Breaking the Ice

Brynn’s POV

Gwen pushed her chair back from the polished mahogany desk and stood up, her tone shifting from the sharp edge of a corporate negotiator to the welcoming warmth of a team manager. "The team is probably done with their practice now. Do you want to meet them?"

I swallowed the fresh wave of anxiety threatening to wash away my newfound confidence. This moment was inevitable. Earning that massive paycheck meant diving headfirst into the fire, and I had to face the roster eventually.

I took a steadying breath and nodded. "If that would be alright, I am ready."

"Of course. They will be under your care from now on." Gwen smiled warmly, leading the way out of the administrative office.

I followed her down the wide, rubber-matted hallway leading straight toward the main arena. The booming sound of skates slicing through fresh ice and loud bursts of laughter echoed against the concrete walls. My pulse quickened with every step. Excitement tangled fiercely with my nerves.

I already possessed a terrifying amount of knowledge about this team. My cheating ex, Declan, had obsessed over this roster for years before finally securing his own spot. He talked about them nonstop during our time together. I knew their specific playing positions, their historical injuries, and even their bizarre habits on and off the ice. Surviving him left me with intense baggage, but passing that knowledge into this job gave me an undeniable advantage.

The blast of cold air hit my face the second we stepped into the rink. The massive space was brightly lit, and the players were already winding down their heavy practice session. They were pulling off their helmets and loosening their bulky neck guards. Sweat-damp hair, flushed skin, and easy camaraderie dominated the space. It looked like a high-budget scene ripped straight out of a sports romance movie.

I trailed a few steps behind Gwen as a dozen enormous men greeted her with booming, enthusiastic voices.

Despite the overwhelming visual overload of world-class athletes, my gaze honed in on a single figure. The first person who forcefully captured my attention was Kaelen.

He sat at the far end of the extended wooden bench, isolated by a gap of empty space that no one dared to cross. His head was tilted down, dark hair shadowing his eyes as he took a slow drink from his water bottle. His focus remained ruthlessly fixed on the scuffed surface of the ice. That same dark, undeniable charisma I experienced earlier clung to him like a second skin.

There was no shortage of eye candy on this team. Every single player boasted athletic, unfairly attractive features. But Kaelen stood out in a way that literally seized the oxygen in my lungs. It went beyond his striking bone structure. It was the heavy, suffocating gravity he projected just by existing in the room.

A bright, loud voice shattered my quiet observation. "Gwen, long time no see! I missed you during our vacation."

A blonde-haired guy with flushed pink cheeks glided up to the boards, flashing a playful, weaponized wink.

Gwen waved him off with a look of pure unimpressed exhaustion. "Oh, stop it, Lachlan. You were having the time of your life on the Caribbean beaches. You made me do a lot of extra work after you were seen nearly having an orgy in public. Thanks, by the way. You ruined my vacation."

Lachlan Thorne. Number 16. Goaltender. Certified playboy.

He laughed easily, a deep, raspy sound. "Oh, come on. I really missed the way you scold me. I wish you would do it in bed, too."

My eyes widened in pure shock before I could school my features.

Gwen was older than him by more than a decade, but that detail clearly meant nothing to him. His shameless nature was vast and unapologetic.

It took his wandering eyes another second to finally land on me. He froze mid-step, his goaltender pads shifting with a heavy thud. His gaze dragged slowly up my boots, over my jeans, and settled on my face like he was assessing a shiny new toy worth keeping.

I dipped my head in a polite, professional greeting. "Good day."

A slow, playful smirk spread across his lips, transforming his face into pure trouble. "Well, well, well… who’s this? Did you bring me a gift, Gwen?"

Gwen immediately stepped sideways, pulling me securely behind her protective line of sight. "Don’t even try, Lachlan. She is your new PT."

She leaned slightly over her shoulder, dropping her voice to a low murmur meant only for me. "Do not mind him. He is a flirt, but harmless as long as you refuse to entertain him."

I locked that mental note away and stood taller.

Before I could form a verbal response, Gwen guided me straight toward the center of the bench area. The shift in movement drew the heavy attention of the rest of the exhausted team.

My gaze flickered instinctively back to Kaelen. He did not move a single muscle. He did not even bother to look up at the introduction of fresh blood. My brows knit together in silent frustration at his stone-wall attitude.

Gwen clapped her hands sharply to assert command. "Nice job on your first day back on the ice. That will be your only vacation for a long while, so I hope you made the most of it. Some of you clearly did more than others."

Her eyes slid meaningfully back to Lachlan. The goaltender merely offered another lazy wink in response.

She turned her body to present me to the gathered giants. "Anyway, I am here to introduce your new physical therapist."

I stepped forward, forcing a steady, practiced smile onto my face despite the crushing weight of multiple gazes assessing my every move. "Nice to meet you, everyone. I am Brynn. From now on, I will be under your care as much as you will be under mine. Let us get along well together."

Lachlan matched my greeting with a lazy, drawn-out hum. "Let us get along well. I like the sound of that."

I ignored the bait entirely. Gwen’s advice was already proving essential to surviving this locker room.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward from the pack. He carried a natural, seasoned authority that made the younger players instinctively part ways to give him room.

He extended a taped hand toward me, flashing a friendly, grounded smile. "The name’s Alden. Nice to meet you, Brynn. We are glad to have you on board."

Alden Prescott. Number 9. Captain. Forward. He was an absolute legend in the hockey world. Even at thirty-six years old, he carried himself like a man who owned the ice beneath his skates.

He dropped his hand and gestured loosely to the grouped players. "All members are here except for one. Our newest player, Declan, extended his vacation. He will be back by next week, and I will introduce you then."

I forced my facial muscles to remain perfectly still. I locked down every instinct crying out to sneer at the sound of my cheating ex's name. I plastered on a neutral mask and prayed no one noticed the sudden spike in my heart rate. Declan's temporary absence offered me a brief, desperate reprieve to secure my footing before the inevitable collision.

Alden stripped off his right glove, offering me a bare, calloused hand. I took it firmly, giving a respectful shake.

He let out a short, self-deprecating chuckle. "I might be one of your most loyal customers. This body is not getting any younger. What they say is true. The more you wear, the more you tear."

I released his hand and offered a genuine smile. "No worries. I will do my absolute best to keep you as injury-free as possible."

Lachlan popped his head up over the boards, pouting his lips in exaggerated offense. "Can you do that for me too?"

A small, authentic laugh slipped past my guard. "I will do it for the entire team."

Two unfamiliar voices echoed in perfect, eerie unison from the far left. "The entire team, you say?"

I turned my head and met eyes with two identical faces. They wore the exact same skeptical expression, their arms crossed over their bulky chest pads in mirror images.

The Sinclair twins. Gavin and Gareth. Defensemen. Numbers 5 and 6.

Gavin dropped his arms and tilted his head toward the corner. "It might be difficult for you to treat Kaelen."

That name sparked a fresh rush of adrenaline in my veins.

Gavin continued, his tone turning serious. "He refuses to let anyone touch his shoulder aside from Gabe, even when it is already in a bad state from the tail end of last season."

The entire locker room shifted their collective attention down the bench toward Kaelen.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kaelen exhaled a slow, aggravated breath. He pushed his massive frame off the wooden slats and grabbed his duffel bag, clearly intending to vanish without speaking a single word to me or his team.

But my trained eyes caught the sudden, sharp tightening of his square jaw. I saw the fast, almost invisible grimace of pain flash across his face when he hoisted the strap over his left arm. He was hurting.

My body launched forward before my brain could calculate the risk. Professional instinct hijacked my common sense. I closed the distance and intercepted him just as he pivoted toward the dark exit corridor.

I stepped firmly into his path and raised my hand. My fingers brushed lightly against the tense muscle of his injured shoulder.

"Did you hurt yourself?" I asked gently, applying the faintest trace of diagnostic pressure to the joint.

The reaction was instantaneous and explosive.

Before I could register a threat, Kaelen shoved me backward with a terrifying amount of brute force. The impact against my collarbone knocked the breath straight out of my lungs.

My rubber soles lost traction on the damp matting. The world tilted violently. I stumbled backward, my arms flailing for purchase against gravity.

Strong hands clamped down on my triceps, halting my fall a split second before my skull could crack against the hard surface. Alden dug his heels in and kept me upright.

Kaelen whirled to face me, his massive chest heaving with rapid breaths. His sharp eyes were furious, wild, and lethal. He stared at me like I had committed an unforgivable crime in his sanctuary.

Gwen let out a sharp, panicked shout. "Kaelen!"

Kaelen ignored her entirely, his eyes locked dead on my face as his voice sliced through the cold air. "I told you not to fucking touch me."

His words were cold, cruel, and cutting. It felt like standing in the path of an avalanche.

My initial shock instantly evaporated into searing irritation. I straightened my spine and stepped out of Alden's supportive grip, my breath coming fast.

Alden stepped in front of me, his expression hardening into a stern, fatherly scowl as he glared at the star player. "Kaelen. The season is coming up. We cannot afford to lose you. Let Brynn check your injuries."

Gavin left the boards and joined the captain, his face contorted in deep frustration. "The captain is right. We are always walking on eggshells because of you. It is ruining the vibe and affecting everyone."

Kaelen raised a dark brow. He was utterly unimpressed by the unified front.

His voice dropped into a terrifyingly flat, emotionless register. "So? Should I just leave the team then? Would that fix everything?"

A thick, heavy, and suffocating silence crashed over the rink.

Nobody answered. Nobody dared to breathe, let alone challenge the threat. The silence stretched until it felt like the concrete walls were closing in on us.

A slow, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Kaelen's lips. "That is what I thought."

He turned his back on the frozen room and walked into the dark corridor. He left behind a crushing tension, the faint rhythm of his footsteps echoing into nothing.

The moment his broad shoulders disappeared around the corner, a collective rush of exhaled breath filled the space.

Alden pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a defeated curse. "I thought he had gotten better. Now, it feels like he is much worse."

I watched the empty hallway, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "Did something happen over the break?"

Gareth shrugged his shoulders, a hint of disdain bleeding into his voice. "Probably not. He likely stayed locked up in his fancy penthouse the entire time. He has just always been like that."

I dragged my gaze away from the hallway and stared at the twin. "Like what?"

"A germaphobe."

Gavin nodded grimly to confirm his brother's statement. "A severe, chronic one. He hates strangers touching him. He refuses it entirely. Heck, he will not even let us touch him on a good day."

Gareth let out a dry, humorless breath and stared at the empty ice. "Guess that is why he is untouchable on the ice."