"I saw your face in there." Lou couldn't meet her eyes. "You were terrified. The moment Mara said she knew, you looked like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole."
"Of course I was scared. Anyone would be scared." Camille reached for her hand, but Lou stepped back. "Lou, what is this?"
"This is me being realistic." The words scraped Lou's throat like broken glass. "You said it yourself—you're not ready. Coming out, going public, any of it. And now our coach knows, which means it's only a matter of time before someone else figures it out. Before the media gets wind of it. Before your whole carefully constructed life comes crashing down because of me."
"That's not?—"
"I'm a liability." Lou finally looked at her, and the pain in Camille's blue eyes nearly broke her resolve. "For you, for the team, for everything you've worked for. Mara's right. We need to focus. We need to win these games and qualify for the PWHL. And we can't do that if we're..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Couldn't find words for the terror that had taken root in her chest—the fear that loving Camille would cost them both everything, that the happiness she'd glimpsed in that hotel room was a mirage built on sand.
"Lou." Camille's voice cracked. "Please don't do this."
"I'm not doing anything." Lou opened her truck door, putting metal between them like a shield. "I'm just... I need space. I need to think. We both do."
She climbed in before Camille could argue, before her own resolve could crumble. The engine roared to life, drowning out whatever Camille was saying as she pulled out of the parking space.
In the rearview mirror, Camille stood alone in the empty lot, watching Lou drive away. Her blonde hair caught the sunshine, turning it to gold. Even at this distance, Lou could see the devastation in her posture—the slump of her shoulders, the way her arms hung limp at her sides.
Lou forced her eyes back to the road.
The drive home took twenty minutes—twenty minutes of white-knuckling the steering wheel, of blinking back tears that threatened to fall, of second-guessing every word she'd just said. Her hands shook so badly she had to pull over twice, gripping the wheel until her knuckles ached while she forced herself to breathe through the panic.
Every mile she put between herself and Camille felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Every traffic light that turned green felt like another step down a path she didn't want to walk.
But Mara was right. Timing mattered. And right now, at the most crucial point in Phoenix Ridge's season, Lou couldn't afford to let her heart overrule her head.
She pulled into her driveway as the sun began its descent toward the mountains. Her small house looked the same as always—modest, practical, the kind of place someone built a life in without expecting anyone else to share it. The sight of it made her chest ache in new ways.
This was what she'd chosen. Invisibility. Safety. A life small enough to protect.
And for the first time in years, Lou wondered if the protection had been worth the price.
She sat in her truck for a long time, engine off, watching the light change as the sun sank lower. Somewhere across town, Camille was probably doing the same thing—sitting alone, hurting, trying to make sense of what had just happened between them.
Lou had done this. Had hurt the woman she loved to protect them both from a future she was too afraid to face.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She'd spent her whole life being invisible to avoid exactly this kind of pain. And now the only thing that hurt worse than being seen was the thought of losing Camille entirely.
But she didn't know how to be brave. Didn't know how to step into the light after decades in the shadows.
So she sat in her truck, alone with her choices, and watched the Phoenix Ridgesky bleed from gold to orange to red.
16
The ice had never felt so hostile.
Camille knew the Forest Vale Titans by reputation—a team that played on the edge of legal, that used intimidation and aggression as weapons just as much as skill. But knowing something intellectually and experiencing it physically were two entirely different things. Every shift since the opening face-off had been a battle, the kind of grinding, brutal hockey that left bruises on bruises and made every stride feel like climbing a mountain.
She was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.
Her muscles ached from the constant collisions, the endless battles along the boards where elbows found ribs and sticks found shins. She'd already taken two hard hits in the first period alone, both clean enough that the refs let them go, but punishing enough to leave bruises blooming beneath her pads. The Titans weren't trying to beat them—they were trying to break them.
Six days since Lou had driven away from her in the parking lot. Six days of silence, of professional distance on the ice, of Lou's gaze sliding past her like she was invisible.Six days of pretending everything was fine while her heart felt like it had been scraped raw.
The crowd noise washed over her as she set herself for another face-off—a wall of sound that she barely registered anymore. The Forest Vale center across from her was big, mean-looking, with a scar bisecting her eyebrow and a smile that promised violence.
The puck dropped.
Everything happened fast after that.
