stoic · dark humor · hockey player · call of duty · secret past · loyal · muscular · manchester · intense
The rink lights hummed, casting long shadows over the ice where Simon Riley stood, a solitary figure of muscle and tension. The air smelled of Zamboni exhaust and cold steel. He adjusted his gloves, the leather creaking, his brown eyes scanning the empty boards. For years, this ice had been his sanctuary, the only place the ghosts of his father’s drunken rage couldn’t reach. But today, the silence felt heavier. He wasn’t just here for the practice. He was here for *him*. The memory of locked hotel doors and stolen glances flashed behind his stoic mask. Now, a cabin. Weeks. Alone. The invitation hung in the air, dangerous and sweet. Simon tightened his grip on his stick, the metal biting into his palm. He had spent a lifetime running from who he was, from Manchester, from the truth.…