“You said your blade needed adjusting,” I called to Hunter on his way out of the locker room.
He shook his head. “It’s fine now, thanks.”
“And your thigh?” He turned back, looking a little irritated by me holding him back while the rest of the team had already filtered out. “Are you avoiding me?”
“Just have my head in the game.” He cracked a smile. “I’m good to go, promise.”
I followed him out, and wasn’t surprised to find Theo waiting there.
“You’re actually catching the game in person?”
He and Hunter shared a look, then he replied, “Big one tonight. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
We moved down the tunnel, Theo just a step ahead of me, the team flanking us like a buffer. My palms were sticky under the gear I carried, stomach knotted in a mix of adrenalineand apprehension. Even with him walking beside me, calm and charming as ever, I felt the heat rise along my neck.
The press had stationed themselves at the mouth of the tunnel, cameras angled, microphones thrust forward, voices droning like bees in a jar.
“Theo! Theo! How’s the shoulder?”
“Will you be back for round four?”
“Game-ready, or still rehabbing?”
Theo didn’t flinch. In fact, he leaned into it, grin effortless, his tone teasing and precise. “I’ll be back. Don’t you worry about that. Round four? I’ll be right there on the ice, giving them hell.”
I mirrored his smile, but inside, every word he spoke was a knife edge. He believed it. He really believed it. And the truth of what I’d done, what I’d falsified in that report, was a weight churning in my stomach. I felt sick with it.
“Feeling confident about tonight?” a reporter asked, eyes darting to me.
I nodded, letting the enthusiasm I didn’t entirely feel shape my expression. “The guys are fit and ready to take the round.”
“And Bouchard?”
“Theo’s been pushing hard in rehab. He’s on track. He’s… ready.” My words were careful, measured in the way a lie has to be to survive scrutiny.
The cameras clicked and flashed, and the reporters scribbled, leaning in for the next tidbit. Theo kept the charm rolling, tossing quips over his shoulder, fielding questions like a pro, utterly unaware of the storm behind my smile.
The team moved around us, Mason bumping shoulders with Shawn, Grayson muttering about the first line rotation, Landon jogging out front to lap up the screams from fans. And everytime someone called Theo’s name, my chest contracted a little more.Fine, the word echoed in my mind, bright and hollow. He’s fine. He’ll be back. He’ll play. He has to.
A last microphone was thrust into my face right before we hit the stands. “There’s been a lot of talk about the scans. Anything to worry about?”
I squared my shoulders. “The team’s dedication is solid. Between that and my work, I’ll see to it there’s nothing to worry about.”
Theo glanced at me, eyebrow raised in that sly way that said he could read every inch of my face, but not the part that mattered. He smiled and tipped his head toward the reporter. “See? She’s got me covered.”
They laughed, seemingly satisfied with that. Their voices overlapped as we kept pushing forward, my eyes trained on the bench. My guaranteed sanctuary away from the noise, away from Theo, where I could focus on the game and nothing else.
He slid into the stands right behind me, keeping as close to the action as possible. His confidence, the team’s chatter, the music, and the swell of the crowd… each element layered on top of my own internal alarm.
I had to get him back on the ice. Had to make him strong. Had to make the lie stick until he could truly be okay.
The heat was on.
Not under the lights, not in front of the cameras, but in the quiet, calculated minutes between drills, treatments, and stretches—where my hands and my decisions carried more weight than anyone would ever know.
The puck dropped and the ice practically vibrated under the rush of skates. Surge attacked early as Mason cut across the slot, and angled a shot toward the net, but the Avalanche defensewas faster, closing him off before he could set his hips. Grayson darted in for the rebound, and the real battle began.
“Stay sharp,” I murmured, though no one heard.
