I never thought a line change could feel like a death sentence. Paired with Rhys Callahan—the golden boy of the NHL, all sunshine and easy grins—I should’ve felt lucky. But there’s something behind his smile, in the way he flinches at sudden noise, how his laughter never reaches his eyes. And me? I’m the opposite—silent, inked, dragging my ghosts through every shift. We’re fire and ice, and yet… when we’re alone on the ice, hearts pounding, breath fogging the air between us, I feel something shift. Something dangerous. This isn’t just about winning games anymore. It’s about surviving each other—and what we’re starting to feel.