I took my time getting ready for bed. The foot felt fine. No swelling, no pain, nothing to show I’d made amistake coming back when I did. Physically, I was ready.
Mentally? That was a different question.
I thought about that split second of hesitation. The way I’d tested my weight, checked for damage, let fear dictate my reaction. Professional hockey players couldn’t play like that. Couldn’t second-guess every hit, every movement. The game was too fast. I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt and climbed into bed. The room felt cavernous, empty. I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come.
My phone buzzed.
Étienne
What’s your room number?
My heart rate picked up immediately.
Marco
Why?
Étienne
I need to see you.
Everything in me went still. We couldn’t do this. It was after midnight. Most of the team would be settled for the night. If someone saw him coming to my room late at night, it would raise questions. Best friends or not, showing up at each other’s hotel rooms that late looked suspicious. Like we couldn’t even spend one night apart.
Which, to be fair, we apparently couldn’t.
But Christ, I wanted to see him.
Marco
Étienne, no.
Étienne
Please. Just for a few minutes. I have to see you.
I stared at the message. The hallways would be mostly empty. Risky, but not impossible.
Marco
What room are you in?
Étienne
538.
I pulled on a hoodie, grabbed my key card, and slipped out into the hallway.
The hotel was quiet. I took the stairs instead of the elevator—less chance of running into anyone—and emerged on the fifth floor. Room 538 was in the middle of the hall. I checked both directions, saw no one, and knocked quietly.
The door opened immediately.
Étienne stood there in sleep pants and a T-shirt, his hair mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it, his eyes dark and troubled. He stepped back without a word, letting me in.
I moved inside quickly, and he closed the door behind me and engaged the security latch.
For a long moment, we just looked at each other.
“What’s wrong?” I kept my voice low, even though we were alone.
