Page 298 of Faking the Goal

"Really." I squeeze his hand. "It can wait."

Because it can.

I want to tell him. God, I want to tell him now. But not like this, with half his team about to come through those doors and interrupt us before we can get more than a few words out. This conversation is too important—and way too overdue—to be rushed between teammates arriving for practice.

When I tell Kentaro how I feel, I want us to have all the time in the world to finally say everything we've been holding back and figure out what we really are to each other.

So I can wait a little longer.

CHAPTER 38

TAYLOR

The team trickles onto the charter bus one by one, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, all dressed in matching Ridgewater Warriors travel quarter-zips embroidered with the team logo over the left chest and navy joggers. Their sticks and equipment had already been loaded earlier, leaving only the players themselves to shuffle aboard, some yawning through the early hour, others teasing each other loud enough to echo across the nearly empty parking lot outside the arena.

Caroline and I wait beside the bus, bundled against the cool morning breeze while saying our goodbyes before they head to the airport.

A few moments later, Zach steps through the arena doors with Elijah beside him.

Even from here, I can tell neither of them slept much.

Elijah's phone is already in his hand, his thumb moving across the screen before he's even halfway to the bus. Probably another text to Sam.

She'd just finished her second cycle of aggressive treatment, and everyone could see the toll it had taken—not just on her, but on him too. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper every day, and Zach wasn't doing much better. Neither of them wanted to leave her, especially before such an important stretch of conference games, but Sam, despite looking like a strong gust of wind could knock her over these days, had stubbornly insisted they go.

"The team needs you more than it needs another person hovering over my hospital bed," she'd apparently told them.

That sounded exactly like Sam.

Elijah gives Caroline and me a small nod as he climbs onto the bus, never looking up from his phone.

Caroline immediately walks over to Zach, wrapping both arms around his waist. I can't hear what she's whispering to him, but judging by the way she rubs comforting circles over his back, I'm guessing she's telling him not to worry so much. That Sam is tougher than all of us put together.

Then the arena doors slide open again.

Out walks my grump.

Kentaro's expression is the exact same one he wears before every big game—that permanent scowl people mistake for game-day focus.

Everyone else probably thinks he's mentally preparing for tonight.

I know better.

That face has nothing to do with hockey.

He's pouting.

He's upset because he has to leave.

He's upset because I won't be on the trip with him.

Most of all, he's upset because he'll be hundreds of miles away while Charlie could be anywhere.

Knowing Kentaro, he's probably already imagined seventeen different worst-case scenarios before breakfast.

"There's my grump," I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice as I slip my arms around his neck.

His arms circle my waist immediately, as automatic as breathing.