Rhys
"Focus," I muttered as I stood on the ice, forcing my legs to move, but the rhythm wasn't the same as when I started the training that morning.
It was all an effort to get Kayden out of my head. Being close to him was messing with my mind, and even though I was supposed to forget about him, I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. The way I had reacted toward him when he tried speaking to me was bad; I knew I sounded like a jerk, but I had only done that to get him off my back, at least until Game Two was over.
My eyes roamed around, searching for him on the defensive line, but he was nowhere. A while ago, I had watched him rush off the rink, but he had not returned. Seconds passed, turning into minutes, but still, Kayden was nowhere to be found. My gut was twisting—not from the training, but from a low, vibrating instinct that something had gone fundamentally wrong.
