Break My Heart: An Enemies-to-Lovers Coach’s Daughter Sports Romance (Western Wildcats Hockey)
Break My Heart: Chapter 5

At this hour in the morning, the rink is deserted. The hum of the Zamboni has long since faded, leaving behind a flawless, glass-like surface. Fresh ice, untouched and perfect.

Is there anything better?

I draw in a deep breath and hold it captive, savoring the chilly air that fills my lungs. For just a moment, I allow the tension in my body to melt away before exhaling. And then my blades are carving a steady rhythm as I ease into my warmup. Each glide sends a satisfying hiss through the silent arena as my breath comes out in little clouds before dissipating in the chilled air.

I move into some crossovers, feeling the familiar burn in my thighs as I pick up speed. Everything from the past year that normally eats away at me fades to the background, leaving nothingness in its place.

Once warmed up, I glide to the center of the ice and take my starting position. With my knees slightly bent and arms poised, I focus on the music in my head. It’s a piece I’ve practiced more than a thousand times. I visualize each note, each synchronized movement, then I begin.

The first few moves are smooth and flowing, a series of elegant spirals that show off both my control and grace. I transition into a camel spin, extending my free leg behind me and holding my position steady as the centrifugal force pulls at my body. Only then do I exit the spin with a flick of my toe pick and push into a series of intricate footwork.

My focus narrows as I approach a triple lutz. I dig my toe pick into the ice and launch myself into the air, rotating quickly. My heart stutters as my blades touch down in a perfect landing.

Even after everything that happened, it’s one thing that never fails to send satisfaction flooding through me.

After that, I flow into a sit spin, dropping low and holding the position, as the burn in my legs intensifies. From there, I transition into a flying camel, launching into the air and rotating into the spin mid-flight. The rush of the wind against my face is exhilarating, and confidence surges through me as I nail the landing.

The routine builds to its climax, and I push harder, faster before executing a sequence of jumps—an axel, a loop, and finally a salchow. Each one pushes me to my limits. My body is in perfect sync with the rhythm in my mind, each movement precise and deliberate.

For a second, my old coach’s voice creeps into my mind.

“Bend your knees!”

“You’re skating too stiff!”

I crush it before it takes hold, refocusing on the final spin, feeling the stretch, the release as I come to a graceful stop. It’s only when I slow that I realize my chest is heaving. My breath comes out in small clouds before evaporating in the frigid air. Contentment floods through me. In this moment, I feel lighter, like I’ve finally found the missing piece of myself.

That fragile peace is shattered as slow clapping echoes through the rink.

My eyes snap open, and ice floods my veins.

For a terrifying second, I think it’s him.

That he’s found me.

My eyes lock on green ones, and a potent concoction of relief tinged with irritation rushes through me.

Hayes Van Doren loiters near the benches, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he takes a swig of coffee.

Our last run-in flashes through my mind. The flutter at the bottom of my belly is a shock to my system.

I haven’t felt anything like that since⁠—

I slam the door on that thought and harden my stance.

There’s no way I’m interested in this guy.

Not even a little.

His manwhore reputation is legendary.

He’s exactly the type of guy my dad would lose his mind over if I got anywhere near. Which makes him even more dangerous. Add to that the wreckage of my past, and I’m no longer the girl who can afford a distraction.

When I remain silent, his lips lift into a crooked smile as he raises one hand in a wave before raising the container he’s holding in the other to his mouth and taking a swallow.

I continue to glare, hoping my prickly demeanor will send him scurrying. It’s become a defense mechanism. Even as that thought rolls through my brain, I realize it’s an unlikely scenario.

This guy is much too cocksure of himself.

When he doesn’t take the hint that I’m not interested in striking up a conversation or anything else he might have in mind, I skate toward him, every movement deliberate, eating up the distance between us until I stop in front of him.

That’s when I realize he’s not sipping on his own coffee.

He’s enjoying mine.

Seriously?

My brows snap together.

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

Still breathing hard from my workout, I plant my hands on my hips and scowl.

The smartest thing I can do is shut down whatever this is before it spirals any further out of control.

A little voice inside my head wonders if it’s already too late for that.

“Have you come to ask me to fall to my knees so you can…” I pause, as if trying to jog my memory, then continue, “How did you oh so charmingly put it? Stuff my mouth full of cock?”

A grin moves across his face as his eyes twinkle with humor. He doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Thought you were someone else.”

I roll my eyes at the explanation. “That doesn’t make it better.”

His tongue slides over the front of his teeth as he shrugs. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

My pulse trips as silence thickens the air between us. I hold myself steady, refusing to let him see just how much he gets under my skin.

“So… you’re Coach’s daughter, huh?”

I lift a brow. “I’m pretty sure we established that already.”

“I didn’t even know he had a kid,” he muses, eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place.

“Color me surprised. Is that because you’re too wrapped up in your groupies to notice?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

His grin widens. “Ahhh, so you know who I am.”

I bristle, realizing I’ve given him exactly what he wanted—the upper hand in this conversation.

“Stop drinking my coffee,” I snap, spinning away and skating back toward the center of the ice.

“See you around, Tink.” His low and amused chuckle follows me as the sound vibrates through the empty arena and settles somewhere deep in my core. I refuse to turn around, even as I feel the tug of it.

The last thing I need is to encourage him.

After a few silent minutes, curiosity wins out, and I peek over my shoulder, only to replace the benches empty.

I should be relieved.

Instead, disappointment bubbles up inside me, unwanted and annoying.

I force myself to skate through my routine two more times, trying to lose myself in the movement, but it’s useless.

His easy grin keeps popping into my head.

As soon as exhaustion sets in, I skate back to the benches and reach for my coffee, only to replace the container empty.

Grrr.