“That’s cute, they match,” Noah says with a snort.
We break apart and I hoist her to keep her in my arms. “Let’s give it up for our true MVP.”
I steal Cam’s hat off his head and wave it in the air while we all whoop.
He laughs as the guys circle around him. Thankfully his injury wasn’t as bad as everyone worried it was. He was back in business for our final two games, on fire while defending the crease.
“You were on fire tonight,” Maya says.
“Thanks.” Cameron gives her a fist bump.
“What about me?” Noah prompts. “You saw that sick save I had in the second, right?”
She laughs. “No doubt.”
“And what about me?” I clasp her chin, drawing her attention back. “Your eyes were on me, weren’t they?”
Someone pretends to gag. She shakes her head, cradling my face as she bumps her nose with mine.
Her back pocket vibrates against my forearm. “Oh. Hang on, someone’s calling.”
She fishes out her phone while I keep her balanced in my arms. I spot her brother’s name on the screen and swipe it to answer with a cocky grin.
“Look at that, my rival’s called to congratulate me for making it to the playoffs.” I chuckle, wanting to bust his balls. “You’d better watch us when we win Frozen Four again, Donnelly.”
“What—Blake?” He’s far from amused, snapping at me seriously. “Put Maya on the phone,now.”
I blink at his demand, offering the phone back to her. “He’s not in a good mood.”
She huffs at my antics. “When is he ever? Hello? What’s up, Ry?” She listens for a moment, her joyful smile falling. “What?”
When she taps frantically to be let down, I set her feet on the ground, brows furrowing. She covers her mouth, features stricken.
“No.”
Worried, I rub her arm. “What is it?”
She shakes her head, hunching her shoulders as she turns away. The first spark of panic flickers to life as I follow her through the parking lot.
“When? I thought everything was b—” Her voice cracks with anguish.
It does me in. She hangs up, chest heaving with deep gulps of air as she digs through her purse. A jagged band of steel locks around my heart when she rips Reagan’s borrowed keys from the bag.
There’s no way I’m letting her drive in this state. A snowstorm just blew through the entire northeast, leaving the roads a wreck with black ice.
“Maya.” She’s not listening. I snatch the keys away, catching her when she tries to fight me for them. “Maya, stop. Just wait a second. Tell me what’s wrong.”
With a strangled gasp, her distraught gaze collides with mine. Her chin wobbles, breaking my fucking heart.
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me,” I encourage gently.
Her throat bobs. “It’s—it’s my grandpa. He’s dying.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I haul her into a hug, cradling the back of her head and neck, squeezing as I hush her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I—I can’t. Easton,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“Blake,” Coach Lombard calls.
