To the public, I was Stockholm's captain and Jace Calder was Toronto's golden boy, destined to tear each other apart whenever the puck dropped. After a vicious hit ignited a bench clearing brawl, our feud gave the crowd exactly what it wanted. But behind a locked apartment door, the man I had just crushed against the glass was held close in my arms. As Jace searched my face, one question changed everything: would I cross an ocean and abandon my club to be with him?