Page 181 of On the Breakaway

“Huh?” I look up to find Nathan and Wyatt eyeing me. While Nathan looks confused, Wyatt’s expression is far more knowing than it should be.

“Whatever, man.” Nathan rolls his eyes, heading back toward the tunnel.

I move to do the same, but Wyatt blocks my path.

“Does Avery have anything to do with that?” He asks, pressing his hand into my chest when I try to walk by him.

Now this is really the last thing I need. Thinking about Avery and that asshole was bad enough, but Wyatt interrogating me about it is putting me on edge.

“What are you talking about?” My jaw works.

“Dude, Nathan mentioned Damon, and now it looks like you have murder on the brain.”

I go to walk around him again, but he steps in front of me.

“I don’t have murder on the brain, jackass. Can we drop it?”

“I can. Can you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what you and Avery have going on. Or what Avery and Damon had going on, but…”

I cut him off. “They have nothing going on.” The words come out harsh, but I can’t bring myself to rein them in.

“That’s my point. I don’t care about any of it. Not fucking tonight.” He steps back, shifting on his skates. “And you shouldn’t either. This is for the conference championship, you know that, right? We need you to be focused.”

“I am focused.”

“Bullshit. Leave your shit aside for twenty more minutes, okay?” He watches me carefully.

“Fine. Whatever,” I mumble, then push past him into the tunnel.

Almost everyone is already back on the ice, so I slow my pace to get my head back in the game.

Wyatt’s right.

I’ve lasted over three and a half games pretending Damon doesn’t exist, and I need to keep it that way a little longer. Sure, having Avery so close to me–so close to him–is making it a hell of a lot harder, but it’s fine. I’m fine.

I run the game stats through my head as I move through the tunnel, the roar of the crowd growing louder with every step, the noise vibrating through the concrete beneath my skates. As we line up, I think about Avery one final time before shoving every thought of her into a locked box in the back of my head, because right now the only thing that matters is ending this fucking series.

But five minutes in, and I’m failing miserably. Every time I glance toward the glass, my eyes find Avery, sitting exactly where she’s been all game and pretending not to notice me at all.

It’s logical. No one knows about us, and I knew she wasn’t going to show up in my jersey, even if I wished she would’ve. But having her watch the game, avoiding me, is distracting.

A part of me wishes she’d look at me the way she does when we’re alone. I wish she’d smile or roll her eyes. Give me anything.

But she won’t, because she’s petrified of what could happen if she lets herself love again. And the reason for that is skating around the ice, plowing into my teammates left and right.

My temper flares as I refocus on the game to make sure we send New York home as losers.

Midway through the period, Nathan wins a battle behind their net and throws the puck up the boards. Liam picks it up in stride, and when he gets moving, I know it’s going to end up in the back of the net. He dekes out two defenders and buries it, the red light flashing as the crowd goes insane over the first goal of the night.

I throw my arms up immediately. “Let’s fucking go!”

The goal should send the momentum swinging our way, but then I see Damon mock-waving to Avery, her face turning pale.

A raw anger comes to life in my stomach, and I completely lose focus, reading their offense too late and letting them slide a pass through the middle. I recover, but their winger is already behind me, and Wyatt might be the best goalie I’ve ever played with, but he can’t stop the shot that’s slotted into the bottom right corner.