Chapter 60 Chapter 60

Chapter 60 Chapter 60
  The game was though, everyone was on edge as the two brothers took the game to heart.
  The rink was loud long before the first puck dropped.
  Cass sat between Lena and a girl she barely knew from math class, hands clenched in her lap, heart thudding like it wanted out. The air smelled like ice and metal and adrenaline. Hockey jackets crowded the bleachers, colors clashing, voices rising and falling in waves.
  Down on the ice, Marvin skated like he owned the world. Chin lifted. Smirk intact. He didn’t look at Cass. He didn’t need to. His presence alone felt like a warning.
  Jace was different.
  He skated quietly, controlled, every movement precise. No showboating. No unnecessary flair. Just focus. When he adjusted his gloves, Cass noticed how steady his hands were. Too steady for someone about to face his own brother.
  The whistle blew.
  The game exploded into motion.
  From the first face off, it was clear this wasn’t friendly. Sticks clashed hard. Skates cut deep into the ice. The puck flew from side to side so fast Cass’s eyes struggled to keep up.
  Marvin struck first.
  He stole the puck near center ice, weaving through defenders with aggressive confidence, then fired a clean shot past the goalie. The crowd erupted. His teammates slammed into him, shouting, hyped, wild.
  Marvin raised his stick and turned toward the stands.
  Toward Cass.
  He winked.
  Lena swore loudly. “I hate him.”
  Cass didn’t respond. Her chest felt tight, breath shallow. She told herself it was just a game. Just noise. Just Marvin being Marvin.
  But then Jace took the puck.
  It wasn’t dramatic at first. No immediate rush. He carried it calmly, reading the ice, waiting. When Marvin charged toward him, expecting a clash, Jace passed at the last second, clean and unexpected, opening a perfect lane.
  Goal.
  The sound in the rink shifted. Not louder. Heavier.
  Jace didn’t celebrate. He skated back to position like it meant nothing.
  Marvin stared at him.
  The next period was brutal.
  Bodies slammed into the boards. A player went down hard and had to be helped off the ice. The referee shouted warnings that went ignored. This wasn’t just competition anymore. It was personal.
  Marvin checked Jace hard near the glass.
  Cass jumped to her feet. “That was dirty!”
  The whistle blew. Penalty.
  Marvin laughed as he skated to the box, blowing a kiss toward his section of fans. Jacinta cheered too loudly, like she was trying to convince herself everything was fine.
  Jace didn’t look at him. He just breathed. In. Out.
  Power play.
  This time, Jace took control.
  He moved faster than before, sharper, cutting through defense like he’d been holding back all along. When he scored, it was clean and undeniable. No luck. No accident.
  The rink fell into stunned silence.
  Then it erupted.
  Cass’s hands were shaking as she clapped. Lena screamed Jace’s name without shame.
  Marvin slammed his stick against the penalty box when the door opened.
  By the final period, the score was tied.
  Everyone knew the next goal would decide it.
  The puck dropped. Chaos followed.
  Marvin and Jace collided near the boards, sticks tangling, shoulders hitting hard. For a split second, they were just brothers again. Angry. Familiar. Broken in ways no one else could see.
  Marvin hissed, “You think you’re better than me now?”
  Jace met his eyes. “I don’t think about you.”
  That was the crack.
  Marvin shoved him. The referee yelled. The crowd roared.
  Jace broke free, chasing the puck as it slid loose. He skated like something had finally snapped inside him. Like all the restraint, all the silence, had burned away.
  He shot.
  The puck hit the post.
  Bounced.
  And slid past the goalie.
  Goal.
  For a heartbeat, no one moved.
  Then the arena exploded.
  Cass felt tears sting her eyes, shock and awe colliding in her chest. Lena grabbed her and screamed, jumping up and down.
  On the ice, Jace stood still, chest heaving, eyes locked on Marvin.
  Marvin looked wrecked.
  The final whistle blew.
  Jace’s team won.
  The handshake line was tense. Marvin barely touched Jace’s glove as he passed him, jaw clenched, eyes wild. He ripped his helmet off the second he reached the bench and slammed it down.
  In the stands, people whispered. Not about Marvin.
  About Jace.
  At home that night, the house shattered.
  Voices rose. Doors slammed. Their father shouted until his voice broke. Marvin threw something that crashed against the wall. Jace stood there, silent, refusing to apologize.
  “I’m done covering for you,” Jace said calmly.
  Marvin laughed, unhinged. “You think one game makes you a hero?”
  “No,” Jace replied. “But it showed everyone who you really are.”
  Marvin lunged.
  Their father stepped in just in time.
  Across town, Cass lay awake in bed, replaying the game over and over. The way Jace had skated. The way he’d looked unafraid. The way he’d chosen action instead of silence.
  Her phone buzzed.
  A message from an unknown number popped up.
  You looked proud tonight.
  She knew who it was without asking.
  Cass stared at the screen for a long moment, heart pounding.
  Then she typed back.
  I was.
  And for the first time in a long while, the chaos didn’t feel like it was swallowing her whole.
  It felt like something was finally fighting back.