The arena buzzed with electricity. Fans packed the stands in a sea of jerseys, camera flashes, and popcorn. The boards hummed from recent impact, skate marks streaked the ice, and the scent of sweat, rubber, and victory hung heavy in the air.

It was game day. A big one.

And there he sat—twenty-two-year-old Lysian Kade. Youngest on the team. Fastest on the ice. Recruited straight out of college mid-season like a stolen secret.

Scouts had been watching him for a while, but nobody thought they’d pull him so soon. And then he dropped one goal, two assists and two fists in his NHL debut, and now here he was.

His helmet was off, sweat in his dark curls, cheeks flushed from warmups. He sat on the bench, lazily adjusting his gloves with the kind of calm only found in cocky rookies or seasoned legends. Maybe both.

Beside him sat Corbin Vale, a thirty-something veteran defenseman who had fists like bricks and a laugh that echoed through locker rooms. Across from them, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and chewing on a piece of gum like it owed him money, was Declan “Deck” Morrow, the team’s beloved alternate captain with enough scars to make a horror movie jealous.

These two were Lysian’s people. They’d taken him in like an annoying little brother they didn’t know they needed.

Corbin was halfway through retelling a story about a ref tripping over his own skate when Deck’s eyes flicked past Lysian’s shoulder. He stopped mid-chew and smirked. Then, real casual, he said, “Lys, don’t be too obvious when you look, but there’s a cute girl behind you.”

Which was a hilarious instruction for someone like Lysian Kade, because subtlety had never once been his strong suit.

He whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked.

And then—time stopped.

There she was.

She wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing a few rows back near the glass, probably looking for her seat or someone she knew. But Lysian swore the entire arena dimmed around her. The crowd blurred, the music muffled, the stadium lights all pointed in her direction.

She had this softness about her—kind eyes, a gentle face, like she smiled often and meant it every time. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, and her cheeks were a little pink, like the cold had kissed her on the way in. She looked his age. Twenty-one, maybe? Just a year younger. She wasn’t overly done up like the other fans who wanted autographs and attention. She just looked… nice. Beautiful. Honest.

And she smiled at him.

Not a polite smile. Not a fan smile. A real smile. Sweet and a little curious, like maybe she thought he was cute too.

His stomach dropped straight into his skates. His heart forgot how to beat. His gloves slipped out of his hands and landed on the floor in front of him with a stupid little thud.

He panicked.

Whipped around like he’d been caught stealing. Eyes wide. Ears red.

Deck and Corbin were already laughing. Corbin slapped his shoulder while Deck muttered something under his breath that probably wasn’t appropriate for children.

Lysian blinked at the boards in front of him, willing his heart to shut up and his brain to reboot. That smile. That smile.

Who was she? What was she doing here? Was she here for someone? Was she someone’s girlfriend? No—she couldn’t be. She looked too good. Too good, good. The kind of good that baked cookies for neighbors and probably said “bless you” when people sneezed. The kind of girl who had no idea how pretty she was.

He wanted to know her name. Her favorite color. Whether she liked dogs. Whether she’d ever gone ice skating. Whether she’d want to.

Lysian Kade, NHL’s most reckless recruit, had fought three men on the ice this season and won them all. But now he was sitting on a bench, hands sweaty, jaw slack, because a girl with kind eyes smiled at him like he hung the moon.

And all he could think was—

I’d let her ruin my whole life.