Dex opens his mouth.
Coach looks at him.
Dex closes it again.
“We close it out,” I say quietly. “One shift at a time.”
They nod.
That’s what I do. I steady things.
I get the puck deep, burn the last seconds, keep it simple.
The horn sounds again.
Win.
Stick taps. Applause. Daytime proud instead of nighttime crazy.
As we skate off, the announcer’s voice hits one more time.
“Hearts on Ice: A Valentine’s Charity Night! Get your tickets now and ladies, bid online today for a chance to participate in our dating game and possibly win a date with a Nashville Outlaw! Or, get your general admission ticket and watch the fun unfold."
The camera finds me again.
It lingers.
I notice.
***
By the time I step into the locker room, my sweat is cooling and the adrenaline is draining out of me in slow waves.
Music thumps. Guys shout. Dex is already talking too loud about how the crowd is “basically begging” for him.
And I can’t decide what’s worse.
That he believes it, or that next week, we’re going to put microphones on three of us and let the whole city watch.
And somehow, I’m the one expected to keep it from turning into a circus.
Coach Hale enters and claps once, sharp and loud, the universal sound for shut up.
“Alright,” he says. “Phones down. Pants up. Eyes here.”
Dex, who is currently shirtless and toweling his hair like he’s in a slow-motion commercial for shampoo, looks offended. “My pants are at a respectful mid.”
“Pull them higher,” Coach says without missing a beat.
A chorus of snickers bounces off the concrete walls.
Two PR reps walk in like they’re entering a zoo enclosure. Polished smiles. Tablets clutched tight. The kind of people who say “activation” with a straight face.
“Quick update on Hearts on Ice,” the taller one says brightly.
Dex points at her. “We just heard the update. Twice. During the game. I’m basically in love now.”
Coach cuts his eyes at him. “Dex.”
