Page 28 of Fly

It wasn’t Cam.

“Took me a minute to catch up with you,” Tennant Rowe said.

I straightened instinctively. “Sorry. I… needed… space.”

“That’s fair,” he said easily. He stopped a few feet away, giving me space without making a show of it. “I wanted to say… It’s good to meet you, Jari. And I mean that.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard.

“I like your play,” he went on, calm and direct. “The way you read the penalty kill, how you don’t panic on a breakaway. Your January game against Toronto last season—you broke up that rush in the third and turned it the other way like it was nothing. I’ve been following your career for a while. You see lanes other guys miss.”

For a second, my brain stalled completely. I just stared at him, mouth open, words gone. Tennant Rowe was following my career.

He watched me, then let out a quiet breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay. I’m doing this wrong.” He tilted his head. “Jared said… Jared's my husband.”

“I know,” I said automatically, and then stopped talking, heat rushing up my face.

He smiled, softer now. “Yeah. He told me I should be straight with you.” Tennant’s gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “Your dad—what he did, what he was—that doesn’t fall on you. Okay?” He paused. “This team doesn’t work that way. Jared and I have both learned that people deserve to be judged by who they are in the room, not by the worst thing someone else did.” I felt sick as he paused, but then he smiled at me. ”I was worried when I first heard they were interested in you.”

“I’m sorry,” I began, suddenly distraught, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“Not in the way you think, Jari. The fans here are good and loyal, but they don't forget easily, and I’m worried about the barriers you’ll have to push down to get them to see your talent. Y'know, they'll learn when you score your first goal for their team, yeah? So, I’m really pleased you’re one of the Railers now,” he added.

“How can you say that?”

Oh god! Did I say that out loud?

“Why would I blame you for what your father did? This team is all about looking after our own. And you’re one of us now, and I know in my heart that you're nothing like your dad.”

Something tight in my chest shifted. Not gone. But lighter. “Thanks,” I managed.

“So, if you need to talk, or you want to do a promo with me to show the fans how I feel, then let Layton know, and he'll fix it. Okay?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Okay then, I’ll see you back in there.”

I didn’t look up until Cam’s voice cut in. “Hey. I saw Ten follow you out. You need me to⁠—”

I straightened too fast. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he said, and didn’t argue. He stood a few feet away, close enough to register, far enough not to crowd me. “I figured I’d check.”

I nodded, throat clenched. “That was… a lot. He said he… yeah…”

“Ten's a good guy,” he said, then hesitated. “He puts a lot of weight on this stuff—the charity, the culture, making sure people don’t get lost in the noise. It matters to him.” His kindness hit harder than it should have. “You don’t have to go back in right away.”

“I’m not running,” I said, sharper than I meant.

Cam’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t say you were.”

I exhaled slowly, the fight bleeding out of me. “But he's being all supportive and understanding and telling me what he sees in me, and it's too much.” Silence stretched—not awkward. Just space. “Did you know he saved my father's life in the Olympics by covering him when he was at the bottom of a pile, yet for all of that, my father still hates him,” I said finally, words low and rough. “Makes deals so I have to play hockey, tells me to hurt people, Jesus!” Why did that all tumble out?

“‘Deals’? What do you mean?”

Fuck. I never meant to say that. Why in God’s name did I say that? “Nothing,” I blurted because I wasn’t going there.

“Your father is just a man,” Cam said instead. “And you’re allowed to exist without carrying all his hate.”