Caspian Vassos has spent eight years perfecting two things: his save percentage and the art of hating Avery Wilder. They came up through juniors together. Got drafted to the Toronto Storm together. Became the league's favorite narrative: grumpy goalie and his golden-boy forward, best friends who'd die for each other. The cameras eat it up. The fans worship it. The PR team prints money off it. And Caspian? Caspian smiles for the interviews and imagines all the ways he could make Avery bleed. Because needing someone to survive doesn't mean you have to like them. Doesn't mean you want them in your crease, in your head, in every breath you take on the ice. Doesn't mean the way you watch him—the way you've always watched him—is about anything but hatred. Avery Wilder has everything: the stats, the contract, the adoration. Everything except the one person who won't even look at him off the ice. Eight years of playing a role. Eight years of pretending the tension between them is just competitive fire. Eight years of Avery skating too close and Caspian pulling away, and neither of them willing to admit what it actually means when you can't stop watching someone you've convinced yourself you hate. Some grudges are worth keeping. Some are just easier than the truth.