Tucker coasted in on cue, helmet crooked, grin wide. “Hey, Coach. Just checking. We cool with spectators now?”
Coach McAvoy didn’t answer. He just stared until Tucker’s grin faded and he pushed off toward the blue line.
Hunter skated past the crease and lifted his mask, sweat running down his neck. “If she’s staying, then I want Holly in here next week.”
The others jumped in on it, each giving their dream guest they wanted to bring to the next practice. Landon leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, voice pitched low enough that it stayed between us. “They’ll get bored. Eventually.”
“Doubtful,” I murmured.
His mouth tipped at one corner. “Still worth it, though, right?”
“If there’s even the slightest chance my holy grail is somewhere in this arena, then yes. Totally worth it.”
On the ice, sticks clacked as the guys gathered pucks and funneled toward the far end. The mood had shifted since the Winter Classic. I’d felt it in the stands that day, the way the crowd got behind them, choosing to believe instead of brace for the worst. Whatever they’d dragged back from Dallas had followed them home.
“Hey, Coach,” Grayson called. “Is Cross sitting out this round or what?”
Landon didn’t even turn. “Focus on your faceoffs, Captain.”
That earned a chorus of groans and one very specific insult I chose to pretend I hadn’t heard.
I tucked my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. My gaze bounced everywhere at once. The anniversary banners hanging from the rafters. The way the place bore scars up close, puck marks and chipped paint layered on top of each other. The sound of skates against ice from this angle, deeper and more physical than it ever was from the stands.
Someone fired a puck wide and it smacked the glass behind the bench, vibration rattling through the frame. I flinched and then laughed at myself, earning a glance from Landon that felt pleased and entirely unhelpful.
“This going in your next newsletter?” Mason asked, stopping in front of us again as Landon was getting ready to join the fray.
“Is it that obvious?”
He didn’t know my fan club was exactly one member in total, and I didn’t mind keeping it that way.
“You’re gripping the bench like it might disappear.”
“I waited tables through nursing school,” I said. “This is still better.”
Mason laughed and pushed off, calling over his shoulder, “She’s got jokes, man. Careful.”
They ran through the final set of drills until sweat dripped off them. I wasn’t aware of time passing, just that I kept pinching myself every few seconds to make sure this was all real. Then Coach blew his whistle, and pointed toward the locker room. Helmets came off. Gloves got tossed onto the bench in a scatter that forced me to pull my legs back again.
Landon stood, towering in front of me for a beat, blocking my view of the ice entirely. “You good?”
I looked past him at the emptying rink, at the scrape of the Zamboni door opening, at the last puck rolling to a stop near center.
“I’m more than good,” I said. “I’m never shutting up about this.”
He huffed a laugh and held a hand out without ceremony. I took it, and let him pull me to my feet as the bench cleared and the rink finally exhaled.
The hallway outside the locker room stayed busy even after practice cleared. Equipment carts rattled past, a trainer ducked into the room with a laundry bin the size of my kitchen. I stood near the wall where the concrete changed color, counting breaths and pretending I wasn’t crawling out of my skin with excitement.
The door swung open and Landon stepped out, hair still damp but from a shower this time, so he smelled like spring rain. His t-shirt clung across the muscular expanse of his shoulders, followed by a stifling billow of steam that made him look even more ethereal.
I swallowed back the stupid lump in my throat and forced a casual smile. Or at least, I hoped it looked casual. The answer was no, and I had to be fine with that.
“Ready for a treasure hunt?” he asked, hiking his gym bag higher on his shoulder.
“You have no idea.”
He started down the hallway and I fell in step beside him, my stride adjusting to his without thinking about it. The place felt different now that the noise from the rink had faded. Every sound echoed.
