Kade coasts over, already frowning. “Why would she be here and this early at that?”
“Why the hell are you looking at me like I know?” I snap. “She’s not here for me.”
Talon snorts as he glides past. “Didn’t say she was.”
Owen stops beside me, eyes flicking briefly toward the stands before returning to me. “Then why’s she sitting through warm-ups instead of sleeping in before class like a normal person?”
I miss the next shot. The puck slides wide of the post.
“Jesus,” Talon mutters. “You’re killing me today.”
I reset, settling back into my stance. “Maybe she likes hockey.”
“On a Friday morning?” Kade asks, circling back. “After working a bar until close?”
“That’s not impossible,” I shoot back.
“No,” Talon says evenly. “But it’s not exactly normal either.”
That hits me harder than it should.
We move through the next drill and the next. I force myself to lock in, but everything feels a beat off. I’m late getting set, and every save comes a fraction behind where it should be.
I glance up again despite myself.
She’s still there. Not checking or scrolling on her phone. Not waiting for anyone else. Just watching practice like it matters.
That’s what gets me.
The guys are right. People don’t sit in on practice for no reason.
Kade coasts by again, voice low. “If she’s not here to talk to you, what other reason would she have to sit in on practice?”
“Why are you asking me? I don’t know much about her, apart from her name—Brinley,” I say. “Sasha mentioned it was her first night. Some guy was being a dick, so I stepped in. That’s it.”
Kade’s brows lift for half a second.
Talon hums quietly, clearly unconvinced.
When we finally wrap up, I don’t rush off the ice like usual. It’s just a couple of guys stretching now and me. Coach is still out here, talking to Kade, and I catch Kade’s gaze flicking toward me like he knows exactly why I’m lingering.
By the time I skate off, I’ve already decided what to do.
I pretend I’m not stealing one last look as I head for the locker room, already deciding I’ll shower and come back out to talk to her.
The locker room fills with steam and noise—guys chirping, laughter bouncing off the walls—but my head is still out on the ice. I strip out of my gear, shower fast, tug on a hoodie and jeans, and lace my shoes quicker than usual.
Talon clocks it. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just got somewhere I need to be.”
He nods and lets it go.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out, tension coiling in my chest. I already know what I’ll say if she’s still there.
Didn’t expect to see you here. Everything okay?
Not asking why she was here or bringing up last night. Nothing that might send her walls shooting up.
