Chapter 1 — A Savior’s First Glimpse

Rosie

The air inside Parkside’s hockey rink was sharp and cold, biting at my cheeks as I tugged my scarf tighter around my neck. Voices echoed over the din of skates on ice, punctuated by the piercing whistle of the referee. The bleachers were packed shoulder to shoulder, their collective cheers rising in a chaotic crescendo that made my head thrum.

I hugged the strap of my bag to my chest and leaned toward Georgia, who was busy yelling something unintelligible at the players on the ice. Her red curls bounced wildly as she gestured in what could only be described as theatrical frustration.

“I still don’t see why I had to come to this,” I muttered under my breath, though the words barely carried over the relentless noise.

Georgia spun toward me, her green eyes glimmering with mischief. “Because, Rosie, you need to live a little! Where else can you witness Parkside’s finest show off their skills and enjoy some grade-A entertainment? Also, you’re welcome—Zack Vella’s playing tonight.”

“Zack Vella?” I frowned. The name was familiar in the way most names in a small town are—faintly ringing a bell but devoid of any personal connection. He was the hockey star Georgia occasionally mentioned, usually with an exaggerated wink or some dramatic flourish.

“I’m not thanking you for dragging me to a glorified freezer,” I said, pulling my scarf higher over my chin in an attempt to shield myself from the chill.

“Come on,” Lily chimed in from my other side, her voice calm yet firm. “It’s good to get out of the house. You deserve a break.”

I sighed, glancing at her. Lily had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just a few words. Her composed, steady presence contrasted sharply with Georgia’s whirlwind energy. Sitting between the two of them, I felt like I was caught in the middle of some cosmic conspiracy against my introversion.

The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer, pulling my attention back to the rink. A player in a black-and-white jersey streaked across the ice, weaving between defenders with sharp, controlled movements. His dark hair spilled into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice as he flicked the puck toward the goal with effortless precision. It hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud, and the bleachers exploded with applause.

“Zack,” Georgia said, not-so-subtly elbowing me in the ribs.

“Great,” I replied with mock enthusiasm. “He can hit a puck.”

Georgia groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “He’s not just good, Rosie. He’s insane. Like, you-don’t-even-have-to-know-hockey-to-appreciate-this kind of insane. And, let’s not ignore the fact that he’s ridiculously attractive.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back at the ice. Not because I cared, but because engaging with Georgia when she got like this was exhausting.

The scoreboard ticked up another goal for Parkside, and the bleachers roared again. Zack skated past his teammates, his face unreadable even as they clapped him on the back. He seemed removed from the celebration, his expression distant, almost detached.

“He’s not smiling,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

“What?” Georgia asked, turning to me.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my gaze lingering on Zack as he skated to the bench.

The game ended with Parkside’s victory, and the bleachers began to empty out, the crowd buzzing with post-game energy. Georgia and Lily wanted to stay behind and wait for the players to emerge from the locker room, but I was already edging toward the exit before they could object.

“I’ll meet you guys at the car,” I called over my shoulder, not waiting for a response.

The cold outside was less biting than the rink but still sharp enough to make my breath fog in the dark. I hugged my bag tighter as I stepped into the parking lot, the crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers breaking the quiet. The distant hum of post-game chatter drifted through the air, faint but persistent.

“Hey, Rosie!”

I froze, the voice unfamiliar but unmistakably casual in a way that made my stomach twist. Turning, I spotted Max leaning against a car a few feet away. His jersey hung loosely over his street clothes, his damp hair plastered to his forehead.

“Max, right?” I said cautiously, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag.

He grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “That’s me. You’re Georgia’s friend, yeah? I’ve seen you around.”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, already inching backward. Something about the way he was looking at me—too direct, too sure—set my nerves on edge.

“You heading out alone?” he asked, pushing off the car and taking a step closer.

“I’m meeting my friends,” I said quickly. “They’re just inside.”

Max’s grin widened, his gaze flicking to my wrist where my mother’s bracelet caught the faint light. His hand twitched, like he was considering reaching for it.

“Well, no rush, right? We could—”

“Max.”

The voice was low and steady, cutting through the night like a blade. Both Max and I turned to see Zack standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. The dim parking lot lighting cast sharp shadows across his face, but it was his piercing blue eyes that froze Max in place. Calm. Intense. Unyielding.

“Vella,” Max said, his grin faltering. “What’s up, man?”

Zack didn’t respond. He just stared, his jaw tight and his stance solid, like he was daring Max to step closer.

After a beat, Max raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just talking.” He threw me one last look—too long, too smug—before slinking back toward the rink.

Zack’s gaze lingered on Max until he disappeared, then shifted to me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. My pulse was still hammering, though the worst of the tension had ebbed.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now but still steady.

I nodded, though my hands were still gripping my bag tightly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His eyes flicked down to my wrist, where I was clutching my mother’s bracelet without realizing it. Something flickered across his expression—brief, unreadable—before he looked away.

“Be careful walking alone,” he said, his voice almost quiet now.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his figure dissolving into the shadows at the edge of the lot.

I exhaled shakily, realizing only then that I’d been holding my breath. My shoulders sagged, and I rubbed my wrist absently, the cool metal of the bracelet grounding me. I didn’t know what to make of Zack Vella—calm, imposing, and gone before I could gather my thoughts.

By the time I reached the car, Georgia and Lily were already waiting, their chatter filling the space as I climbed into the backseat.

“What took you so long?” Georgia asked, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. What’s that look? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” I said too quickly, pulling my scarf tighter around me as if it could shield me from her scrutiny.

Lily glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her brows knitting together in quiet concern. “You sure?”

“Positive,” I lied, staring out the window as the car pulled out of the parking lot.

But as the lights of the rink faded behind us, I couldn’t shake the image of Zack’s unwavering stare—or the strange, inexplicable sense of safety that came with it.