As soon as my skates hit solid ground, I turn to face him.
“Thank you,” I say. “Seriously. You saved my life.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Anytime.”
I hesitate. “I’m Gwen.”
His eyebrows lift slightly, like he’s pleased. “Nice to meet you, Gwen. This was fun.”
He doesn’t offer his name.
I wait a beat.
Nothing.
Interesting.
“Well,” I say, gesturing vaguely at the ice, “if you ever need someone to dramatically lower expectations, I’m your girl.”
He laughs real and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Behind me, Leo makes a choking noise.
I turn.
He’s red-faced, clutching his stomach like he’s run a marathon fueled entirely by secondhand joy. Tess stands beside him, one hand on his back, the other gripping his sleeve like she’s restraining an animal.
“You’re alive,” Leo says breathlessly. “I knew it.”
I glare at him. “You are on thin ice.”
“Pun intended?” he asks hopefully.
“No.”
He winces. “Worth it.”
I turn back to the Grizzlies player, suddenly aware that this moment is ending, that whatever bubble existed on the ice is popping, replaced by noise, people, and reality.
“Well,” I say. “I should probably go… sit down. And ice my dignity.”
He runs his fingers through his brown hair and nods. “Good plan.”
He pauses, then adds, “You did great.”
The way he says it, simple, sincere, no qualifiers, lands somewhere deep.
“Thanks,” I say again, quieter this time.
He gives me one last small smile, then pushes off, gliding back onto the ice with effortless grace that feels like showing off, even though I know it’s not meant to be.
“See you later, man,” he says to Leo.
I watch him go for half a second longer than necessary.
“You know him?” I ask Leo, shocked.
“Who?” he replies.
