Tane and Jacob walked side by side, no particular destination, no rush.
No drinking. No parties.
Just the two of them, jackets zipped against the wind, breath fogging in the streetlight glow.
Tane had suggested the walk the moment they left the arena. Jacob hadn’t argued. After the high of the win, the adrenaline crash had left them both raw—bodies aching, minds spinning. A slow loop through the downtown core felt like the only thing that might settle the noise.
They turned onto a quieter avenue lined with closed boutiques and the occasional twenty-four-hour diner. The sidewalks were damp from an earlier shower; their footsteps echoed softly.
Tane broke the silence first.
“You see anything off with the younger guys lately?” Tane asked, keeping his tone casual. “Anyone acting squirrelly? Asking weird questions? Hanging around people they shouldn’t?”
Jacob’s stride hitched for half a step. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
“No,” he said after a moment. “Nothing obvious. A couple of the rookies are always on their phones, but that’s normal. TikTok, Snapchat, whatever. No one’s acting like they’re hiding something big.” He glanced sideways at Tane. “Why? You think the FBI thing Antonio mentioned to you is real?”
Tane exhaled through his nose, watching the vapor curl and vanish.
“I think Antonio doesn’t say shit like that unless he’s got smoke,” Tane answered. “Doesn’t mean there’s fire yet, but we stay sharp.”
Jacob nodded, but his shoulders stayed tight.
They walked another block in silence before he spoke again.
“I keep thinking about what happens if they really do lean on someone,” he said quietly. “One of the kids. Or…me. I’m not exactly low-profile. If someone wanted to get close, they could.”
Tane slowed, then stopped under the awning of a darkened bookstore. Jacob stopped too, facing him.
“You’re worried about more Cardini business,” Tane said. A statement, not a question.
Jacob looked down at his sneakers, scuffing one toe against the wet pavement.
“I’m worried aboutanymore Cardini business,” Jacob admitted. “I get that they own the team. I get that we’re…protected. But every time something like this comes up… meetings in the woods, warnings, “keep your ear to theground”… it feels heavier. Like we’re not just playing hockey anymore. We’re part of something else. And I don’t know if I’m built for that.”
Tane studied him for a long moment: the way Jacob’s jaw worked, the flicker of fear in his eyes that he was trying so hard to hide.
“You’ll get used to it,” Tane said gently. “Not the fear part. The balance. Knowing where the line is, when to step over it, when to stay back. You’re already doing it better than most guys twice your age.”
Jacob gave a small, dry laugh. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
Tane reached out, tipping Jacob’s chin up with two fingers until their eyes met.
“When my dad got sick,” Tane said, voice low. “The Cardinis stepped in. Full coverage. Best oncologists, private nurses, experimental trials no one else could get. They didn’t have to. My dad wasn’t a player, wasn’t even on the payroll. But he was my dad. And they gave him three extra years. Good years. Three years we wouldn’t have had otherwise. He got to see me lift the Cup in “21. Got to meet the guys. Got to be proud.”
Tane let the words settle between them.
“I’m not saying the family are saints,” Tane continued. “Fuck no. They do bad things.Realbad things. But there’s an upside too. Loyalty runs both ways with them. You give it, they give it back. Harder than anyone else will.”
Jacob swallowed. His eyes were glassy now—not tears, not quite, but close.
“I’m scared,” Jacob said simply. “Not of them hurting me. Of… losing who I am. Of turning into someone who looks the other way because it’s easier.”
Tane’s hand slid from Jacob’s chin to the side of his neck, thumb brushing the pulse point there.
“You won’t,” he said. “Because I’m right here. And I’m not letting that happen. Not on my watch. Not under my guard.Never.”
Jacob searched his face for a long beat, then gave the smallest nod.
