3–1 in the series now, one step closer to Round 2. The crowd, the energy, the way the guys rallied. It’s still in my bones. But if I’m honest, it isn’t hockey that keeps me up half the night.
I walk into the training room lighter than I’ve felt in weeks, grinning before I can stop myself.
She glances up from her tablet. “Morning.”
Her smile is instant, warm enough to hit me square in the chest. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, like she’s caught offguard by her own grin. And when our eyes hold for a beat too long, I swear there’s a flicker of the same heat that’s been eating me alive.
“Morning,” I echo, a little too easy.
She sets me up with bands and stretches, all business, but I can’t help myself. I bait her, just enough to see her roll her eyes, and that smile she tries to bite back.
“Not going to take it easy on me?” I tease.
Her brows lift. “Progress doesn’t care about the score, Captain.”
I chuckle, shifting my weight. “You sound like Coach McCarthy.”
“Take it as a compliment,” she shoots back, adjusting my stance. Her hand brushes my calf, firm but steady, and every nerve in me fires hot.
She’s right here, close enough that I have to fight the urge to reach for her. I grip the band harder instead.
I should be focused on my knee, on the mechanics, on the work. But my head’s somewhere else entirely. I want more. Not just another stolen kiss in a quiet hallway, not the ache of wanting her after a win. I needher.
And for the first time, I’m not just thinking it. I’m ready to say it out loud. To David, of all people. Hiding it from him feels wrong, and if I’m going to date her, he deserves to hear it from me first.
And with the team flying out to Dallas tonight, I need to catch him before they go.
Later that afternoon, I track David down in the video room. Just him, the screen glow, and a stack of notes. No staff. No other players. Perfect.
David’s hunched at a monitor, remote in hand, replaying our last game. He barely glances up when I step in.
“Hey,” I start, my throat drier than it should be. “I need to talk to you about Charlie.”
David doesn’t even blink. “Yeah, I know she’s tough. You’re stuck with her, so make the best of it.”
He gives a short laugh, still watching the screen.
“The only way you get rid of her is if you date her.”
He snorts, finally glancing at me. “And we both know that’s not happening.”
The words slam into me like a check I didn’t see coming. I freeze, blood rushing in my ears. I hadn’t even considered what it could cost her. Her job, her career on the line. My stomach twists.
Christ. What am I doing?
I cover it fast, force a chuckle. “I was just gonna say she’s good. She knows what she’s doing.”
I nod toward the monitor. “Anyway, you guys flying out tonight?”
I pull up a chair and make myself watch the clips like nothing’s wrong.
When I head out a half hour later, there’s something I know I have to do, even if it guts me.
I rehearse it the entire drive home. By the time I step inside, I know it has to be short, clean, and to the point. lean. No room for negotiation.
I type out the text:Sorry, Charlie. Can’t do dinner tomorrow.
Feeling like the world’s biggest asshole, I hit send before I can think better of it.
