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"Yeah."

"You open it?"

She looks down at her pass.

"No. I’m not ready."

I nod.

For a second, neither of us speaks. There are voices down the hall, a cart rattling somewhere behind the service doors. In a few minutes, I have to get back on the ice.

Last night, I let the clock make my decisions.

I’m done with that.

"Baylor, I can’t do this."

She looks up quickly. "What do you mean you can’t do this? Can’t do what?"

I take her hand before she can step away.

"I can’t go home tonight and pretend I’m fine with you being downstairs. I’m not."

Her fingers close around mine.

"Wolf—"

"I know they hate me. I know I earned a lot of that. But I have to try."

"Try what?"

"Would you let me ask your parents to dinner tomorrow night?"

She stares at me.

"So we can talk," I continue. "I can apologize. They can ask me whatever the hell they want. I’m not expecting them to forget what happened just because I buy them dinner but I have to try something."

"You’d do that?"

"To keep you from moving downstairs, I’d try anything."

"My dad might not even let you finish, but my mom knows. I think I might be able to get her to understand… maybe. If I could get her on our side, she could help at least."

"We’ll go somewhere expensive where your dad can’t make a scene. He’ll have to hear me out."

A small laugh escapes her, but her eyes are wet.

"I’m serious," I tell her.

"I know. I just…" She looks down at our hands, then back at me. "They aren’t going to see you the way I do."

"Maybe not tomorrow."

"And Boston?"

"I don’t know."

She swallows.