That was the part that made it difficult.
He crouched to speak to kids at their level. He signed jerseys, programs, a hat from another team, and one small girl’s cast while asking her how she’d broken her arm and listening like the answer mattered. He smiled for photos. He thanked donors by name after Tessa murmured reminders near his shoulder. He turned on the effortless charm people expected from him and gave the room exactly enough.
Not too much.
Not the truth.
I watched from across the ballroom and hated the pride that moved through me.
I hated more that I could tell he hadn’t touched the plate in his hand.
Roman noticed before the first hour ended.
He stood near the silent auction table with a glass of club soda, expression neutral, eyes not. He looked from Jace to me and back again with the patient suspicion of a goalie tracking the puck through traffic. Roman saw patterns other people missed. It was one of the reasons he had lasted this long in the league.
Jace laughed at something a kid said, then glanced toward me.
Brief. Automatic. Damning if anyone knew what to look for.
Roman’s attention sharpened.
Tessa appeared at my side with a clipboard tucked against her hip and the expression of a woman who had already solved four problems and had no patience left for a fifth. “Alpine Capital wants five minutes before the youth program speech.”
“When?”
“In about ninety seconds. Also, Holloway’s holding up, but he’s close to done.”
“I know.”
Her gaze cut to me. Fast, precise. “Of course.”
Before I could respond, a hand touched my arm.
I turned and found Vanessa Cole smiling up at me in a cream dress, polished enough to look lit from the inside. A sponsor badge hung from a gold chain around her neck.
“Coach Reid,” she said. “Good to see you somewhere without ice.”
“You too.”
Her gaze slid past me.
To Jace.
He saw her at almost the same moment.
His expression didn’t collapse. Jace was too practiced for that. But his smile faltered, and his eyes went blank in a way I recognized now. The sudden inventory. Did she say she was coming? Did he miss a text? Where was his phone? Had he answered? What else had slipped?
Vanessa lifted her hand.
Jace handed a signed jersey back to a boy, said something to the parents, and came toward us.
He kissed her cheek.
She angled into him naturally, like she knew where the cameras were even when she wasn’t looking. His hand hovered at her waist, rested lightly for a second, then fell away.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said.
“I texted you.” Her smile stayed pretty, but her voice softened into something private. Not angry. Hurt, maybe. Annoyed. “Lark and Lyle are sponsoring a table. They invited me.”
