I didn’t know what to do with that.
He just shrugged. “If you ever need to talk, or need a place to go…” He tapped his phone, but I knew I had all the team's numbers. “I mean it. Don’t let it twist you up. Makes the control worse.”
I nodded, but my hands were still shaking.
Keegan stood, slow and easy, giving me time. “You did good out there. Got us the win.”
He stood and left me alone. The silence in the locker room was thick, but somehow, knowing Keegan knew—and didn’t hate me for it, didn’t even blink—it helped. A little.
Enough to get dressed. Enough to breathe. I knew the press were waiting for me, and somehow, I managed to operate on automatic pilot through it. Keegan hung around, almost protectively, and for some reason so did the Scottish-Canadiangiant, Taranis. Maxim and Ash from my line were supportive as always, but both Keegan and the giant goaltender had my back. It was surreal.
Phoenix was mostly silent on the ride home, and I was relieved I’d gotten a car and not driven. The second we were through the door in the apartment and it was closed, he turned to me and opened his arms.
I didn’t even try to hide it. I just dropped my bag and went to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist. Just held on tight. I let my chin rest on top of his head, breathing in the scent of him, the weird mix of clean laundry and soap and my shower gel I loved smelling on him.
He was safe. He was here. I was here.
“I won’t ask if you’re okay because I know you’re not,” he whispered.
I nodded. I couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.
He just squeezed me tighter. “But when you’re ready to talk about whatever happened, I’m ready to listen.”
And damn, I wanted to so much. So bloody much.
I just couldn’t.
Phoenix
The first thing I noticed was the quiet.
The kind of quiet that comes after a storm—heavy, waiting. Cole had fallen asleep sometime after dawn, sprawled half on top of me, his breathing shallow but even. I’d wanted to stay like that, listening to his heartbeat, pretending the world outside didn’t exist for a few more hours.
Then the frontdoor slammed open.
Hard.
Cole jerked awake instantly. For a second, his eyes were unfocused—then he was up, every muscle snapping tense. The sound came again, louder this time. A voice. Deep. Angry. Familiar in a way that made Cole go absolutely still.
“Cole!”
His father.
I sat up, heart hammering. Cole’s bare chest gleamed with sweat; the bruises from the game looked worse in daylight.
“Stay here,” he hissed, already pulling on the first shirt he could find.
“Cole—”
He turned on me, eyes bright gold for just a flash. “Please, Phoenix. Don’t come out. Not for this.”
Then he was gone, the bedroom door not quite shut behind him.
I slid silently to the edge of the bed, every instinct screaming to follow, but something in his tone stopped me cold. Through the half-open door, voices carried—harsh, clipped, echoing off the walls.
“You lost control, didn’t you?” his father said. No preamble. No warmth.
“I didn’t—”
