The puck hit the back of the net with eleven seconds left on the clock.

For one second, the Westbridge University ice arena went silent. Then four thousand people lost their minds.

"He did it!" I screamed, phone raised high, my arm shaking so hard the video probably looked like an earthquake. "Tyler! You did it!"

Number 19 skated toward the glass, ripped off his helmet, and pointed straight at me.

Tyler Hayes. My boyfriend of four years. Captain of the Westbridge Wolves. The guy I'd driven to physical therapy at six in the morning for an entire semester after he tore his ACL sophomore year.

And now he was a champion.

"Avery, you're crying," Sophie said, laughing as she tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. Sophie Marsh had been my best friend since freshman orientation, and she never let me get away with anything. "Fix your face. He's going to look at you again."

"I'm not crying."

"You're literally leaking." She dabbed under my eye with her thumb. "Be honest. Have you already picked out wedding invitations?"

"Cream card stock," I said. "Gold lettering."

She snorted. "You're insane."

"He said it, Soph. Freshman year. 'When I win the championship, I'm proposing at center ice.'" I grinned at her. "And I helped him pick the ring. Princess cut. I know it's sitting in his locker right now."

"So the surprise is that there's no surprise."

"The surprise is that it's finally happening."

The team piled onto the ice. Gloves flew. Somebody dumped a water bottle on Coach Brennan's head. I filmed every second of it, because I'd filmed every game for four years. I cut his highlight reels. I knew his stats better than he did.

Then the players headed down the tunnel to the locker room, and the crowd started thinning.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

"Where is he?" I checked my phone. Nothing. "He usually texts me right after."

"Post-game interview, probably." Sophie shrugged. "He's a big deal tonight."

"Okay. I'll just call him—"

A woman's laugh crackled through the arena speakers.

Light. Breathy. Way too close to the mic.

A few people in the stands turned their heads. Somebody near us muttered, "Sound check?"

Then a voice floated out over the whole building, sweet as syrup.

"Tyler, when I kissed you out there on the ice... did you think about Avery at all?"

My thumb froze over the call button.

I knew that voice.

Madison Pryor. The sophomore I'd tutored through statistics. The girl I'd lent my car to. The girl who cried in my dorm room when her ex dumped her, and I sat with her until two in the morning.

Sophie grabbed my wrist. "Avery—"

Tyler laughed. That easy, lazy laugh I used to love.

"Don't ruin the mood by mentioning her."

The arena went dead quiet. Four thousand people, and I could hear the hum of the ice machines.

"So when are you actually breaking up with her?" Madison asked.

"After I sign a pro contract." His voice was clear. Every word. "Her dad knows half the NHL scouts on the East Coast. If I dump her now, I just wasted four years for nothing."

Madison giggled. "She still thinks you're going to propose!"

"Proposing isn't marrying." A rustle, like he was pulling her closer. "I just need to keep her happy for a little while longer."

My blood turned to ice water.

I'd skipped my summer internship at the Globe because he had a tryout camp. I'd iced his knee. I'd memorized his protein schedule. I'd bought his gear when his scholarship didn't cover it.

And I was a ticket. A free ride to the pros.

"That son of a bitch." Sophie was already moving, shoving past a guy in a Wolves jersey. "I'm going down there. I'm going to rip that ring out of his locker and shove it—"

I caught her arm and yanked her back.

"Don't."

"Don't?" She stared at me. "Avery, he just said that in front of the entire school!"

Around us, the stands woke up.

"What a piece of shit!"

"Is that his girlfriend? Oh my God, she's right there."

"Somebody cut the mic!"

A guy behind me booed. A girl two rows down was openly filming my face.

Finally, the speakers gave a sharp pop and went silent.

I didn't move. I didn't cry. I just stood there and felt something inside me go very, very still.

My phone buzzed. Then again. Then it wouldn't stop.

The team group chat. I'd been in it since freshman year, the unofficial team mom. I opened it.

**Jake:** Holy shit, Tyler is DONE

**Marcus:** did Avery hear that??

**Jake:** the whole state of Massachusetts heard that

**Danny:** this asshole literally asked us an hour ago how he should kneel for the proposal

**Marcus:** I feel sick bro

**Jake:** someone check on her

Sophie leaned over my shoulder. "Tell them he's a dead man."

I typed slowly. My fingers were steady. That surprised me more than anything.

**Avery:** Everyone, please pretend you heard nothing.

The chat went quiet.

Sophie read it twice. Then she looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"What are you doing?"

"Exactly what I typed."

"Avery." Her voice dropped. "Please tell me you're not still going to marry him."

I laughed. Actually laughed, right there in the middle of the stands, with strangers pointing their phones at me.

"Of course not."

"Then why—"

"He wants to propose, right?" I tucked my phone against my chest. "So let him propose."

Sophie's mouth opened. Closed. Then slowly curved up at one corner.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, you're scary."

My phone buzzed again. A new message. Not the group chat.

**Tyler:** Baby, wear my favorite white dress tomorrow night. I've got a surprise for you. ❤️

I stared at that little red heart for a long time.

Four years. Every early morning, every ice pack, every highlight reel. All of it for a guy who thought I was too stupid to see him coming.

I typed back two words.

**Avery:** Can't wait.

Then I handed the phone to Sophie.

"Save the audio from tonight," I said. "Every second. Find anyone who recorded it from the stands. I want all of it."

She took the phone like it was a loaded gun. "What are you going to do with it?"

I looked down at the empty rink, at the bright circle painted at center ice where he'd planned to kneel.

"Tomorrow he gets his proposal," I said. "And I'm going to make sure he never forgets it."

My phone rang at 8:07 the next morning.

Tyler. Of course.

I let it ring three times, poured coffee into my mug, and put him on speaker.

"Morning, champ."

"Hey, baby." His voice was too bright. Too fast. "So, uh. Last night. After the game. Did you hear anything... weird?"

I dropped a sugar cube into my coffee. Then another.

"Yeah," I said. "I heard it."

Dead silence on the other end. I could practically hear him sweating.

I stirred slowly. One second. Two.

"Your fans are *terrible* singers, Tyler. Those drunk guys behind the bench? They butchered 'We Are the Champions.' I wanted to throw my shoe at them."

A long, shaky exhale came through the speaker.

Then he laughed. "God, you're cute."

"I know."

"Okay. Okay, good. I'll see you tonight. White dress, right?"

"White dress."

He hung up. I took a sip of coffee and almost sprayed it all over the counter.

Four years. Four years, and I never noticed how *easy* he was.

---

He didn't fully buy it, though. I knew that by ten o'clock, because the team group chat exploded.

**Marcus:** UPDATE. he's at the training center asking about the speakers 💀

**Marcus:** walked right up to Ethan and goes "hey man, was the sound system acting up last night?"

**Jake:** what did Ethan say

**Marcus:** Ethan didn't even look up from his skates. "Yeah, speakers broke. They fixed it though, right?"

**Danny:** ICONIC

**Marcus:** then I go "where'd you disappear to after the game anyway? Coach was looking everywhere for you"

**Jake:** you didn't

**Marcus:** I did. and he puts on this puppy face and says "post-game recovery, bro. had to stretch out my knee"

**Danny:** stretch out his KNEE

**Jake:** I'm gonna punch him. I'm actually gonna punch him

**Marcus:** I almost did. my hand was a fist for like ten minutes

**Danny:** the nerve of this man to come ASK us

I sat on my bed reading it, shoulders shaking, a pillow pressed over my mouth so my roommate wouldn't think I'd lost it.

Sophie texted me separately.

**Sophie:** Are you laughing or crying right now. Be honest.

**Avery:** Laughing.

**Sophie:** Good. Stay that way. I have the audio, plus three angles from the stands. Tonight is going to be beautiful.

---

The celebration started at seven.

Tyler had gone all out. Rose petals lined the rink's edge. A string quartet sat near the penalty box. A photographer with a giant lens hovered by the boards, and a kid from the campus sports channel was setting up a livestream camera on a tripod.

"He booked WBU Sports Live," Sophie whispered beside me. "For a *proposal*."

"He wants it on the internet forever."

"Then he'll get his wish."

I smoothed down the front of my white dress. His favorite. Thin straps, soft fabric, the one he said made me look like "the girl I'm gonna marry."

Then someone grabbed my arm from behind.

"Avery! Oh my God, you look *gorgeous*!"

Madison.

She was wearing my silver gown. The one I'd lent her for spring formal and never gotten back. It fit her a little loose in the chest.

"Thanks," I said. "That dress looks familiar."

She giggled and squeezed my elbow. "You're the best for letting me borrow it. Oh! Speaking of the best..." She leaned in, eyes shining. "Did you bring my birthday present? You promised."

"I did."

I pulled a small box out of my clutch. Pale blue paper, white satin ribbon. I'd wrapped it carefully at two in the morning.

She tore it open right there. Inside sat a thin gold chain with a tiny heart pendant. I'd stopped wearing it junior year. The clasp stuck.

"Avery." Her voice went soft and wobbly. "This is so *you*. I love it."

She threw her arms around my neck. "You're like my big sister, you know that? My actual big sister."

Over her shoulder, I watched Jake, Marcus, and Danny all reach for their water bottles at the exact same moment. Three heads tipped back. Three faces turned red.

Danny started coughing.

"You okay?" Madison asked him.

"Wrong pipe," he wheezed.

Ten minutes before the big moment, Tyler jogged up to me and pressed his phone into my hand.

"Hold this for me, babe? Don't want it falling out on the ice."

"Sure."

He kissed my forehead. His lips were cold. Mine didn't move.

---

The lights dropped at 8:15.

A single spotlight hit center ice. The quartet started playing something slow and sweet. The crowd gasped, then cheered, and a hundred phones went up at once.

Tyler stepped onto the ice holding a bundle of red roses. He wore a custom championship jersey, number 17 instead of his usual 19. The seventeenth. The day we met.

He'd remembered that.

Somehow, that made it worse.

Sophie gave me a little push. "Go. Queen it up."

I walked out onto the carpet they'd rolled across the ice. The spotlight followed me, hot on my bare shoulders.

Tyler sank to one knee. He pulled the box from his jersey and cracked it open. Princess cut. The ring I'd picked out myself.

"Avery Bennett." His voice carried through the whole arena. Same speakers as last night. "Four years ago, you agreed to be my girlfriend. That was the luckiest day of my life." He swallowed, eyes glossy. "Will you marry me?"

Freshman year flashed in front of me. His first win. He'd climbed the glass, jumped into the stands, and spun me around until I was dizzy.

*Every championship I ever win,* he'd said into my hair, *I'm sharing with you.*

How much of that boy had been real?

My eyes stung. I blinked fast.

Tyler saw it and smiled wider, like he'd already won.

"Tyler," I said softly. "If you make it to the NHL someday... will you still love me?"

"Of course, baby." No pause. Not even half a second. "Forever."

Behind him, the giant screen showed my face, twenty feet tall.

I smiled.

"Then ask me again," I said, "after you sign your contract."

The quartet's bow scraped to a stop.

Four thousand people went silent. Again.

Tyler's smile froze on his face like it had been painted there. "What?"

I bent down and kissed his cheek. Gentle. Sweet. The perfect girlfriend.

"You always say your career comes first," I murmured, loud enough for the mic clipped to his jersey. "I don't want a wedding distracting you. Not now. Not when you're this close."

He stared up at me. The ring box trembled in his hand.

Then someone in the stands started clapping.

One person. Then five. Then the whole section near the Wolves bench was on its feet, clapping and whistling. Jake was clapping hardest of all, grinning so wide I thought his face might split.

"That's love!" somebody yelled. "That's real love!"

Tyler had no choice. He stood, closed the ring box, and forced out a laugh.

"She's... she's amazing, right?" he said to the crowd. "Always thinking about me."

The cheers got louder. Every single person who'd heard last night's audio knew exactly why I'd said no.

Tyler was the only one who didn't.

I turned and walked off the ice, my heels sinking into the carpet, his phone still in my hand.

It buzzed against my palm.

I glanced down.

The preview glowed on the lock screen.

**Madison 💋:** Don't worry, handsome. I'd say yes.

I looked up. Across the rink, Madison stood by the boards in my silver dress, my old necklace around her throat, her thumbs still on her phone.

She caught my eye and waved.

I waved back.

Then I slid Tyler's phone into my clutch, right next to mine.

The failed proposal turned Tyler into the world's most attentive boyfriend.

He brought me iced lattes before my eight a.m. class. He texted good-morning hearts. On Wednesday, he showed up at my dorm with two tickets to a Boston Harbormen game.

"Pro hockey," he said, waving them like a magic trick. "You and me. Date night."

I raised an eyebrow. "You hate it when I watch other players."

"That's not true."

"Sophomore year, you sulked for two days because I clapped for a Harbormen goal."

"Because you clapped for *Carter*." His mouth twisted, just for a second. Then he smoothed it out. "But that's old news, babe. I'm a bigger man now."

Ryan Carter. Westbridge's captain before Tyler, one year ahead of him. The guy whose jersey every freshman girl owned. My first semester, a stick had snapped during a practice I was filming, and a jagged piece had come flying at my face. Ryan had stepped in front of it without blinking. Then he'd handed me back my camera and asked if I was okay.

Tyler had never forgiven him for that.

"He just got lucky," Tyler used to say. "Scouts found him a few years early. That's it."

Back then, I'd thought it was normal guy competition.

Now I knew. Tyler didn't respect anyone. He just measured them.

"Sounds fun," I said, and took the tickets.

---

Friday at six, he canceled.

**Tyler:** Coach called extra practice. So sorry baby. Make it up to you ❤️

Two minutes later, Sophie sent a photo. Tyler's black Jeep at a gas station. Madison in the passenger seat, her bare feet on his dashboard.

**Sophie:** Heading north. Pretty sure it's that private rink in Lynnfield.

**Sophie:** Extra practice my ass.

**Avery:** Let them skate.

I'd already promised WBU Sports I'd film the Harbormen's charity exhibition downtown anyway. So I grabbed my camera bag and went alone.

---

Halfway through the second period, a perfume I knew drifted over my shoulder.

"Avery! What a coincidence!"

Madison dropped into the seat beside me. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her lip gloss was smudged at one corner.

"Thought you'd be busy tonight," I said, eyes on my viewfinder.

"I was." She giggled. "Then I came here. Look what I got."

She held up a glossy black card with a gold Harbormen logo. **Scout Exchange — Private Reception. Admit One.**

"Someone *special* gave it to me." She tapped it against her chin. "He said I deserved to meet important people."

I knew that card.

I'd sat at my father's kitchen table in March while he made four phone calls to get it. *For Tyler,* I'd begged. *It'd mean everything to him.*

The last bit of warmth in my chest went out like a match in the rain.

"Wow," I said. "He must really like you."

Madison's smile wobbled. She'd wanted tears. She didn't know what to do with calm.

---

When the final horn sounded, I packed my gear and headed for the staff corridor.

Footsteps pattered behind me.

"Avery, wait! I need to explain something."

"No, you don't."

"Please, it's not what it looks like—"

I kept walking. A hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me around.

Her face had changed. The sweetness was gone.

"You know what your problem is?" she hissed. "You're jealous. I'm younger. I'm prettier. And he's *bored* of you."

I stared at her fingers on my skin.

Then I laughed.

"Madison. Take your hand off me."

I twisted free. Not hard. Barely a flick.

She dropped straight to the floor like someone had cut her strings.

"Ow! *Avery pushed me!*"

Heads turned all down the hallway. A security guard. Two volunteers in orange vests. A dad holding a kid's hand.

And from around the corner, Tyler.

He didn't look at me. Not once. He ran right past and knelt beside her.

"Maddie, are you hurt? Talk to me."

"She shoved me," Madison sobbed into his jacket. "I was just trying to be nice."

Tyler stood up, his face hard. "What the hell is wrong with you, Avery? Why are you bullying her?"

Something cold settled in my stomach. I almost smiled.

"Tyler," I said. "You know this hallway has cameras, right?"

His eyes jumped to the ceiling. The color drained from his cheeks.

Then he squared his shoulders anyway. "Just apologize to her."

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone's watching. Say sorry and we'll talk later."

"I'm not apologizing for something she did to herself."

"Avery—"

Madison lunged up and grabbed my arm again, nails digging in. "Just say it!"

I jerked back.

My heel hit something slick.

The floor sloped down toward the rink's maintenance bay, and the ramp was wet with melted ice. My foot shot out. My camera bag swung wide. The world tilted sideways.

Somewhere close, a heavy engine growled. The ice resurfacer was rolling out of its bay.

"Watch out!" a worker shouted.

The back of my head cracked against a metal railing.

Everything went black at the edges. White sparks. A roar in my ears.

Through the blur, I saw Tyler. His arms were wrapped around Madison, pulling her away from the ramp.

He hadn't even turned around.

The engine noise grew louder. Closer. I tried to move my legs. They wouldn't listen.

Then a loud clunk, and the growl died.

Someone had hit the emergency stop.

Arms slid under my back and knees. I was lifted off the wet concrete like I weighed nothing.

I forced my eyes open.

Dark hair, damp with sweat, falling over his forehead. A navy Harbormen training shirt. A jaw so tight it looked carved out of stone.

Ryan Carter.

"Avery? Hey. Look at me." His voice was rough. "Stay with me."

"I'm fine," I tried to say. It came out as a mumble. The hallway spun.

He started running.

As we passed Tyler, my boyfriend finally looked up. His eyes went wide. He stuck an arm out.

"Wait—she's my girlfriend!"

Ryan stopped.

He glanced down at me, at whatever my face looked like right then. Then he raised his eyes to Tyler.

"Then why the hell," he said, ice in every word, "was I the one who saved her?"

Tyler's arm dropped. He didn't say a thing.

Ryan didn't wait for him to. He turned and kept moving, his chest pounding against my cheek. He bent his head close to my ear.

"Don't close your eyes, sweetheart. I've got you."

I fisted my hand in his collar. It was the only thing holding still.

The lights above us smeared into long gold lines. Doors banged open. Voices overlapped.

"Call an ambulance," Ryan snapped. "Now."

My eyelids were so heavy.

The last thing I felt before the dark swallowed me was his hand closing around mine.

Big. Warm. Calloused.

And shaking.