“Thank you,” I say automatically, my voice high and cheerful. “I did my signature move.”
The woman laughs and keeps walking.
Tess hands me a cup of hot chocolate she somehow procured. She has the survival instincts of a woman who has run out of butter during a Saturday rush, and I clutch it like it’s medicine.
The warmth sinks into my gloves. My fingers uncoil slightly.
I take a sip and glance toward the ice, mostly to prove to myself I’m fine. To prove this was ok. That nothing strange happened.
The Grizzlies players are still out there, skating in lazy loops, interacting with fans between segments. They look like they belong to the rink the way some people belong to sunlight. Effortless. Inevitable.
I spot the guy who helped me almost immediately. Not because he’s doing anything flashy, he isn’t. He’s not waving dramatically or posing for photos. He’s just… there. Present. Talking to a kid at the boards, leaning down slightly so the kid can hear him through the glass.
He smiles at the kid, small and real, and something in my stomach flips, sharp and confusing.
I look away quickly.
I do not have time in my life to think about a mysterious hockey player with kind eyes and quiet competence. I have dough to laminate. Sheet pans to scrub. My car’s check engine light has been on since Thanksgiving.
Also, he’s a professional athlete. He’s a walking red flag in a jersey. Plus, I’m not his type. I’m not a type in general.
I take another sip of hot chocolate and stare resolutely at the cookie tray.
Leo leans in. “I think Zane liked you.”
“His name is Zane?” I ask, surprised. I’ve heard of Zane Miller on the Grizzlies before. He’s one of their star players. This can’t be him, right? I’ve never been that into ice hockey, so I didn’t recognize his face.
Leo grins. “It is. We met at a game my company sponsored.”
Tess’s gaze flicks to Leo. “Since when do you have hockey player friends?”
Leo’s grin doesn’t falter. “Since I learned how to make friends who can body-check people.”
Tess’s expression goes flat. “That’s not how friendship works.”
Leo shrugs. “It is for me.”
Tess takes my hot chocolate away gently before I can throw it at anyone.
Leo continues, apparently determined to dig his own grave. “I told Zane you were nervous. I told him to be nice. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” I repeat, my voice rising. Of course, he was nice because Leo told him to be.
“Yes,” Leo says, innocent.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You realize this is humiliating, right?”
Leo’s grin softens, just a fraction. “It’s not humiliating. He was kind. You did great.”
“I fell.”
“You fell and got back up,” Tess says, like it’s some kind of achievement. Like I’m supposed to get a sticker.
I open my mouth to argue. I can feel the bruise forming not just on my knee, but in my chest. That old, familiar ache of being seen at my worst and waiting for the laugh.
“Whatever,” I say, too quickly. “It’s done. I survived.”
Zane is skating away from the boards now, gliding backward as he talks to another player. His movements are easy, economical. He looks like he belongs to the rink in a way I will never belong to anything that requires balance.
