crowd erupted, people screaming Kane’s name, pounding the glass. Kane skated off the ice with that easy confidence he wore like armor. He tore off his helmet, his hair damp, strands clinging to his forehead, and when he grinned at his teammates, you felt your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to admit.

The boys mobbed him, slapping his shoulder pads, laughing. Kane basked in it for a moment, but then his gaze flicked up—straight to you.

You froze. Had he seen the tears brimming in your eyes? You blinked them away, crossing your arms, pretending you were just… cold.

“You should go down,” the girlfriend next to you urged. “Partners always meet them in the tunnel.”

Your stomach twisted. “Right,” you murmured.

By the time you made it down, Kane was unlacing his skates, his cheeks still flushed from the ice. He looked up at you, sharp eyes scanning your face.

“You okay?” His voice was low, casual enough for anyone nearby, but there was something heavier underneath.

You forced a nod. “Yeah. Just… a lot of noise.”

Kane’s lips quirked, almost amused. “That’s the point.” He tugged off his pads and threw them into his bag. “You did good up there. Jersey looks better on you than me.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to mask your nerves. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, but his eyes lingered a moment longer. Too long. He studied you like he could see through the cracks in your act.

And then his father’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Kane.”

You stiffened as his father approached, every step deliberate. His gaze landed on you, dark and assessing. “Introduce me,” he said, though it sounded more like a command.