<h2 id="id__798_130_" ss="heading_s1">FIVE WEEKS LATER</h2>


    Billie Calloway doesn’t throw parties; she creates memorable experiences.


    Tonight is no exception. Her Manhattan penthouse, which is one of many, looks like the inside of a champagne bottle exploded. It’s gold glitter with diamond chandeliers and sequined dresses that cost more than what some people make in a lifetime. The skyline outside zes with spotlights. The Empire State Building is lit like it’speting with this party. Music throbs through the room,ughter echoes off the marbled walls, and cameras randomly sh. It’s a safe space though.


    Billie doesn’t just decorate; she designs arenas. This isn’t just another Calloway spectacle or a New Year’s Eve celebration, which the entire family is known for. Tonight, we’re here to celebrate Nick Banks’s engagement to Julie Lovnd.


    Nics fucking Banks is getting married.


    He’s one of my best friends and a brother in everything but blood. He once swore offmitment harder than I swore off carbs during preseason. Now? He’s across the room in a clean-cut tuxedo, wearing an orange tie, smiling at the beautiful redhead on his arm like they just shared an inside joke. She’s his fiancée. His forever. The love of his life.


    He doesn’t care that half of New York’s elite is watching him kiss her. It almost makes me believe in something fictional like love.


    But if Nick can change … Nick, who used to treat women like they came with expiration dates … then maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.


    I’m the exception.


    Love isn’t in my ybook and never has been. I’m Patterson Cross—center for the New York Angels, fan favorite, notorious tabloid headline maker. I’m the guy who breaks hearts and builds rivalries. I’m known for ruining happy endings, not living them.


    Still, watching Nick hold Julie tight makes something hollow in my chest ache in ways I don’t admit to anyone.


    “Patterson Cross,” someone slurs, pping me on the back. It’s Wyatt King, our rookie winger, already drunk on Billie’s bottomless champagne fountain.


    “Smile, man. It’s New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow is a brand-new year,” he says to me.


    Yeah, no pressure.


    I force a grin, tip back my drink, and scan the elite crowd. Anything to distract myself from the bullshit. It’s a mistake, though, because that’s when I see her.


    Kendall Hart.


    Her name is bitter on my tongue.


    She’s my coach’s daughter, my little sister’s best friend, and my brother’s ex-fiancée. Kendall is the ghost that shows up in my memories, and she’s always haunting me.


    I hate her. I fucking hate her.


    She shouldn’t be here. Not in this room. Not in this city.


    But still, she persists, and this time, she’s not alone.


    Her hand is tucked possessively around the arm of Damien ckwell.


    Yeah. That Damien. Captain of the Brooklyn Cobras, my biggest rival on the ice. He knocked my Angels out of the yoffsst season and hasn’t stopped smirking about it since. He’s dangerous on skates, insufferable off them, and now he’s strutting into Billie Calloway’s penthouse with Kendall on his arm like she’s the Stanley Cup. I won’t even mention the influence his entire family has in New York.


    The crowd parts like their movements are scripted. The event photographer’s camera shes, and champagne bubbles. Damien whispers something in Kendall’s ear, and herughter floats across the room toward me. Her dress is silver and cut low enough to start wars. Sequins catch the light like she wore it to personally blind me.


    And the worst part is, she easily finds me in this crowded room.


    Our eyes lock together, and I can’t break the hold she has on me.


    Not even as the countdown to the new year begins.


    Ten, nine, eight …


    Everyone moves closer to the windows to watch the ball drop. Nick and Julie are front and center,manding the spotlight with their perfect, glowing love story. All eyes are on them or the ball.


    But not mine. Mine are locked on Kendall. Her mouth curves in that cocky smile I’ve never been able to scrub from my damn head.


    Damien’s arm mps tighter around her waist, staking a im that makes my blood boil. Kendall wraps her arms around his neck but holds my gaze. She knows exactly what she’s doing. This is her opening move in a game that I told her I wouldn’t y.


    Three. Two. One.


    “Happy New Year!” everyone screams.


    Confetti rains inside and outside. Champagne corks pop, and cheers fill the night. Nick and Julie kiss under the glittering gold, sealing their future.


    But all I can think about is Kendall’s eyes still burning into me.


    If she keeps this up, I will give her hell.


    The only thing that pulls me away from my thoughts is Regina, the model I brought as my date. She’s tugging at my arm, shouting something about a toast, her champagne nearly spilling onto my suit.


    When I nce back, Kendall slips out of Damien’s grip like smoke. She weaves through the crowd in that silver dress that clings to every curve. The sequins catch the light like a thousand tiny knives. My pulse races with every step she takes closer, closer, until she’s standing directly in front of me.


    For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just us.


    My jaw clenches as her perfume hits me. It’s sweet and familiar. It’s memory and poison, all wrapped into one. Her gaze rakes over me before she meets my eyes. Her smirk is merciless, and her eyes are cold. Calcted even.


    Kendall doesn’t say a single word, but neither do I.


    The noise of the party rages around us, but it also blurs.


    It’s just her and me, toe to toe, trading silent daggers. Her eyes dare me to break first, to break the promise that I made years ago. I will never fucking speak to you again, I swore to her. Though I have a million things I want to say, I won’t give her the satisfaction.


    The silence stretches on for too long. It feels too heavy, too loaded. Her not speaking is a de sharper than anything she’s ever said to me.


    Damien barks her name, and it causes my jaw to clench tight. She doesn’t flinch or even acknowledge him. Instead, she spins around, her dress swooshing with every movement as she walks away.


    She shouldn’t sparkle like a damn diamond, but somehow, she does.


    Regina scoffs. “That was weird.”


    “Yeah,” I mutter, sipping my drink as she chats about champagne towers.


    I barely register that I have a date to entertain because Kendall’s presence has wrecked me. I’ve avoided her for years and made it crystal clear to my little sister, Addison, that I do not want to see Kendall. Ever.


    I let out a frustrated sigh as the party continues on.


    Nick kisses Julie like she’s his forever. And me?


    I stand there, gutted, because Kendall gave me nothing.


    No words I can fight. Zero insults or rudements. I have aeback for everything and she usually has a lot to say. Not tonight, though.


    Her silence will take up space in my head. Somehow, she’s suffocating me without even trying.


    Fuck, have I mentioned I hate everything about her?


    Well, I do. And that’s a problem because hate also feels a hell of a lot like wanting her.


    That can never happen.


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