Elias glares at me. "Did you tell him?"
"No."
"I used my stalker skills," Dax says. "I've been trying to get you on the ice with me for two fucking years, bro." He shakes his head. "What the hell? This is dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty. Filthy, even. I don't like it."
"Well…" Elias shrugs, puts his helmet on, and passes the puck to Dax. "Let's go then. First to five. Saige will play goalie."
I'm shitty at my job—we both know that—but it doesn't really matter because Dax is good at his and Elias is that much better, even having not played in years. I'm not sure how good Dax was in high school, but he must have been decent. I know he played on the same team as Elias, and he was captain after he was gone.
If he's that good, Elias is elite. And there's not a damn thing wrong with his shoulder.
They finish 2-5.
"I went easy on you," Dax says, taking off his helmet. "You know, because that shoulder of yours is in such bad shape."
"Yeah, it's getting there," Elias says. "I'll ice it when we get back." He rolls it a few times and winces, but I know he's faking it. I haven't seen him do that since the first time he brought me here, and he's never iced it.
"All right." Dax slaps him hard on the back. "Good game. Fucking invite me next time—Jesus. We can even go during the day."
"I like not having an audience."
Dax scoffs. "Yeah? Since when?"
Elias shakes his head, laughing. Even if he started off pissed, I know he had fun. Hopefully, I won't have to go home and get my skates because I won't have to do this anymore. He can practice with Dax.
Elias doesn't speak a word to me after that. When we walk out to the parking lot, Dax takes my hand and steers me toward his car.
I get a look from Elias, but what does he expect? Did he think I'd tell Dax I wanted to go with him instead?
"Saige, that was crazy," Dax says when we get in the car. "I was not expecting that at all—you said it wasn't even a good secret."
"It isn't a good secret."
"It's areallygood secret! I cannotbelieveyou kept that secret from me."
"It's not like I wanted to."
"How did you get him to play?"
"I didn't. I didn't do anything. I don't care if he plays."
"Nolan is going to die when I tell him."
We pull into the garage, and Elias parks in the driveway behind us. He barely looks at me when he passes on his way inside, a far cry from the usual deeply unsettling drive-by stares that last far too long.
I follow him inside, Dax behind me. It's almost five in the morning now, and instead of going to bed, Elias lies on the too-small couch with his feet hanging over the edge. He flips on the television and pets Arcadia's head before she stretches out on the floor next to him.
"You're insane for staying up," Dax says, taking my hand in his. "I'm about to drop dead."
"I'm not tired. I'll sleep this afternoon before the party," he grumbles, his tone more devoid of emotion than usual.
"All right. Let's go, Saige."
I watch Elias's jaw flex before he runs his fingers through his hair. I try to ignore it—I don't even know why I care—but I stop and turn back to him. "Elias? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Saige. Why the fuck wouldn't I be?"
I huff, shaking my head. I don't know why I'd expect anything different. "You know what? I believe you. You don't care, Elias."
