10. Lucky Shot

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard his voice. My father, the man who suddenly appeared in my life as if he wasn't the stranger I met only a day or two ago.

"Calliope."

I kept walking. My mother never gave a shit about me why would he?

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"Calliope—"

Door shut. Conversation over.

I stood there for a second, back pressed against the door, heart still pounding. My dad standing there, waiting up for me like he had any right to ask where I'd been? Like he actually cared? It was too much.

I exhaled sharply, forcing my body to relax. I didn't owe him an explanation. I didn't owe anyone anything.

I peeled off my jacket, changed into sweats, and climbed into bed. But even with my eyes closed, my mind refused to shut off. I kept replaying last night. The stolen car. The headlights cutting through the darkness. The look on Grayson's face when he saw me with Jonah, Theo, and Tess.

Like he knew something about me. Like he had me figured out.

I hated it.

I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Morning couldn't come fast enough.

At school, I ignored the hockey team. It wasn't like I ever wanted to be near them anyways but seeing Grayson and Lucian follow me was foreign territory, people who actually wanted to know where I was going and if I was safe.

I slid into a spare chair at lunch, surrounded by Alexis and her friends that go to our school. They talked about weekend plans, class assignments, who got detention for skipping gym. Normal stuff. Stuff I could pretend to care about.

Across the cafeteria, I felt eyes on me.

I didn't have to look to know who it was. Grayson. Luke. A couple of the other hockey guys. They didn't say anything. Didn't try to approach me.

Which was good because I don't think I could keep my calm if they spoke to me. Let them stare. Let them wonder.

After school, I went to the rink. I need a break from everyone and everything.

I laced up my skates, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the last few days. The moment my blades touched the ice, everything else faded away.

It had been a while since I did this—since I skated just for me. The ice was familiar beneath me, the sharp edges of my skates cutting clean across the surface as I picked up speed.

I moved on instinct. A deep edge. A tight turn. A jump. A perfect landing.

It felt good. Right.

And then—

A roar of blades. A blur of bodies.

I barely had time to register what was happening before something—someone—slammed into me at full speed.

My skates flew out from under me.

The impact knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I hit the ice hard, pain shooting up my hip and shoulder. A mess of bodies crashed beside me, tangled limbs and scattered sticks.

For a second, all I could do was blink up at the ceiling, trying to process what the hell just happened.

Then the voices started.

"Shit—"

"Dude, what the—"

"Is she okay?"

I shoved myself up, breath still coming fast, and glared. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Grayson was the first to untangle himself, his helmet slightly crooked, mouth open like he had something to say but no clue how to say it.

"Callie?" His eyes darted to my skates, my stance, the way I'd been moving before they plowed into me.

Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Before I could fire back, another voice cut through the chaos.

"Are you kidding me?!"

I turned just as Chris aka my dad, stormed across the ice, his face thunderous.

The team snapped to attention like they'd been caught red-handed.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, his voice sharp and cutting. "You don't just barrel onto the ice like that without looking!"

"It was an accident, Coach," one of them muttered.

"An accident?!" My dad scoffed. "You could've seriously hurt someone! You think the rules don't apply just because you're excited to practice? Because you want to mess around? This rink isn't just yours!"

The team stood stiff, absorbing the full force of his anger.

Then, as if on instinct, my dad turned to me. His eyes flickered over me—assessing, checking. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, brushing ice shavings off my leggings.

He let out a sharp breath, muttering under his breath before turning back to the team. "This is exactly why I don't let you idiots—" he gestured at them, exasperated, "—anywhere near my daughter—"

Silence.

A full beat of dead, heavy silence.

Then—

"Wait—she's your daughter?!"

It came from multiple voices at once, overlapping in shock.

I froze.

Shit.

The realization hit the team like a freight train. Some of them looked from me to him, connecting the dots. Others just straight-up gawked, as if I had suddenly grown a second head.

Grayson's jaw clenched. Luke's eyes went wide. A few of the others exchanged stunned glances.

"Since when?" one of them blurted out.

"Since always," I muttered, annoyed.

"You never told us!" another guy said.

"You never asked," I shot back.

Grayson was still staring, like he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes flicked to my skates again, like he was still processing the fact that I could actually skate.

"Wait—" Luke frowned, looking genuinely confused. "So you can skate?"

I gave him a deadpan look. "No, I just magically floated across the ice."

A few of the guys snorted, but my dad wasn't in the mood for jokes. He rubbed a hand over his face, looking exhausted. "Just—get off the ice," he muttered. "All of you."

The team started clearing out, still murmuring amongst themselves, casting glances my way.

Grayson lingered.

He didn't say anything, but I could feel the questions burning behind his eyes.

I lifted my chin. "Something to say, Maverick ?"

His jaw tightened. "Nope."

"Good."

I turned my back on him and skated away.

Their training was pretty boring, a lot of boys who looked like toddlers as they messed around in practice, I was pretty sure they had a game this week so surely they would've been taking this seriously.

My dad yelled at them to get in line and the boys followed his command making me snicker. The way one man could control all of these boys.

"This is pathetic boys! What was that pass?! And missing the goal, it was like teaching the Mini's!" My dad yelled referring to the little children he taught on some occasions.

I leaned over the barrier from the players bench I'd been sat on.

"Hey Chris," I whisper to my dad as he was facing away from me to look at the boys, he turned and nodded to give me his attention, "maybe the boys should learn some concentration practices."

My dads eyebrows raised, "what do you have in mind Kid?" He opened the little door that blended in with the barrier to let me back on the ice.

I skated on, taking my place in front of the team.

"What can she teach us?" Jax called out, seeming like I threatened him just from wanting to help.

"Well you lot don't look like the pro hockey players I've heard rumours about." I snapped back.

"We're just tired, okay. So what if we was just having some fun." Luke chimed in.

Therefore where there's Lucian, there's Grayson.

"We've practiced nearly everyday for the whole week or two, we're not slacking." As I suspected Gray piped up.

I smirked, crossing my arms. "Oh yeah? You call that last pass fun? Looked more like a toddler throwing a tantrum."

A few guys snickered, but Jax rolled his eyes. "Alright, Miss Figure Skater, what's your big plan?"

I arched a brow. "Simple. You guys are all over the place. You're distracted, unfocused. If you don't sharpen up, your next game is gonna be a disaster."

Grayson gave me a look, his expression unreadable. "And you think you can fix that?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. If you're willing to listen."

My dad, still watching from the side, let out a short laugh. "You heard her, boys. Line up."

The team grumbled but obeyed, skating into position.

"Alright," I started, gliding in front of them. "Since you guys clearly need help focusing, we're gonna play a little game."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "A game?"

"Yep," I nodded. "Ever heard of shadow skating?"

Some of them looked confused, others intrigued.

"It's like Simon Says, but on the ice. I do a move, you copy. No hesitation, no thinking—just instinct. It forces you to react quickly and stay in control of your body."

Vince scoffed. "What, like some figure skating routine?"

I smirked. "Oh, trust me, you won't be laughing in about five minutes."

My dad leaned against the boards, watching with mild amusement. "You heard her. Try to keep up."

I took off, gliding across the ice with effortless speed before stopping sharply. The guys followed, some stumbling slightly.

"Too slow," I taunted. "Again."

I did a quick pivot, shifting direction. They copied, a few struggling.

"C'mon, that was pathetic."

We kept going, each move getting harder. Tight turns, fast stops, quick transitions. Some of them started catching on, while others got visibly frustrated.

Grayson, of course, was keeping up. His jaw was set, his movements sharp and controlled.

After a few more rounds, I finally slowed. "See? You just needed to stop thinking so much."

The guys were panting, a mix of exhaustion and irritation on their faces.

"Alright, Brooks," Jax muttered. "Maybe you do know a thing or two."

I grinned. "Damn right I do."

Grayson skated up beside me, his expression unreadable. "Not bad."

I arched a brow. "Not bad?"

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. "We'll see if you can keep up next time."

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, you're on, Maverick."

Grayson clearly saw me as competition for the first time as I used his last name, he froze a little before his friend began to talk.

Jax skated forward, crossing his arms with a cocky grin. "Alright, Brooks. You talk a big game, but can you actually play?"

I arched a brow. "You challenging me, Carter?" This time I used Jax last name, he was being cocky.

Luke smirked. "We all are."

I scoffed, glancing at my dad. "And you're just letting them do this?"

He shrugged, arms crossed as he leaned against the boards. "You handled yourself just fine against them already. Let's see what you've really got."

A slow grin spread across my face. "Fine. You're on."

Grayson tossed me a stick from the bench. I caught it easily, the weight unfamiliar but not impossible. The whole team was watching, some amused, others curious. They still thought I was just a figure skater.

They were about to learn otherwise.

Drills started simple.

Sprints? Easy. I wasn't just keeping up—I was ahead. Edges, balance, speed? That was my world. By the second round, some of the guys were breathing hard while I was barely breaking a sweat.

Stickhandling? That part was new, but my instincts kicked in. Weaving the puck through cones, adjusting my footing—it wasn't that different from controlling my edges in figure skating. A few guys mumbled in surprise.

"Damn, she's actually good," Vince muttered.

Then came shooting.

I lined up, adjusting my grip on the stick. The puck sat there, waiting. The guys were watching closely, expecting me to mess up.

I didn't.

My first shot went bar-down, pinging off the crossbar and in. Clean. Precise. The silence that followed was glorious.

Luke blinked. "What the hell?"

I grabbed another puck. Another shot—top corner.

Jax ran a hand through his hair. "No way."

"Lucky shots," Grayson muttered.

I smirked, skating backward. "You wanna test that theory, Captain?"

Scrimmage time.

Coach put me on a line with Vince and Dylan, just to see how I handled it. The moment the puck dropped, instinct took over. I wasn't just skating—I was playing.

I stole the puck off Max with a quick turn, outmaneuvered Tyler, and sent a pass straight to Vince, who barely caught it in time.

"Holy shit," he muttered, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

Grayson came at me next, fast and aggressive. I didn't flinch. The second he lunged for the puck, I spun out of his reach, pivoting on my toe pick before darting past him.

"Nope," I teased.

He cursed under his breath, whipping around to chase me down.

I didn't just keep up—I held my own. And by the time practice ended, the guys weren't just impressed. They were shook.

Coach skated over, smirking. "Not bad, Kid."

Jax let out a breath, shaking his head. "Brooks, where the hell did you learn to play like that?"

I grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Grayson was still staring, eyes unreadable. He wasn't used to being caught off guard.

I skated past him, tapping his stick with mine. "Guess you'll have to step up your game, Maverick."

For once, he had nothing to say.

But I knew, most of those shots where definitely lucky, because if I was in all the padding the boys where wearing, I would've fell flat on my face.

—————

A/N: Did you like this chapter? I think it was one of my favourites!

Plus I've got a plan for the next couple chapter and I can't wait, I just need to time it right.

Also I love Lana del Ray when I write,

No one can tell me her love songs aren't mafia romances like omg I love her songs sm.

ANYWAYS PLEASE COMMENT!!

Words: 2332