Roxy POV
The aggressive scratch of a ballpoint pen pierced right through the thin paper because my hands were shaking so hard from adrenaline.
“Careful there, Tutor,” Jaxon murmured, his voice laced with that same lazy, effortless amusement that always made my blood run hot.
“You rip that page, you have to read the whole legal mess all over again. And I know how much you value your precious time.”
I ignored the mockery in his tone, my fingers clamping even tighter around the cheap plastic casing of the pen.
I used my left hand to smooth the crumpled paper against the top of the padded ice barrier, my eyes quickly scanning the blurred lines of tightly packed text.
The blue ink bled slightly into the white sheet where the metal tip had torn through the fibers.
My breath was still coming in short, uneven puffs, a thick cloud of white mist rising between Jaxon and me as he stood entirely too close, tracking my every movement.
“Let’s go over the print one more time just so we are completely clear,” Jaxon said.
He leaned his thick elbow on the ledge, his wide shoulder brushing directly against mine.
He was inside my personal space, using his size to crowd me against the glass, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Total public compliance. That means the second we step out of the private and onto the main campus quad, you belong to the terms. You hold my hand when we walk into the athletic center. You sit in the very front row of the student section at every single home game, wearing my jersey with my number on your back. And when the campus social media pages take photos of us by the library, you smile like I’m the best thing that ever happened to your quiet, boring little life.”
Every syllable felt like a slap to my face, a deliberate attempt to remind me of how powerless I was in his world.
I looked up from the contract, staring directly into his stormy grey eyes.
“And what exactly do I get in return for making a fool of myself?” I snapped, my voice tight.
“You actually sit down and let me tutor you? No more skipping appointments? No more locking me in deserted rinks at midnight?”
“In private, at my out of campus apartment,” Jaxon clarified, his smirk sharpening into something predatory.
“Away from the cameras, away from the team, and away from my father’s people. You do your little high school teaching routine, I sign your hourly verification sheets, and your five thousand dollars gets wired directly to the bursar’s office by the end of the month. You stay at Kingston Academy. I keep my starting spot on the ice. Everybody gets exactly what they need.”
“It’s not winning,” I whispered, my voice thick with a sudden wave of bitterness that tasted bitter.
“It’s extortion, Jaxon. You’re using my survival as a bargaining chip.”
“Welcome to the real world. I thought a smart girl like you would understand how the system works by now.”
I looked down at the paper again, the text swimming before my eyes.
I knew exactly what this was.
This was a deal with the devil, signed in black ink on a freezing night in an empty arena.
If anyone back in Ashenvale ever found out I was playing the part of a rich boy’s pet project, I would never be able to look them in the eye again.
My dad worked twelve-hour shifts at the damp shipping docks, his hands permanently covered in oil and blisters, just to give me a chance at a real future away from the gray fog of our town.
My mom skipped meals to afford the very textbooks sitting in my backpack right now.
If I walked out of here tonight, if I let my pride win the argument, the university would send the formal eviction notice tomorrow morning.
My family’s impending bankruptcy was waiting for me just across the finish line.
I had absolutely no choice.
Over by the player benches, the scrape of steel blades broke the tense silence.
Nate Miller glided closer to the net, stopping right at the edge of the red crease.
He had his large arms crossed tightly over his broad chest, his dark eyes fixed on Jaxon with a deeply unreadable expression.
“Jax,” Nate said, his low baritone cutting through the freezing air like a knife.
“This is messy. Even for your standards.”
Jaxon didn’t even bother to look up from my face.
“The athletic board wants a respectable distraction, Nate. I’m just giving them a masterpiece.”
“She’s not one of the girls from the fraternity row parties who wants a story to tell her friends,” Nate warned, his voice dropping into a serious, guarded tone that made my chest tighten.
He stepped all the way to the barrier, his eyes shifting to me for a brief second, noting my shivering frame, before locking back onto his defensive partner.
“You’re messing with someone’s actual life here, man. Don’t play with fire just because you want to find a new way to piss your father off. This isn’t a game. It’s going to burn both of you if you aren’t careful.”
The mere mention of his father always seemed to turn his blood to ice.
He tapped the center of the contract with his bare, calloused finger.
“Sign it, Roxy. Stop wasting my time and yours.”
I looked at the empty signature line at the bottom of the page.
My mind was screaming at me to drop the plastic pen, to turn around, to walk out that locked door and find any other way to survive.
But there was no other way.
Ashenvale was waiting to swallow me whole if I failed here, and the ocean fog of my hometown felt closer than ever.
I pressed my lips together so tightly they went white, stealing all the warmth from my face.
I lowered the pen back to the paper, my knuckles straining until they turned a ghostly white as I forced my shaking hand to write my full name across the bottom line.
The ink was dark, permanent, and binding.
The moment the final letter was finished, I dropped the pen.
It clattered loudly against the wooden ledge and rolled off, disappearing somewhere onto the dark ice below.
Slowly, I stood up straight, forcing myself to look Jaxon Montgomery dead in his arrogant eye.
I didn’t care that my right hip was throbbing with a deep, dark bruise from the boards.
I didn’t care that my entire body was shivering under the thin cotton of my hoodie.
I gathered every single ounce of the grit, the anger, and the defiance I had brought with me from the gray coast of Ashenvale, and I shoved it right into his face.
I stepped closer, until the fabric of our jackets was brushing, forcing him to see the lack of fear in my eyes.
“We have a deal,” I whispered, my voice steady, dangerous, and deathly quiet in the massive arena.
“But let’s make one thing clear to you right now, Montgomery. This is a performance for the cameras. It is a lie. If you touch me in public without warning—if you cross the line and put your hands on me when the board isn’t looking—I will drive this hockey stick straight through your throat. Do you understand me?”