“I barely beat the line,” she declares, holding up a bucket of popcorn. I blink at her, hoping she didn’t see or hear any of my conversation with Declan just now. She had to have seen him skating away, so maybe she put two and two together that we were talking, but if she asks, I decide I’ll just tell her that the newest member of the Aces was introducing himself to me. Hopefully, she’ll buy that.

“Do you want any?” she asks, offering me the bucket, but my stomach is in knots, so I shake my head at her.

“No, thanks.”

She shrugs. “It’s low-calorie. It won’t ruin your yoga figure.”

I shoot her a sideways glance. “Maybe without the pound of butter you drizzled on it,” I tell her dryly, and she chuckles.

“You sound like your father. It doesn’t hurt to live a little every now and then, sweetheart.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes until the warmup ends. Cheers and applause fill the arena as the game finally gets underway, and when I glance at the Aces box looking for my father, I find Declan staring right at me instead.

He doesn’t smile or wave—just looks at me with such focused intensity that I feel it like a physical touch. In that moment, everyone else in the arena seems to fade away, and it’s just us, locked in a private exchange that no one else can see or understand.

I try to peel my gaze away from him, but he might as well be magnetic, just like he said.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one eyeing him. It’s a preseason game, but this is the first time any of the fans are going to see Declan on the ice with the Aces, and while there has definitely been a lot of buzz about him on all the sports forums, he still has a lot to prove. My dad has a reputation to maintain, especially after the team’s Cup win last season, and he doesn’t sign just anybody.

“Look, there’s the new guy,” my mother says, pointing at Declan with a piece of popcorn as he streaks out onto the ice with the rest of the team.

My father has him playing the defensive line, and I try to keep my gaze on everyone but Declan, but as the ref blasts his whistle and the players scatter, my eyes keep drifting to him.

I’ve watched countless hockey games, seen players come and go, but something about the way Declan moves on the ice is different. He has this fluid grace coupled with explosive power—like a predator conserving energy until the perfect moment to strike.