Page 11
Need to focus. No sloppy mistakes.
Henderson glided past, shooting me a curious look. “Head in the game, rookie.”
A flicker of annoyance. Fourth season in the league, but still the rookie here. I gave a sharp nod, gripping my stick tighter. Defensive zone coverage was all that mattered.
When Coach blew the whistle, ending the day’s practice, sweat plastered my hair to my forehead. My muscles screamed, less from exertion and more from the mental strain of not looking at Tyler every five seconds.
“Kogan, Bennett—a word.” Coach Ryan flagged us over to the bench.
Tyler skated up beside me, helmet off, expression neutral. But his eyes met mine for a brief second before landing on Coach.
Shit. Did he see something? My gut clenched. Were we that obvious?
“Whatever you two are doing, keep it up.” Coach’s directness caught me off guard. “Your defensive pairing is clicking better than I’ve seen since you got here, Kogan. That sequence in the penalty kill drill? Textbook communication and positioning.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. Textbook communication. He’d noticed. Of course, he did. Our chemistry was practically screaming across the ice.
Tyler nodded beside me. “We’ve been working on our timing.” His voice was steady, professional.
Coach Ryan’s gaze moved between us, shrewd. “Well, it shows. Chemistry like you’ve got is what makes successful D pairings. Build on it. But—” he looked directly at me—“always keep your focus out there. When you’re distracted, Kogan, it all falls apart.”
“Yes, Coach. Understood.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you two tomorrow morning, nine sharp.”
As we skated toward the tunnel, Tyler bumped my shoulder. A small smile played at his lips. “Chemistry, huh?”
I focused straight ahead. I couldn’t chance the look at him because then I might have to kiss him right here. “Shut up. He’s talking about hockey.”
“Sure he is.” Tyler winked as we reached the locker room. “See you inside.”
I paused, sucking in a deep breath before pushing through the door after him. The usual post-practice chaos hit me—loud chatter, Velcro loosening from chest protectors and shin guards. I took a seat at my stall and kept my head down, keeping my attention on getting out of my gear.
“That no-look pass to Bennett was sick, Kogan,” Petrov yelled from across the room. “You guys been practicing that?”
My neck felt hot. “Something like that.” I avoided Tyler’s eyes when I replied.
“Whatever it is, it’s working.” Petrov pulled off a skate. “You two are suddenly reading each other’s minds out there.”
How long until someone connected the dots? The ease with which Tyler deflected the attention, joking as he peeled off his jersey, only highlighted my awkwardness. He moved through the locker room, comfortable in his skin. Damn him for being so effortlessly cool.
The hot spray of the shower eased my tired muscles, but not the knot in my stomach. I leaned my forehead against the tile wall. This was getting complicated. We’d been careful—separate arrivals, no texting during team meetings, acting like nothing had changed.
But hockey players notice everything. Shifts in energy, the on-ice synergy Coach mentioned. How long could we keep this between us? Not that I wanted to hide it. But this was Tyler. A teammate. The stakes seemed impossibly high. If this went wrong…
* * *
Back at my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch. The lingering buzz from practice, the anxiety from the locker room—swirled inside me. My mind replayed Tyler’s wink at the tunnel entrance. That calm confidence. The heat that flared between us with just a glance.
God, I was falling hard. And fast. Too fast?
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from Meg. Maybe talking to her would help. I hit call.
“There’s my baby brother! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“Hey, Meg.” I sank deeper into the cushions. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. I’ve been busy.”
“Hmm.” Her suspicion radar went on high alert. “Busy with what, exactly? You sound different.”
