Hands Off The Ice King novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hope’s POV

Freya: For your own sanity, don’t lurk on your ex-boyfriend’s Instagr*m.

Me: Now I’m curious. You shouldn’t have told me.

Freya: You would’ve seen it anyway. Unfollow the motherfucker already.

I sighed, spinning slowly in the rolling chair as I stared at my phone.

I really shouldn’t check.

Nothing good had ever come out of stalking an ex online. Everyone knew that.

And yet… in the end, my curiosity won.

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With a deep breath, I opened Instagr*m. I didn’t even have to search Connor’s name. His post appeared the second the app loaded, almost like the universe personally wanted to humble me today.

My fingers stilled over the screen.

It was a photo of him and Delaney at a beach.

Connor was shirtless, wearing the expensive swim trunks I bought him two summers ago-the same pair he insisted he needed despite not being able to afford them at the time.

Delaney stood beside him in a matching bikini, his arm wrapped around her waist while she leaned against him. Behind them stretched clear blue water, white sand, and a sunset so perfect it almost looked fake.

They looked happy. Like one of those couples people envied online.

For four years, Connor never once took me on a vacation.

There was always an excuse.

We should save money.

He was too busy.

Maybe next year.

And like an idiot in love, I believed him every single time.

Now it became painfully obvious.

He just didn’t love me enough to try.

Out of anger, I clicked on his profile and scrolled aggressively through his feed. Hockey clips. Gym photos. Expensive shoes. Jerseys. More hockey.

And not once, was there a photo of me.

Granted, I never really posted him either, but that was different. I barely used social media. Connor, meanwhile, loved posting every little thing, especially the stuff I bought for him.

Funny.

Chapter 8

He could flaunt the gifts. Just never the girlfriend who gave them.

Before the bitterness could completely swallow me whole, the office door swung open.

I immediately tossed my phone aside and stood up quickly.

The twins walked in first, Desmond following right behind them with his hands inside his pocket.

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“Damn,” Desmond said with mock amazement. “I’m impressed. You actually survived three whole days already. That’s longer than most of your predecessors.”

I smiled dryly and patted my own shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Desmond leaned lazily against the desk, flashing a grin. “Having a pretty PT around is rare nowadays. Honestly, getting massaged by someone as cute as you has improved team morale tremendously.”

I clicked my tongue and walked right past him.

“Can I help you guys?” I asked the twins instead. “I already assessed Desmond yesterday and discovered he has the skeletal structure of a giraffe. Extremely sturdy.”

“I’ll show you another, body part that’s sturdy,” Desmond called from behind me.

I ignored him with professional dedication.

“Can you check my ankle?” Scott asked, pointing downward.

I tilted my head. “But Spencer’s ‘the one with the weak ankle, right? You injured it during the last game.”

Scott froze.

“You, Scott, sustained a clavicle injury from last season, but it seems much better now. You played more aggressively during the second half of the season, but I can still check if there’s lingering tension.”

I was greeted by silence. Neither of them moved.

Then Desmond burst out laughing behind us.

“Oh, this is incredible. She got you two immediately!”

“What?”

“These idiots try to confuse every newcomer,” he explained between laughs. “They’re identical, both in looks and personality, so they switch names all the time. You’re literally the first person who figured it out this fast.”

I looked back at the twins.

It was true-they looked nearly identical. Same dark hair. Same height. Same mole above the eyebrow. They honestly looked more cloned than related.

But even identical people weren’t truly the same.

“How did you know?” Spencer finally asked, looking genuinely baffled.

I shrugged lightly. “Because you’re still different people.”

Their expressions sharpened with interest, so I continued.

“You move differently. Scott favors his right side more aggressively because he plays right wing more often. Spencer

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Chapter 8

compensates with his dominant side, which puts more strain on his left ankle.”

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Spencer muttered, “That’s… actually the first time someone noticed that.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Glad I could be the first, then.”

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Desmond whistled dramatically. “Told you she was good. My back still feels brand new from yesterday’s session.”

I crouched slightly in front of Spencer and gently moved his ankle. “Honestly, I think you’re fine. But if you hesitate mentally, your body will hesitate too-and that’s when injuries happen.”

He nodded slowly, listening carefully.

“Actually,” I continued, straightening up, “the whole team seems to be in really good condition this season.”

Scott crossed his arms. “Have you checked everyone already?”

“Ye-”

I stopped mid-sentence.

Right.

I still hadn’t assessed Levi.

“…Almost,” I corrected quickly.

Desmond smirked instantly. “Let me guess. Our beloved superstar, Levi Reeve?”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Apparently my face answered for me. Because all three of them immediately reacted.

“Oho.”

“Honestly, predictable.”

“That’s hilarious.”

Heat crawled up my neck before I could stop it.

Last night, I’d dreamed about the kiss. Which was ridiculous because technically, it wasn’t even a real kiss. It was just supposed to be a distraction. A quick press of lips to hide his identity.

And yet… I could still remember the minty taste of him. The warmth of his hands against my neck. The way his breathing changed halfway through it.

He smelled annoyingly good too.

Unfortunately, judging from the death glare he gave me afterward, he clearly hadn’t enjoyed the experience nearly as much as my subconscious apparently did.

Oh well.

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