But I was really just protecting myself.
The Chicago player blows past me.
Shoots.
Scores.
The crowd groans.
Coach is yelling something.
But I’m not listening. I’m done pretending.
I’m done doing the right thing.
Intermission can’t come fast enough.
I skate off the ice, helmet in hand, heading straight for the tunnel with the other guys.
Derek catches up with me. “Kane, where are you going? We’ve got?—”
“I need five minutes.”
“We’re down by one?—”
“I know.” I keep walking. “Five minutes. I promise.”
I burst into the locker room. Everyone’s scattered—some guys getting water, others checking their equipment.
I grab my phone from my locker.
Open Instagram.
Find Chloe’s profile.
The dragon post is still there.Sometimes the armor has to come off.
My fingers hover over the keyboard.
Then I notice she’s posted again. Two minutes ago.
A photo of her sitting next to Jessa in what looks like a hockey arena. Behind her, I spot a section number. It’s section 104 in our arena. No caption.
My heart stops.
Section 104.
She’shere.
I look up at the clock. Three minutes until we’re back on the ice.
Derek appears in the doorway. “Kane, Coach is—” He stops. Sees my face. “What?”
“She’s here.”
“Who’s—” Understanding dawns. “Chloe?”
I nod. “Section 104.”
