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There is a chorus of clapping and cheers, and Parker urges Liam to step forward into the room. I don’t miss the tiny tremble in his hands clutching the paper with the lineup on it, and I’m grateful when Parker, who I’m learning is always a few steps ahead, presses a tissue into my hands.

“Just in case,” she whispers with a smile.

Liam clears his throat, then starts to read in the loudest, most grown-up voice I’ve ever heard him use. I do my best to be surreptitious as I wipe my eyes.

“And for your starting lineup tonight, we have …” He pauses, looking down at the list. I’m sure he has them memorized already. Glancing down is just to be sure he doesn’t make a mistake due to his nerves. “Number seventeen, Barnes.”

I startle when all the guys chant, “Hey!” and clap their hands in unison. Barnes is on the nameplate above Logan, so I’m guessing they use last names or nicknames for lineups.

“Number thirty-seven, Vanity.”

Van flexes as everyone claps.

“Number twenty-one, the Kid.”

“Hey!”Clap.

“He only wishes he was twenty-one!” Van adds, and a few guys laugh.

The Kid must refer to Dominik—the one Greyson was talking about that Parker said was very young. Up close and with no helmet on, he does look young. Liam’s voice gains confidence with each name and so does the warm pride bubbling up in my chest.

“Number twenty-three, Sanders.”

“Hey!”Clap.

“Number eleven.” Liam pauses. “Cole. A.k.a. Coach Cam.”

Thisheyis a little louder and longer than the others, and so is the clapping that follows.

Camden grins at this, and Eli gives him a friendly shove. I feel like my stupid heart swelled up and will require some serious renovations if it wants to stay in my chest.

“And between the pipes, Felix Jamison.”

“Hey!” This is followed by a whole round of clapping and cheers.

When it subsides, Parker steps forward next to Liam again, but before she can speak, Liam says, “Let’s have a beaut of a game tonight, boys!”

More cheering. More guys getting up to fist bump or high five Liam. More of me sniffing and trying not to visibly cry. I don’t really care about sports, though I guess I need to at least consider starting to care about this one. I’m not sure why I’m so in my feels about this, other than Liam caring so much and seeing the way Camden and his teammates are being with him.

“You okay there?”

Camden is standing next to me, and I really have to crane my neck to look at him. I’m not sure of his actual height, maybe somewhere around six feet or just over, but with him in skates, I feel Lilliputian.

“Me? I’m totally fine.”

“Mm-hm,” he says, clearly not believing me but willing to let it go. “I got you something for tonight.”

“I want to tell you to stop getting me things.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

“But … I kind of like being pampered by you,” I confess.

He chuckles. “Good. Because I have no plans to stop. Here.”

From somewhere behind him, Camden produces a jersey I didn’t notice him holding. He shakes it out and turns it so I see his last name—which I now know—and number on the back.

“You don’t have to wear it,” he says. “What you’ve got on looks … really nice.”