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Haley linked our arms again. “We can wait in the family lounge.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Ellie. Come on. Crim will be happy to see you.”

That was true. I’d barely thought about my brother, and he’d played amazingly tonight.

I let myself be led through the concourse and down a corridor to a comfortable lounge with sofas, a TV, and a coffee station. Other wives, girlfriends, and two boyfriends were already there, celebrating.

Someone turned on the TV. Post-game highlights played, including all three goals against Brashe. I couldn’t watch. I pulled the hoodie tighter around myself and wished I could disappear into it.

“Ellie.”

Crim stood in the doorway, still in his gear minus his skates and gloves. His gaze found me immediately, and he jerked his head toward the hallway.

I followed him to a quiet corner a bit down the hall.

Crim leaned against the wall, studying me with the same focus he used on the ice. “He thinks he let everyone down.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “He didn’t. You won.”

“That’s not the point. In his head, he failed.”

“That’s not—” I stopped. “I should go. Staying here will only make it worse.”

“El.”

“No, really. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have worn—” I gestured helplessly at the hoodie.

Crim caught my arm before I could leave. “Stop.”

I turned back, my eyes burning.

He was quiet for a long moment before he sighed. “Brashe hasn’t been able to think about anyone but you for a long time, and I told him to leave you alone, that you’d been hurt enough. But I was wrong.” His voice went quiet. “He’s been gone for you for nearly a year, El. He just doesn’t think he deserves you.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “He thinks his worth is in the net.”

“Yup. And tonight he thinks he proved he’s worthless.”

I’d seen it on his face when he sat on the bench.

Crim squeezed my shoulder. “The question is, are you brave enough to show him he’s wrong?”

I thought about that night, how he’d left at 4 AM because he’d wanted to do things right. How he’d been terrified of wanting too much, of being too much. When I’d asked him to stay, he’d looked at me like I’d offered him something wonderful.

That Brashe, the one who touched me like I was breakable and valuable at the same time, was the same one sitting on that bench thinking he’d failed everyone.

Being with him meant being with both versions. The confident goalie who could stop anything and the scared male who thought his only value was in saves.

I’d already chosen to see both when I’d asked him to stay.

And tonight, standing here in his hoodie while he thought he’d ruined everything? This was the same choice.

I looked up at my brother, the male who’d protected me at fourteen while I drowned in grief.

“What if I make it worse?” I forced the words out. “What if showing up was the problem? What if I’m⁠—”

“Don’t do that thing where you make yourself smaller because someone else is struggling.”