Chapter 13: CHAPTER 13
Julian POV
Success is a slow-motion car crash.
I woke up at 6:00 AM, the sunlight hitting my face like a slap. My first instinct was to check the phone, and my second instinct was to smash it against the wall. It was blowing up. Texts from my father, texts from Riley, and a dozen Google notifications for "Northwood Hockey."
They weren't about me.
Every headline was about "The Miller Explosion" and "The Rookie Force." There was a picture of Jax on the front page of the sports section, sweat in his hair, roaring at the crowd. He looked like a king. He looked like the man I was supposed to be.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. The nausea was already a familiar friend. I didn't hate Jax for being good. That was the stupidest part. I hated that his success made the cage I was in even tighter. He had proven his worth to the world. And now, the world was going to be watching the two of us, waiting to see if I could keep up.
I heard his door open. The quiet thud of his bare feet on the living room rug. I sat still, barely breathing. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to see the "real" person, because that was the person who’d held me in the dark. I wanted the "Ice King" to come back and save me from the fact that I was already failing.
I crept to the door and listened. He was in the kitchen. I could hear the clink of a mug and the pour of coffee.
Why was I hiding in my own suite? Why was I terrified of a foster kid from Detroit who drank milk from the carton? Because he was the only one who didn't look at my last name. He looked at me. He saw that I was tired. He saw that I was sad. He saw the person under the navy suit, and instead of telling me to get it together, he just let me sit with him.
Do I have feelings for him? The thought made my breath hitch. No. No, it was just proximity. It was just trauma-bonding over the mountain trip. It was just physical tension because I haven't been with anyone in ages.
But then I remembered the way his hand had felt on my neck. Rough, warm, and sure. It wasn't a performance. It wasn't about a brand. It was about us.
If I let myself feel that, if I let myself admit that the "Ice King" act was a cage, then I was already a ghost. I’d be erasing the last twenty-two years. My father would disown me. Riley would destroy me in the alumni magazine. I would be a failure.
I shoved myself off the bed and started getting dressed. I picked out a perfectly tailored shirt, an expensive sweater, and my polished boots. Every item was a layer of armor. I put them on, watching the mirror as the sad, tired man vanished and the Thorne heir returned.
I am the Captain. I am disciplined. I am the future.
But when I passed the door to the kitchen, I didn't see the "Rookie Force" or the "charity case." I saw Jax, sitting at the breakfast bar, looking at a photo of his own face on his phone with a weird, complicated expression. He looked lonely. He looked like a man who just realized that success was just a bigger prison.
And for a second, I didn't want the Ice King to save me. I wanted to sit with him and be lonely together.
I walked into the kitchen, my boots sounding too loud on the floor.
"Morning," Jax said, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, sending a jolt of heat straight to my stomach. Ignore it. Ignore the heat.
"Coffee still fresh?" I asked, my voice tight.
"Fresh enough." He slid the mug toward me. His hand was a foot from mine. The memory of the equipment room hit me like a physical blow. The way he had ground his hips into me. The fierce beauty of it. The way I had whimpered into the kiss.
I am not supposed to want this. I told myself. This is a liability.
I poured my coffee, my hand shaking just enough that the spoon clattered against the ceramic. The noise felt like a shotgun blast in the silence.
"You played well, Thorne," Jax said, finally looking up. His eyes were wide and open. He wasn't testing me. He wasn't being a brat. He was just a guy. "They’re talking about your penalty kills in the third. How you controlled the blue line."
He was complementing me. He was giving me an out. I could have taken it. I could have said "Thanks, Miller" and walked out. But I was tired. I was so tired of lying.
"It doesn't matter," I muttered, staring into the dark coffee.
"What?"
"My father is coming to campus today. He’s already seen the stats. He’s seen your face on the front page. And now, I have to go to the rink and listen to him talk about how I can 'improve' my focus."
I looked at Jax, my eyes pleading. "He’s going to make me pay for your success, Jax. Every point you get is a debt I have to pay."
The silence that followed was heavy. I saw the look on his face shift from admiration to pity, then back to that weird, protective stillness I’d seen in the tent. He reached out with one hand, resting it on top of my forearm.
His skin was burning. "He can't touch you, Julian. Not if you don't let him."
"You don't understand," I whispered, leaning into his touch. I was falling apart in my five-thousand-dollar armor. I was a Thorne, and I was begging a foster kid to save me from my own life.
The elevator chimed outside our door. Jax’s hand vanished from my arm. He slid off the stool and walked back to the counter, grabbing the pizza box. We were strangers again in less than a second.
The keycard clicked, and the door opened. Riley walked in, wearing a silk scarf and a coat that cost more than a small country. She looked perfect. She looked like a Thorne. She smelled like floral perfume and expensive ambition.
"Victory Celebration!" she chirped, carrying a box of cupcakes that were too big and too frosted. "Good morning, heroes! Your father is already at the rink, Julian. He’s meeting with the Board. But he wanted me to drop these off."
She walked toward me, her eyes tracking the way my clothes fit. She kissed me. It was a long kiss. A public kiss. I didn't pull away, but I felt like I was made of stone. Every cell in my body was still buzzing from Jax’s touch on my arm, and now Riley was pressing herself against me, trying to erase him.
"You look tired, honey," she said, pulling back to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Are you getting enough focus with... the situation in the suite?" She turned her smile toward Jax, and I saw the scheming logic again. Polite, polished, and full of venom.
"Jax played a hell of a game, Riley," I said, my voice crackling. I didn't look at him. I couldn't.
"Oh, I know!" she said. "The Board is thrilled. They’re already talking about his endorsements. But your father is concerned about your leadership, Julian. He thinks that when one player gets too much attention, the team loses its proper standing. He expects you to maintain the proper order."
She handed me a cupcake. It was covered in blue and gold frosting, and it tasted like sugar and fake happiness. I ate it, watching Jax watch me. He was just leaning against the counter, eating a piece of cold pizza, looking at me with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"I’m the Captain," I said, my voice flattening out. I looked back at Riley, at the beautiful, perfect life she was offering me, and I felt a wave of nausea so strong I thought I might pass out. "I will maintain order."
Jax dropped the pizza box into the trash can. The sound was too loud in the suite.