Summer shrugs and grins. “Yeah, maybe, but it’s out there now. No more secrets.”
The final horn sounds again. The Kings pour off the ice, the arena pulsing with victory. My phone buzzes in my pocket with another message I’m not ready to answer.
The truth’s out. There’s no taking it back.
And somehow, that’s both the best and scariest feeling in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clay
The horn’s still ringing in my chest as I shove through the gate and head down the tunnel, the boards rattling behind me. The crowd’s roar follows, that damn chant pounding in my head like a bruise that won’t fade.
Hot-head Bar-lowe. Hot-head Bar-lowe.
No matter how far I walk, I can’t shake it.
We won. The guys played hard and executed everything we’ve been working on. But all I can focus on are those cheap hits. The refs were looking the other way the whole night. The Hawks' bench was smirking like they got what they wanted every time. My jaw locks so tight I can practically taste blood.
The tunnel feels colder than the ice, but the heat of my skin is molten. My breath comes out hard, fogging the air. The cinderblock walls close in, every sound echoing too loudly around me.
I rip my clipboard from under my arm and hurl it against the wall. It smacks the concrete, papers scattering across the floor, the sound sharp enough to split through the noise in my head. I drag a hand down my face, but it does nothing to cool me down.
I’ve been here before. I’ve heard the locker room talk and the condescending comments in post-game pressers. I’m one breath away from losing it. I can already hear how they’ll write it if I do.
The words loop in my head until I want to tear my hair out by the roots. Every article, every smug voice waiting for me to fail.
And God help me, part of me wants to give in just to let them prove they were right.
The sound of footsteps behind me breaks through my thoughts, and I turn, my chest still heaving.
Tessa slips past the staff and trainers, moving quickly toward me. Her hair’s a little wild from the crowd, cheeks pink from the cold, scarf loose around her neck. She’s out of place here in this dimly lit tunnel, but something about seeing her calms me in a way no one else could.
“Don’t,” she says, cutting straight through the noise in my head. “Don’t you dare give them what they came for. Don’t you let them tear you down.”
I go still. My pulse pounds so hard it hurts. Every muscle in me is strung tight, but her words douse the fire in me like cold water over flame.
She didn’t flinch when she saw the heat from the anger rolling off me. She doesn’t care about the headlines or my past screwups. She looks at me like I’m more than the rumors and my tarnished reputation make me out to be.
My shoulders drop, heavy with the weight of it. The tension bleeds out of me, one breath at a time.
“Jesus, Tess…” My voice comes out rough. “You don’t know how close I was.”
Her hand stays on my arm, warm against the chill seeping through my jacket. She steps closer, and the faint scent of her shampoo, mixed with vanilla, cuts through the stale air of sweat.
For the first time all night, I can breathe. The noise from the arena fades behind the concrete walls. My pulse slows, and my chest loosens.
“You’ve got that look again, Sug,” I murmur, the nickname slipping out before I can stop it. My mouth pulls into a smirk. “The one that makes me forget I’m supposed to keep it together.”
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. The light in her eyes dims, like she wanted to be happy before her reason for finding me comes back to the center.
“Clay…” she says softly, fingers tightening around my sleeve. “Before you go out there, there’s something you need to know.”
The shift in her voice makes me straighten. “What is it?”
She glances toward the end of the hallway, where staff and media are already gathering. When she looks back, her throat works like she’s bracing herself.
“The secret’s out,” she says quietly. “About us.”
