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I should’ve known he’d latch onto that and run with it. This guy has been through more shit as a kid than most humans experience in their entire lives. His heart is as big as an ocean, and anyone he can help fix, he’s right there.

“I told you; I don’t think her parents were good to her. She’s damaged, man. She’s so fucking beautiful, but she can’t see it. She’s kept everyone but her closest friends at arm’s length. The thing is, I know her heart wants me.” I tap my finger against my temple and look him dead in the eyes. “But her head has thirty-six years of shit to wade through.”

He nods, and I know he gets it.

“I know I’m it for her. I know I’m the one, and fuck if she isn’t the only girl my head, heart, and dick wants. But I’m going backward, man. I’m now firmly a friend with added benefits. But I can’t fucking stay away.”

“You just need to keep telling her.”

Finally full-kitted, I grab my stick and helmet and point to the exit, but not before I’ve given my best friend one last look. “Even if I wanted to pull back, I couldn’t. She is my north. No matter which way she twists, turns, and tries to evade our truth, I’m pointing straight at her. We are meant to be together.”

I am playinglike total shit. Like a rookie caught in the headlights.

We’re three goals down, and every single one has been my fault.

She’s there, in the box, looking like a fucking dream, and I can’t stop staring.

The game is passing me by with Zach shooting fucking daggers at me, and I know Coach Burrows is going to ream me out at the end of this period.

Like I give a shit.

“Where is your head at, man?” Zach screams at me when a fourth goal hits the back of the net.

I turn away from him and take a deep breath. Our fans are loyal to a fault, but I can sense the frustration and concern building. We’ve got one more period to prove to them that we’re ready for the first game of the season.

“Did you hear me? Where is your head?”

“Not here,” I say under my breath, the arena noise drowning me out.

“You’re fucking this up!”

I whip around. “Do you think I give an actual fuck?!” I point at my chest. “Right now, I don’t give a shit. I don’t care.”

“You do, man.” His voice softens as the ice clears around us.

I laugh sarcastically. “I’ll care when the more important things in my life are here. I’ll care when I can’t feel the palpable pain I know she’s feeling. I’ll care when the agony stops for me, too.”

He drops his shoulders. “You really are in love with her, huh?”

“I’ve cared for and protected her for two years, but my heart fully fell when she told me she was carrying my children.”

His eyes widen. “Wow.”

I look around. “Can we not do this on the ice?”

“Yeah, sure.” He props his hands on his hips. “Look. Why don’t you just tell Burrows you’re sick? I’ll cover for you. Head home, get your shit together, and come back to an early morning skate on Saturday with a clearer head.”

Fuck me, but that sounds like everything I need. “I can’t do that to the team.”

“You can and you will. I’m making the call.”

I purse my lips, hating that I’m about to duck out of a game but knowing I’ve got no choice. “Alright.”

Walking off the ice, Zach strides out in front of me on his way to sort out my mess with Coach Burrows, no doubt.

“Jensen?” My hand is on the locker room door handle when I hear her voice.

“Yeah.” I keep my head straight forward, not wanting to look at her. Right now, I’m weak and vulnerable, and this time, I don’t want her to see.