"Me too." Elise's voice was quiet. "Goodnight, Sienna."
Her name in Elise's mouth. Still warm. Still devastating.
"Goodnight."
She walked down the stairs and out into the evening air. The street was dark and quiet, the trees rustling overhead.
She got into her car and sat in the driver's seat with her hands on the wheel and her forehead pressed against the backs of her fingers. The car smelled of fabric freshener and the ghost of the Japanese food, ginger and soy, and the dashboard clockglowed green in the dark. Eight forty-seven. She'd been in Elise's apartment for two hours and twelve minutes and it was the best evening she'd had in years and she'd ruined it.
No. She'd protected it. She'd done what a responsible physician does when a patient crosses a boundary. She'd maintained the professional framework that protected both of them. She'd been ethical and principled and correct.
And Elise's face when she'd pulled away. The hope draining out of it like water from a cracked glass. The practised blankness that replaced it, the athlete's mask, built for cameras and post-game interviews and moments when the thing you're feeling is too raw to let anyone see.
Sienna pressed her fingers against her eyelids until she saw colours. The car was quiet. The street was quiet. Everything was quiet except the low roar inside her chest, which was not quiet at all. It was the sound of twenty years of restraint rattling its cage, and for the first time, the lock didn't feel strong enough to hold.
She had done the right thing.
Her hands were still shaking when she started the engine.
10
ELISE
The locker room was loud with pre-game energy and Elise had no business being in it.
She stood near the door with her back against the wall, watching the team prepare. Lou sat on the bench with her head down, elbows on her knees, in the still, focused silence that meant she was running the game through her head. Camille was taping her own stick, tongue between her teeth, moving with quick, expert hands. Frankie was pacing the narrow aisle between the lockers, bouncing on the balls of her feet, too wired to sit. Dani was already dressed, leaning back with her goalie pads on and her grey eyes closed, breathing slowly. Rowan was re-lacing her skates for the third time, her light hair pulled back tight.
Lex was stretching in the centre of the room, her legs spread wide on the floor, folding forward effortlessly. She'd never had to worry about a torn labrum. Her dark hair fell across her face and she pushed it back with one hand and caught Elise's eye and grinned.
"You good, Moreno?"
"I'm great."
She was not great. She was standing in a locker room she used to own, wearing jeans and a team zip-up instead of pads and a jersey, watching her teammates prepare for a game she couldn't play. The room smelled of deep heat and stick wax and the metallic edge of arena air that she used to inhale like oxygen. Music thumped from Frankie's speaker, bass-heavy and driving, the pre-game playlist she'd been using since the qualification season.
Elise had come because Mara had asked, and because she was trying to be the steady, supportive teammate everyone expected her to be. But the steadiness was a performance.
Elise had barely slept. She'd lain in bed watching the candles burn down to nothing, replaying the flinch. Sienna pulling away, sharp and full-body, as if Elise's mouth had been a threat instead of an invitation.I can't. You're my patient.
The worst part was that she believed Sienna had felt it too. The closeness on the sofa had been mutual. Both of them leaning in. Both of them choosing to sit that close. And Sienna had still pulled away, because she was someone who would always choose what she'd decided was right over what she wanted.
Which meant the feeling was real and it didn't matter. And now Elise had to sit three feet from her on the team bench and pretend everything was fine.
"Moreno." Mara appeared in the doorway, sharp-eyed and focused. "Team bench. Let's go."
The arena was packed. The Valkyries' second PWHL season had brought bigger crowds, louder noise, more energy. The lights were bright on the ice, the surface gleaming and unmarked, and the boards rattled with the bass of the music pumping through the speakers. Elise walked out of the tunnel and through the bench door, and the cold hit her face and the smell of the ice hit her lungs and both of them made her chest ache.
She'd been standing at the end of the bench, looking for a seat that wasn't next to the medical staff, when Mara came through behind her.
"Move up," Mara said, gesturing past Elise toward the far end. "I need the end seat for substitutions."
Elise moved up. And up. Past Helen, who was sitting with a clipboard and a thermos. Past the assistant coach, who was studying a tablet. To the only remaining seat on the bench, which was directly beside Sienna.
Sienna was already in her usual seat, in her team jacket and dark trousers, medical bag beneath the bench, her glasses catching the arena lights. She was looking at her phone when Elise sat down and she glanced up and their eyes met and the expression on her face was a masterclass in controlled neutrality.
"Hi," Elise said.
"Hi."
