“Who says I’m hanging onto it?”
He tugs his helmet off. “Your face. We all lose control at some point.”
I grudgingly nod. “It’s complicated.”
“Doesn’t need to be, Jammer. Just let it roll. It all works out in the end.”
I wish I could share his optimism. Never been my strong suit and after the accident, I think I quit trying. Kinsley pointed out that I don’t engage when she talks about Mom, that I simply grunt. When did I turn into a grump with a hefty touch of cynicism?
And look where it got me? Somewhat humiliated and choking down a serving of humble pie.
I follow behind Wade as we leave the ice and head down the tunnel to the locker room. When we reach the fork that branches toward the guest locker room, I catch a glimpse of the other team’s captain near the entrance. I wave to grab his attention.
He waddles my direction as I approach him. I can already see a welt forming on the side of his jaw from the one punch I landed, which makes me feel lower than low.
I shift my helmet to my left hand and hold out my right one. “Sorry for the punch. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”
The weight in my chest lifts some when he accepts my shake. “No worries, but I appreciate it.”
We give each other nodsto affirm we’re good, then I turn around and find Gabe standing at the fork of the tunnel, hands in his pockets and a concerned expression on his face.
I head his way as fast as my skates will let me. “I screwed up, Coach. Sorry.”
He raises his chin in the direction of the opposing team’s locker room door. “You made good. That counts.”
“Thanks.” When I move past him, he stops me.
“Tampa’s GM was here to watch you play. I didn’t know until near the end. I told him it was an off night for you.”
The weight of his revelation feels like a slam against the boards. And the post-game body aches have nothing on the one spreading in my chest. And Gabe’s not saying anything more.
I hang my head for a moment. “Did I blow my chance?”
He rubs a hand across his mouth. “I don’t think so. I’ll let him know you made a point to apologize without being asked. That should hold some weight.”
I give him a resigned nod. “Thanks, Coach.”
He slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Wanna tell me what that fight was really about?”
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
But as I waddle toward the locker room, it’s not jeopardizing my shot with Tampa Bay Lightning that has me twisted up inside.
I’m just going to call her.
And I should. A text is no way to tell someone you’re not interested in dating them. Which, technically, isn’t true. I very much want to date Sophie…and more. She’s like a drug, and I’m having some serious withdrawals.
Maybe I should go to her place. Show up on her doorstep like the guys in those goofy romcoms my sister likes. Kins ropedme into watching one with her when she was here last. I never imagined my kid sister to be such a romantic.
With my mind decided, I shift into high gear to get cleaned up. For once, I don’t begrudge putting a suit on after a game. I want to look good for Sophie. Just thinking about seeing her goes a long way in pushing tonight’s events to the back burner.
The cool night air hits my damp hair and sends a chill down my back. I’m laser focused, a man on a mission, to get to my car and drive to Sophie’s. But a small crowd of fans is waiting for us as we walk out, so I do my best to accommodate a few of them without appearing like I’m in a hurry, even though I am.
Finally, I’m able to break away.
“Luke?” Sophie’s voice stops me in my tracks.
I search around me until I spot her by the lamppost. Soft light reflects off her hair but leaves her eyes shadowed, and the yellow glow makes her pink top appear more orange.
