He was right, but I couldn’t stop picturing Rory’s little face all scrunched up and red from crying.
The third period was pure chaos. Denver Tech came out flying, and I nearly cost us the game when I turned the puck over right in front of our own net. Gordy somehow got his glove on the shot, and Liam cleared the rebound.
With five minutes left, Foster scored the game-winner. We held on to win 3-2, but it felt like we’d barely survived.
I’d played like complete garbage, and everyone knew it.
The locker room had a weird energy after the game. We’d won, but it felt hollow. Nobody was celebrating, and the relief was mixed with frustration. Coach gave us a briefspeech about grinding out wins even when we weren’t at our best, then left us alone.
I sat on the bench, still in most of my gear, staring at my skates. We’d won, but I’d nearly cost us the game multiple times.
I could practically feel Liam’s frustration with me rolling off him in waves as he pulled off his jersey next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
He let out a heavy sigh and sat on the bench, lowering his voice. “Look, man, I know you’ve got a fuck ton on your plate. I know you’re exhausted and worried about her, but what happened out there was a fucking shit show.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “I know.”
“You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing before. Why couldn’t you do that tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
It was such a lame comment to make. But I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t get my head in the game when it had never been an issue before. All my life, I’d been able to leave whatever shit was going on at the edge of the rink and focus on the game.
But with Rory, it was different, and I didn’t know how to explain it to him.
Before I could try, Jake’s voice cut through our quiet conversation.
“I bet I know what’s got Monty all twisted up,” he called out, grinning like he’d solved some great mystery.
Several heads turned our way, and I felt my stomach drop. Did they know about the baby? We’d been keeping it under wraps and I thought we’d been successful, but now I wasn’t sure.
“It’s Harper Tinsley, isn’t it?” Jake continued. “All that tension from your psych project is finally getting to you.”
A few guys started laughing, and I opened my mouth to correct him, then stopped. Jake was in that class, so I wasn’t surprised he knew Harper and I had been paired together. I looked around the room at my teammates nodding as if they could see why that might impact my performance. If they thought my shitty game play was about Harper instead of the baby, maybe that was better.
“Oh shit, Monty,” Dylan chimed in. “You got paired with Tinsley? You guys are gonna kill each other.”
I didn’t confirm it, but I didn’t deny it either. Let them think what they wanted.
“I’m telling you,” Jake said, warming up to his theory, “there’s something there. All that hate? That’s just sexual tension.”
“Fuck off,” I said. Sexual tension? Between me and Tinsley? Dude had to be high as a kite.
“Seriously,” Jake pressed. “All that bickering and pranks you pull on each other. It’s like weird foreplay. I bet you’ll hook up before the semester’s over.”
“That’s never happening.”
“Never?” Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Come on, man. All that fire between you two? That’s gotta go somewhere.”
“There is no universe where Harper Tinsley and I hook up,” I said firmly. “None. I’d bet everything I have on it.”
The locker room went quiet for a moment, and I realized how serious I’d sounded. But I meant it. There was no way anything would happen between Harper and me. Not even if she was the last woman on earth.
“Alright, alright,” Jake said finally. “We get it. You hate Harper Tinsley.”
But as I finished changing and headed out, I couldn’tshake the feeling that I’d just said something that would come back to haunt me. Not because anything would happen between Harper and me—that was still impossible—but because my teammates had a talent for turning everything into a bigger deal than it needed to be.
