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Received.

The breath I'd been holding escaped slowly.

For a few seconds, relief actually came.

The money was gone, Max was safe, and tomorrow I'd figure out how to deal with everything else. I didn't know how I was going to explain the sudden distance to him or how long I could keep pretending I didn't want what we'd started, but at least I'd bought myself time.

Maybe after the playoffs.

Maybe once the Melanie story finally burned itself out.

Maybe I could find a way to deal with Dad permanently before Max ever had to know.

My phone vibrated again.

Your captain must be worth a lot to you.

The relief drained away so quickly that I felt cold.

A second message followed.

Good to know.

I read those three words again because some part of me desperately wanted them to mean something other than what they did.

They didn't.

I'd spent the entire day convincing myself that if I found the money, I'd protect Max. I'd lied to him, pushed him away, and paid my father five times the amount he'd normally demanded because I'd believed that was the price of keeping the video out of Max's hands.

Except I'd paid too quickly.

I'd given Dad exactly what he'd asked for despite telling him I couldn't, and in doing so, I'd answered the only question he'd really been asking.

How much did Max matter?

Enough to frighten me.

Enough to control me.

And enough that Dad now knew exactly where to press the next time he wanted something.

Paying him hadn't protected Max at all.

It had taught my father that threatening him worked.

Chapter twelve

Captain - The player designated as a team's on-ice leader and official representative to the referees.

Max

By four o’clock, I’d discovered there were apparently limits to how much space I was capable of giving someone before it started to feel like voluntary organ removal.

Ash had asked for it, so I’d given it to him because that was what decent people did when someone said they needed space, even when every instinct they possessed was screaming that something was badly wrong.

I hadn’t followed him around demanding explanations, sent increasingly pathetic text messages, manufactured reasons to sit beside him during video, or cornered him somewhere private and asked why twelve hours had apparently been enough to change everything between us.

When we’d ended up in the same room, I’d treated him exactly as I would any other teammate.