“Guess I’ll see you out there,” he said, moving toward the door.
I replied with a nod, because although my mask was back, I didn’t trust myself to speak just yet. When it clicked shut behind him, I exhaled, reached for my supplies, and got myself back in order.
He’d go play his game. And I’d pretend this entire exchange hadn’t left a mark.
A few minutes later, I slung my kit bag over one shoulder and pushed through the hallway that led to the tunnel. The pulse of the arena was already seeping into the walls, a low vibration of anticipation. Skates clattered on concrete somewhere behind me, distant yells echoing faintly, but for the moment it was just me, the smell of rubber, and a whole mess of what the actual fuck was I thinking.
“Just the person I wanted to see.”
I whirled round to see Holly bounding over, or as much as someone in heels and a pencil skirt could bound. She looked like she belonged in a skyscraper in New York City, not slumming it out with the rest of us ingrates in the bowels of whatever arena would have us.
“What did I do now?” I rolled my eyes, but was smiling.
Her laughter echoed in the tunnel as she fell in step beside me. “Just wanted to congratulate you on how you’re handling this new spin on things.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“No, seriously,” she said, bumping shoulders with me as we walked. “It’s a bigger role than you signed up for, and you’re doing great.”
I shrugged, trying to look unbothered, though the corner of my mouth betrayed a twitch of pride. “Thanks. I guess. I’m just… doing my job.”
“You are,” she said, taking two steps for every one of mine so she could keep up. “And look, this season? A hell of a lot easier than last. I remember having to coach Hunter through the most basic things.” She shook her head, like the memory of it still pained her. “You clearly had no teething issues with Theo. Everyone’s loving their new iron man. That’s what they’re calling him now.”
My hands tightened on the strap of my bag. Iron man. If they only knew how their newest hero was being held together with reams of tape for every game.
But I couldn’t dwell on that. As long as that tape held, there was no reason for anyone to think any differently.
“Good. He’s earning it,” I said evenly.
She glanced at me as we stepped onto the ramp leading to the ice. “Honestly, though, it’s clear he’s playing through pain and it’s because of you that he’s this good.”
I gave her a sideways glance, jaw tense. “All in a day’s work.”
Holly laughed and gave me another shoulder bump before floating off to her spot next to the penalty bench.
The air shifted immediately, sharp with cold, the boards gleaming under the lights. I adjusted my bag, and let the sounds of the crowd wash over me. Game 3 was gonna be a killer. Winner took the edge on Round 2, and I hoped to God Theo was up for the challenge.
I let my attention slide to him on the bench, shoulders squared, helmet tucked under one arm. That grin of his. That easy confidence that belied the grind he was pushing through. I inhaled slowly, and reminded myself that keeping him in one piece was more important than ever now.
The puck dropped, and the arena vibrated under the weight of the crowd. Surge came out the gate hard, but Dallas Stars was up for it and then some. Van der Berg hadn’t made the flight because he had to finalize his trip to Sweden, so I was all by myself on the trainers’ bench, tracking Theo all the way. He started with that familiar swagger, chest out, hips squared, ready to rip the head off anyone who got too close.
In the opening minutes, a Stars winger came barreling down the ice, stick cocked high. Theo pivoted and caught him on the boards shoulder-first. The impact jarred through him, and he stumbled just slightly, right shoulder tucking in. He shook it off mid-stride, blade skimming ice, and hit his line like nothing had happened.
Guess that was something we were both good at… Pretending.
The play switched. Mason drew two defenders, spun out of the wall, but had his wrist-shot blocked by a flailing pad. Grayson zipped past, intercepted the rebounding puck, and redirected it back into the slot where Shawn was waiting. But it got blocked again, this time by a Stars forward who came out of nowhere. He sped up the ice like a runaway train, straight for Theo and Tucker. The others doubled back to shield.
Theo stood his ground, right arm flexing too quickly. A flicker of a wince through the grill of his helmet, and then gone again. My stomach pinched. The game had barely started. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
Mid-second, Theo absorbed a hit in the neutral zone. I felt it through the bench before I saw it—his elbow bent slightly, hand gripping his stick tighter, shoulder jerking back to compensate. He kept moving, passed to Grayson, turned, punched the ice with his stick in celebration, and my fingers loosened. He was smiling, shouting something to the crowd, but the subtle tension in his arm stayed.
Another turnover. Theo back-checking, battling a winger for the puck. A Stars skater slammed into him from the side. The hit rattled the boards. He braced, his shoulder rolling under the pressure, and carried the puck out anyway. The movement was clean, fluid, but my eyes caught the tiny hitch in the rotation. I breathed slowly, keeping my expression blank.
Late in the third, the game was tied 2–2. Puck dropped at center, and Theo intercepted a feed behind the net. He twisted to pivot, then caught a shoulder from a charging winger mid-rotation. The hit landed square in his right shoulder, and he hissed between his teeth, clipped his skate to stay upright, and rolled it as he passed to Tucker.
He skated back toward the bench on the next whistle, arm slightly tighter against his side than normal. McAvoy’sexpression clouded over as Theo reached for the wall. Before he could say a word, I jumped the bench and pushed in.
“He’s fine,” I said, voice as steady as I could muster over the panic rising in my throat. The tendons in Theo’s jaw twitched, and he nodded at the coach.
