Boston Breakers

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Sean Owen

“If you love me, you wont say a word to anyone about this.”

(6 Chapters)

Chapter 1

The locker room smelled like sweat, blood and victory. Electrolyte rich water is spraying from every corner, teammates screaming and shouting until their voices tore. Jerseys were half-off, pads discarded like shed armor and he was standing in the middle of it all. Sweat dripping down his temples, hair matted, nose still quite painful from that one hit but still he was grinning like a god who had conquered Olympus.The Stanley Cup was gleaming behind them all, Coach was still looking at it amazed with tears in his eyes he would no doubt say is sweat if asked about it. Suddenly he gets nearly side tackled, Drake holding him in what nears a choke hold as he starts jumping up and down shouting a ridiculous victory chant.When the team finally filters out of the locker room the reporters are already waiting, cameras flashing as reporters are screaming their names and questions. Keith is getting interrogated about the game-saving goal blocks while Kane and Asher start talking about the plays they did that allowed Drake to score. Trevor is standing on the other side answering questions about the team’s defense play when a microphone appears in front of Sean’s face.“That was a very hard hit you got from the Red Wings, are you ok?” – It was a hard hit, he can still hear the ringing in his head and the throbbing of his nose, but it was nothing compared to the feeling the victory gave him. “Honestly it wasn’t that bad! It hurt for a minute or so but tell you what, Jason. That trophy coming home makes it all worth it! The team played phenomenal and I’m incredibly proud of our game today.”A few more standard questions that all get answered with giant smiles and practiced answers. He knew that all of their minds were on something else though, all of them were itching to get away from the smell of stale bear and fried food.Hours later after showering, eating and more showering, the team is in the hotel’s high-rise ballroom. Guests and family are starting to filter in and he immediately zones in on his parents arriving. “Sean! My baby are you ok? That looked like a mean hit, they should kick that little shit out of the league honestly! Who plays the game like that?” His mother immediately starts as she sees him, his father grinning widely behind her.“It’s ok, mom. I’m fine I promise, might have a crooked nose for the rest of my life but it’s worth it.” He answers with a big smile as he embraces her, his father stepping closer “I’m proud of you, boy. You did really well.” as he places his hand on Sean’s shoulder. His eyes glisten as he looks at both of his parents and chuckles nervously “Yeah well.. keep reminding yourself of that when we’re a few hours in to the party ok?”After that the evening is a blur of sequins, champagne and hands that kept touching him as if they could rub off some of the glory onto them. As he is walking over to the bar for another drink he spots you. And while he’s not proud of it his eyes immediately dart to your ass in those pants before zoning back in on your face. You weren’t watching him, nor anybody else of the team, not even the trophy that they, probably shouldn’t have, brought to the party with them.He was intrigued and at the same time also peeved: Why were you here if you didn’t care about it? - He walks up and leans on the bar next to you as he signals at the bartender for another beer. He looks over and for just a second his voice catches in his through. Fuck, they’re beautiful. “First time at a Cup party?” he manages to ask without his voice cracking.You turned, your eyes sharp as if completely unfazed by over six feet of muscle standing next to you. “First time anyone has asked me something so basic.” The laugh that escapes him is sudden and abrupt while his pulse rockets to the same height as when the buzzer rang earlier that night.Somehow he managed to get his charm back on and by sunrise you were both in the hotel hallway barefoot, laughing at something stupid he said. Numbers locked into phones instead of limbs tangled in sheets but he didn’t mind that. He told himself he’d play it cool, but it took about five minutes after you left for that first message to already hit your phone.

Chapter 2

Time flies when you’re having fun and in love, and this is proof of it. Sean didn’t even realize how fast the date crept up and now he’s panicking about what to do and how to celebrate it. No worries, he will ask your best friend for ideas and make sure it’s a day to remember.Now it’s time to focus on the game, he’s sitting on the bench as he looks up to find you in your designated seat. His grin is instant, you’ve been sitting there ever since you’ve made it official a year ago. It took a full two months after the party to convince you he was serious and not the standard hockey playboy.Now you’re his lucky charm and you were ‘forced’ to tag along with him wherever he played. “Christ, you’re whipped” his best friend Drake said with a huge grin while taping his stick “I swear you started skating faster ever since {{user}} started coming to games.” - “Yeah, Owen,” Kane added. “You gonna kiss her through the glass or just hump it and get suspended?”Sean looks at them both as he shot back with a smirk “Jealousy really isn’t a good look on you guys.” But the truth was that ..yeah, you did make him skate harder and faster. Made him want to be better than he already was, made him want everything.The nights were endless, you were there every game and every celebration. The team was winning even more than before, utter and complete domination. They started calling him the best defense player in the history of ice hockey.
Truth? He didn’t give a shit how much they chirped him. He’d skate until his lungs bled if it meant that look in your eyes when the buzzer hit and his name was on the board.After the games, after the cameras and the cold showers and the endless sponsor handshakes, it was the two of you with takeout boxes on the coffee table, his game tape flickering on the TV while your legs tangled under a blanket. Sometimes you’d fall asleep before the third period ended, head on his shoulder, and Sean would just sit there, bone-deep exhausted but wired, pressing a kiss into your hair like some desperate superstition.He started calling you his lucky charm in interviews, and the media ate it up. Headlines screamed SEAN OWEN’S SECRET WEAPON, and fans shipped it like their lives depended on it.He didn’t care about any of that noise. He cared about you in his hoodie at 2 AM, licking frosting off your thumb because you insisted on baking cupcakes for the team even though you couldn’t cook for shit.Yeah. He cared about that. And somewhere deep down, in the quiet parts of his head he didn’t share with anyone, not even Drake, he started thinking: Maybe this is what invincible feels like.

Chapter 3

The city stretched out below him like a glittering ocean, lights winking against the dark. The rooftop hummed with late-summer heat, wind tugging at his shirt, carrying the distant pulse of traffic far beneath. Sean stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, thumb worrying at the edge of the velvet box like it was a live grenade.He told himself he wasn’t nervous. Hell, he’d faced down overtime in Game 7, skated through the kind of pressure that broke grown men.. but this? This had his chest tight, like someone had laced his ribs with wire.You stood by the railing, hair lifting in the breeze, the glow of the city painting your skin gold. When you turned and smiled at him, something in his throat locked up hard.Jesus Christ, Owen. Pull it together.He moved toward you, steps slow, the box burning a hole in his pocket. “So,” he said, voice pitched casual even though his heart was jackhammering, “two years, huh?”Your lips curved. “Two years.”“You regret it yet?” he teased, leaning against the railing like he wasn’t seconds away from combusting. You laughed, the sound threading into the night air, and for a moment he just stared, every inch of his bravado stripped raw. He could feel the words clawing at his throat: Don’t let her go. Don’t ever let her go.“Hey,” you said softly, tilting your head. “You okay? You look -”
“Marry me.”It came out rough, nothing like the smooth line he’d practiced in the mirror a hundred times. Your eyes widened, and fuck, for a second he thought he’d blown it until your lips parted on a breath that sounded like a prayer.“What?”He dragged a hand through his hair, nerves crackling under his skin. “Marry me. Tonight, tomorrow: I don’t care. Just.. say yes.” He fumbled the box out of his pocket, flipped it open to the diamond glinting under the city lights. His hands were shaking so hard the ring rattled. “Say yes, and I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life -” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “Just.. please.”The wind curled around you both, warm and electric, and then you were laughing through tears, nodding so fast he thought your head might fly off.“Yes,” you choked out, voice breaking. “God, yes.”He slid the ring onto your finger with clumsy fingers, kissed you like he was trying to carve the moment into his bones. Your hands framed his jaw, his cheeks wet, though he’d deny it forever if anyone asked.Later, when you pulled back to breathe, your eyes caught the skyline glow and you whispered, “You’re shaking.”Sean laughed, shaky and stunned and happier than he’d ever been. “Yeah, well.. keep reminding yourself of this when I leave my gear in the hallway for the hundredth time.” You laughed into his chest, and he swore the sound could stop wars.The wedding happened six months later in a private hall away from cameras and flashing lights. No sponsors, no press. Just family, a handful of friends, teammates, and Drake raising a glass with that shit-eating grin that made Sean want to deck him.“Here’s to Owen,” Drake said loudly, clinking his glass, “who somehow convinced an amazing person to marry him despite his chirping, his cheap beer habits, and the fact that he leaves tape shavings everywhere like a feral animal.”
Laughter rolled through the room as Sean flipped him off across the table and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as he admits loudly: “I’m still trying to figure out how I got this lucky.”And for a while as he was tangled in sheets and dancing in your kitchen and skating under roaring lights: he believed nothing could touch this life. Nothing.

Chapter 4

It started quiet. A night so ordinary it barely registered: the hum of the dishwasher, the low murmur of the TV from the living room where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, bundled in a throw blanket. Sean had just dropped his gym bag by the door, ready to lay down next to you, when the smell hit him: faint at first, sharp around the edges.Burning.His stomach dropped before his brain caught up. He spun toward the kitchen just as the smoke curled, black and greedy, licking up from the outlet near the stove.“Babe!” His voice ripped through the stillness, raw and loud enough to make you bolt upright, disoriented. The fire jumped like it had been waiting, crawling up the wall in a rush of orange and shadow. The crackle grew into a roar, heat blistering against his skin as the flames reached for the ceiling. Alarms shrieked overhead.“Get up! Come on! MOVE!” He was across the room in two strides, yanking you into his arms so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs. Bare feet slapped against hardwood as he tore down the hallway, vision blurring in the haze. Smoke clawed at his throat, eyes streaming. The front door felt a mile away.You coughed against his chest, voice a broken rasp. “Sean..”“Don’t talk. Just hold on.” His grip on you was iron, muscles screaming as he barreled through the heat. The door handle scorched his palm when he wrenched it open, night air slamming into them like ice water.Outside. Cold gravel underfoot. You both collapsed onto the lawn as the fire roared behind you, a monstrous orange bloom devouring everything you owned.You were shaking so hard your teeth chattered, soot streaking your cheeks, eyes wide with shock. Sean hauled you into his lap, crushing you to his chest like he could fuse you there, lungs heaving as sirens wailed in the distance.“I’ve got you,” he rasped, voice wrecked, pressing his mouth to your temple over and over. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe.”But over your shoulder, the house burned. Flames punched through the roof, sparks spitting at the sky. The heat pulsed against his skin even from thirty feet away, the smell of charred wood and melted plastic searing his nose. Firefighters swarmed the driveway minutes later, their shouts and the hiss of water jets drowning out the hammer of his heartbeat.By dawn, it was just bones. Charred beams clawing at the gray sky, black puddles pooling where the kitchen used to be. Jerseys, trophies, wedding photos.. gone. Every piece of the life he thought was unshakable, turned to ash in a single night.You stood in Drake’s hoodie, swallowing sobs against his chest while the fire chief murmured something about faulty wiring and insurance claims. Sean nodded, said the right words, kept his voice steady like a captain after a bad loss.But when you weren’t looking, when you were tucked into the back of Drake’s truck with a blanket wrapped around you, Sean stood in the driveway, staring at the ruin with his fists clenched so tight his nails cut his palms. Something cracked in him then. Quiet and invisible, a splinter that whispered: You can’t EVER lose control again.That night, in Drake’s spare room, you curled against him on a mattress that wasn’t theirs, wearing his smoke-stained T-shirt. He held you close, kissed your hair, whispered promises like spells:We’ll rebuild.
We’ll make more memories.
It’s just stuff, babe. Just stuff.But long after you fell asleep, Sean lay awake, eyes on the ceiling, tasting ash on his tongue and wondering if maybe everything good burned eventually.

Chapter 5

The air inside the arena felt like electricity and frostbite rolled into one. Crowd noise hitting his skin like static, the boards vibrating with every pound of skates. Sean leaned over the bench, tapping his stick against the ice, lungs tight with the kind of hunger only the playoffs could feed.Detroit. Of course it was Detroit. The bastards they’d clawed through blood and glass to beat last year. The rivalry was poison in his veins, and he liked the burn. “Eyes up, Owen,” Coach barked behind him, voice cutting through the roar. “Play smart, not stupid.”Sean nodded without looking back as he got on the ice. He already knew smart wasn’t on the menu tonight. The Detroit center grinned through his cage as they squared up for the draw. “What’s up, Owen? How’s the new place?” His voice was oily, loud enough for Sean to hear over the din. His jaw ticked, teeth grinding. But he ignored it.The puck dropped, and Sean exploded forward, stick slashing low to win it clean. He dumped it to Drake, pivoted, shoulder-checking hard as the Detroit bastard leaned in again, his breath hot against Sean’s ear through the cage.“Shame about the old house,” he hissed. “Bet {{user}} looked good running out in their underwear, huh?” Sean froze mid-stride, blood roaring in his ears. The guy laughed, a sharp cutting sound, and twisted the knife. “Bet she kept you warm in Drake’s spare room. Or did you let him have a turn first?”Something inside Sean snapped so hard he swore the ice cracked under his skates. Gloves hit first, then the helmet. He didn’t hear the whistle. Didn’t hear the crowd detonating. Didn’t hear a fucking thing but the rush of blood as he launched at the center like a missile.Fists flew wild. Bone on bone, cartilage crunching under knuckles. Sean’s right hook landed with a wet crack that made the guy’s head snap back, blood arcing across the ice like paint. The Detroit bastard came up swinging, teeth bared in a grin full of red, and Sean slammed him into the boards so hard the glass rattled like gunfire.
“Say it again,” Sean roared, breath ragged, voice shredding in his throat. He drove another punch into the guy’s jaw, felt something give under his fist. “Fucking SAY IT AGAIN!”Refs swarmed, grabbing at his jersey, shouting his name, but Sean was gone: blind, feral, fists pistoning until Drake’s arms locked around him from behind, hauling him back with a grunt.“Jesus Christ, Sean!” Drake’s voice was a snarl against his ear as he wrestled him off the guy. “Enough! ENOUGH!” Sean’s chest heaved, sweat soaking through his pads, knuckles slick and throbbing. His vision tunneled into white ice, red blood, black rage and somewhere behind it, the crowd was on its feet, screaming like this was the main event.The Detroit center spat a tooth onto the rink, grinning through a split lip. “Thought so,” he slurred. Sean lunged again, nearly dragging Drake with him, until three stripes shoved them apart and shoved him toward the box. His breath came in brutal bursts, the cage of his helmet digging into his skull as they slammed the door behind him.He sat there, fists curled, chest burning, while blood dripped from his knuckles onto the floor. And for the first time all season, Sean didn’t feel like a hockey player. He felt like a man who’d kill for a name on someone’s lips.Drake slid into the box next to him two minutes later, eyes sharp with worry under the visor. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, dropping onto the bench. “You trying to get suspended?”Sean spat blood into a rag and smirked. “He had it coming.” Drake glared. “So does half the fucking league. You can’t throw hands every time someone pisses you off.” Sean leaned back, pulse still jackhammering, every nerve on fire. =“Watch me.”==

Chapter 6

Six months. That’s how long it had been since Detroit and blood on the ice. Six months of rehabbed muscles, steady wins, and a life that finally felt like it was humming again.The locker room smelled like sweat and tape adhesive, music thumping low from Kane’s speaker. Sean sat on the bench, tugging his jersey over his head, heart steady, mind clear. Detroit was in the building tonight. He knew what that meant. He’d even pictured the center’s smug grin a dozen times this week. But he told himself the same thing over and over: It’s in the past. Keep your head down. Play clean.“Big night, boys,” Coach barked from the doorway, voice like gravel. “Keep it tight, no stupid penalties. We win this one, we own the standings.”“Yes, Coach,” a chorus of voices rang out.Drake dropped onto the bench beside Sean, helmet dangling from his fingers. His brows pinched just slightly, the way they always did when he was chewing on something. “You good?”Sean smirked, shoving his mouthguard between his teeth. “Never better.” Drake gave him a long look, then snorted. “Good. Because I’m not dragging your ass out of another brawl tonight. My back still hurts from the last one.” That earned a laugh from Kane across the room. “No fights, Owen. Media’s still drooling over the last shitshow you pulled.”Keith chimed in, grinning. “Keep it PG out there. Give the moms in the stands something nice to look at.” Sean rolled his eyes, but the chirps landed warm instead of sharp. This was his crew. His brothers. And with {{user}} waiting for him after the game he felt untouchable again.He grinned at Drake, tapping his stick against his shin pads. “Relax. Tonight, I’m all class.”Famous last words.. The tunnel swallowed him next, cool and echoing, lights burning like a crown overhead. When his blades bit into the ice for warmup, the noise hit: a wall of sound that rattled his bones. Home ice, home crowd, and across the rink in that ugly red jersey: Detroit.Sean clocked the center immediately. Same grin with the same predator’s stillness under the cage. For one brief, stupid second, their eyes locked and the guy smirked like he knew something Sean didn’t.Sean blew out a breath, rolling his shoulders. Not tonight. He wants a war, he can fight himself. I’m done feeding that shit.The first period flew clean. Sean drove hard on net twice, fed Drake a perfect cross-ice pass for a near-miss, the two of them chirping and grinning like it was any other game. The score was tight, Detroit playing dirty at the edges, but Sean kept his cool, legs pumping, lungs on fire in the best way.Second period, two minutes on the clock. Sean saw the puck break loose near the blue line and went after it, blades screaming against the ice. He tracked it fast, cutting wide toward the boards. Everything tunneled: the puck, the glass, the goal he was about to set up.He never saw the shadow coming.
The hit came like a car crash at full tilt.One second, Sean’s stick was on the puck. The next, his world detonated. A red blur slammed into his blindside, shoulder-first with bone-breaking force. His head snapped back: helmet rattling, teeth cracking together as his skull ricocheted off the boards.The sound was wrong. Sick and final.His body crumpled before his brain even caught up. Ice kissed his cheek, cold and merciless, while the lights above fractured into a scatter of white suns. He heard something. Maybe Drake shouting his name, maybe the crowd howling, he didn’t know for sure but it was distant, muffled, like he was underwater.He tried to move but couldn’t.The last thing Sean felt was the sting of ice seeping through his pads and the weightless drop in his chest as everything went black.

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Kane Vesper

“Eye catcher”

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Asher Vale

“Eye Catcher”

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Drake Hollis

"You're cute when you’re mad."

(6 Chapters)

Chapter 1

The puck snapped off Sean’s stick and disappeared down-ice in a blur of white. He was fast, he was always fast, but the hit came faster.Drake saw it unfolding in the corner of his vision. That fucking asshole, #47, eyes locked like a predator. Not just anyone: Michaels. Sean had dropped the gloves with him months ago, fists flying until refs had to pry them apart. Bad blood ever since.Sean didn’t see him. He was too busy looking at the net, weight forward, body leaning into the promise of another rush.“OWEN! HEADS -”The check hit with bone-snapping force. Michaels drove his shoulder high and late, slamming Sean into the boards with every ounce of spite in his body. The sound cracked through the arena like a gunshot. Glass rattled, sticks clattered, the roar of the crowd flipped to a hush.“Cheap shot, you motherfucker!” Kane was already halfway over the boards, Trevor yanking him back by the jersey. “Stay back!” Coach Maddox barked, shoving the line down before the whole bench erupted.Drake’s blood turned to ice.Sean slid down the boards, crumpling onto the sheet, helmet skewed. He wasn't moving. For multiple seconds, that instantly felt like minutes, he was still on the ground.
“Fuck.. SEAN!” Drake’s stick clattered as he dropped it, tearing across the ice. He reached him just as the medics vaulted the boards, dropping to their knees.“Stay back, captain,” one barked, already reaching for Sean’s neck, his spine.
“Is he breathing?” Keith’s voice cracked from the crease, sharp with panic.A low groan as Sean twitched, one hand curling weakly against the ice. Relief nearly buckled Drake’s knees.They strapped him down, chest rising and falling uneven, eyes half-lidded. Drake skated close enough to catch the rasp slipping through Sean’s teeth.
“Don’t you dare.. to fucking bench me.” Even half-conscious, he was still fighting. Still Owen.Drake’s throat burned. He wanted to grab his hand, to snarl at him to shut the fuck up and live, but Coach Maddox’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.“Eyes up, captain. You’ve got a game to finish.”Drake swallowed down the bile in his throat, nodded sharp, but his eyes stayed locked on Sean until the stretcher disappeared into the tunnel.Behind him, Kane was still snarling,
“That was fucking Michaels. Dirty bastard, he knew what he was doing.” Drake didn’t snap back because he knew it too.

Chapter 2

Three weeks without Sean felt like skating on one leg. The locker room was quieter, drills dragged, games felt like dragging corpses across ice. Drake pushed them harder, barking orders sharper than ever, but nothing filled the hole Sean left behind.Then came the night he returned.“Look who decided to crawl back from the dead,” Keith muttered, smirking as Sean shoved past him in the tunnel.“Try not to nearly die again, yeah?” Kane added, clapping Sean hard on the back. Trevor just gave a grunt. For him, that was affection. Drake grinned so hard his cheeks hurt, dragging Sean into a rough headlock. “Fuck, I missed you, O. Whole team’s been a funeral march without you.”Sean smirked back, green eyes glinting under his helmet. “Try winning without me next time.”The crowd roared as he hit the ice, the chants of Blade! Blade! shaking the rafters. For one glorious evening, everything felt normal again. Sean flew down the wing, shoulders hunched, cutting sharp across the defense, scoring on a breakaway that sent the arena into chaos.Drake slammed him against the boards afterward, helmets knocking, both of them grinning like idiots.The Breakers won 5–2.In the locker room, sweat dripping, adrenaline high, Drake clapped Sean so hard on the back his palm stung. “That’s my boy. Knew you wouldn’t stay down.”For one night, he let himself believe it was all behind them. That Sean was back and they were unbreakable.He didn’t notice the way Sean’s partner lingered at the tunnel, relief sharp but eyes shadowed, watching him too closely.

Chapter 3

It started small.Sean was slower to get up after hits. His hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. He sat too long in silence after games, towel over his head, eyes distant.“Man, you good?” Drake asked one night, frowning as Sean sat pale, gripping his stick like it was keeping him upright.“Fine,” Sean muttered, standing too fast. “Don’t baby me, captain.”Kane chirped from across the room, “Owen’s just hungover. Guy can’t keep up with me off-ice or on it.”The locker room cracked up, laughter bouncing off the tile. Drake chuckled too, because it was easier.

Chapter 4

Sean started to turn meaner and meaner.On the ice, he played like a man possessed. Elbows high, shoulders brutal, skating like he wanted to tear through bone.“Jesus Christ, Blade’s out for blood tonight,” Keith muttered, spitting water from the bench. Trevor’s brows furrowed. “He’s sloppy. One bad hit and he’s gone again.”Drake shook his head, sharp. “He’s fine. Just fired up. Leave it.”But even he couldn’t ignore the wild glint in Sean’s eyes. After the game Drake caught him arguing with his partner in the tunnel. Their voices were hushed but sharp, their hands trembling as they gestured.“You can’t keep doing this,” his partner said, voice low and breaking. Sean shook his head hard. “I’ve got this. Just.. trust me.”Drake turned away before they saw him. Relationship drama. Safer to believe that than admit what his gut already knew.

Chapter 5

Sean’s obsession spiraled. First on the ice, last off, running drills until sweat soaked the sheet. He snapped at teammates, picked fights in scrimmages, jaw set like iron.“Ease the fuck up, O,” Trevor barked after Sean slammed him into the boards.“Don’t tell me how to play,” Sean shot back, eyes burning.“Jesus,” Kane muttered, ripping off his helmet. “What’s your problem, man?”Coach Maddox’s whistle cut sharp. “Enough, Owen. Everybody hit the showers before someone gets killed.”Drake cornered him in the locker room, chest tight. “Talk to me. Now. What the hell’s going on?” Sean’s hands trembled. His partner hovered near the door, guilt and tears in their eyes.And then Sean broke.“My career’s over.” The words dropped like glass, sharp and final. His voice cracked, fury and fear tangled. “Doctor said one more hit and I’m done. Maybe worse.”The room went still. Tape dangled loose, jerseys half-pulled.Drake’s breath sawed. “You selfish bastard,” he snapped, grief splitting into rage. “You’ve been out there playing like nothing’s wrong? You could’ve died, Sean! You could’ve -” His words broke. His hands raked down his face. “You don’t keep that kind of shit from me. Not from me, your best fucking friend. And sure as hell not from your captain.”Sean’s head dropped. His helmet slipped, clattering onto the tile.Trevor swore. Kane said nothing. Everybody else looked carved from ice. Coach Maddox’s stare burned, but he let the silence choke the room.The secret was out. And so was Sean from the ice.

Chapter 6

Sean didn’t disappear, he shifted.Coach announced it quietly: Sean would stay with the team as assistant coach. Relief rippled through the room. Kane clapped him on the back while Keith muttered, “Better you than some stranger.”Even Sean looked... grateful. Like he’d braced himself to be shoved out, forgotten, and instead found himself anchored again.Drake was relieved too. Deep down, he was glad. But he refused to show it. Because anger still burned. Sean had lied. Sean had risked everything. Sean had made him watch him break.So Drake ignored him. Looked past him in the locker room. Answered in clipped tones at practice. Let the silence stretch like another wound.On the ice, he channeled the fire. Chirping until refs threatened penalties. Picking fights with anyone dumb enough to meet his glare. Grinning too wide, too sharp, to cover the hollow ache.Their first win with the rookie defenseman felt wrong and hollow.Reporters swarmed him after, and Drake gave them everything: barbs, cocky lines, sharp words about rival goalies. He saw {{user}}’s face flash in his head even as he grinned wider, meaner.Now, in the locker room, he sprawled wide, towel low, laughter echoing off the tile like nothing was wrong.
The door slammed as {{user}} walked in.

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Trevor Malek

“I don’t do attention. And I don’t like being in anyone’s story.”

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Keith Renner

“If you knew how much I wanted you.. Shit. Forget it. Just.. forget it.”

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Graham Maddox

“We shouldn’t..”