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“How’s the house coming along?”

“We just finished stripping and painting the veranda and had outdoor furniture delivered. It’s coming together.”

Jensen stops in his tracks on the way to the check-in desk. “We?”

Shit, did I say we? “Yeah, I have a friend helping me with the work. Moving it along before I go back to Seattle.”

“Cool.” He turns to me, waggling his eyebrows as he collects his room key from the woman working reception. “Whoever it is soundssuperhelpful.”

He misses nothing.

Again, I don’t respond but take my key too. “Who you sharing with?”

We make our way to the elevator. “A recent rookie trade. Jon thought I’d be a good fit.”

“Does he also dress like he’s in the circus?”

Jensen punches the button to take us up. “I’m not dignifying that question with an answer. You look well though, man. You look, I dunno, lighter?”

I feel it. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Just looking forward to getting back on the ice, and I’ve got some time booked in with the trainer to go over my conditioning.”

We make our ascent to the fourth floor, where we’re both staying, when Jensen turns to me, eyeing my leg. “You’ll be ready for the season, right? I need my key defenseman back. We got crushed without you.”

Flashbacks of the hit I took in New York race through my mind. Truth is, I don’t recall all that much, but I do remember the pain I was in when I came to. But the broken ribs, tibia and a spinal concussion had nothing on the fucking devastation Amie put me through mentally. Those few months spent in recovery and at home, trying to work out what the fuck I was going to do with my life, come crashing back and steal the space in my lungs as I fight for air. It’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt like this, and I wasn’t prepared for it.

“Zach, man?” Jensen places his hand on my shoulder and lifts his finger at the open elevator doors. “Where’d you go back there?”

I shake my head to rid the weight of my feelings and hope the memories will follow. “Sorry, just got a bit caught up there.” I come to a stop in front of my hotel door and swipe the key card. “Physically, I’m fine. I’ll be ready for the season. No worries.”

“How’s it feeling, man?”Jon skates alongside me. It’s nice being back on the ice, even if it is just a free skate.

I think that was the hardest thing about taking the hit from Schneider. Not the pain, but the fear I’d never make it back. Waiting to hear what my fate was and whether I’d walk again was the longest time of my life. Not to mention the way I acted toward my best friend at the time. Man, I felt like a total jerk, blaming him for the way I behaved during that fateful game in New York. I threatened him with our friendship and told him I’d never forgive him if he told Coach Burrows what was going on in my personal life. He was right though; I was in no state to play. It’s like that year with Amie morphed me into someone I’m not. It’s amazing how we can blindly search for happiness with the one person who sucks it right out of you.

“Yeah, good. No ache, no pain at all. Just a matter of building up strength and fitness. You said Tina is arriving soon, right?” Tina is our strength and conditioning trainer. A few of the guys sustained bad injuries toward the back end of the season, and she’s heading over to help us review our offseason plan and make sure we’re on track.

He nods. “Yeah, only for a couple of days though. I want this week to be about rookie integration and getting everyone together. Take the piss out of Jensen—the usual.”

Skating backwards, I burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you told him it was compulsory to arrive in a post-game suit.”

“Any excuse for that boy to dress up. He’d have turned up in a tux if I’d asked.”

“Fuck off.” Is all we hear as Jensen skates past us with one of the fastest wingers in the NHL, Jessie Callaghan.

We both double over in hysterics.

Finally pulling myself together, Jon pins me with a look that promises a thousand questions. “What’s the score with you know who? Any more developments?”

I swear to God my cheeks flush. I haven’t clued him in on any of our texts or team chats, and I guess he’s been waiting for this week to pump me for information. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He comes to a complete stop in front of me, throwing up ice all over my sweats. “You’re seeing each other?”

I look down at my wet bottom half. “My pants are soaking.”

“Are you seeing each other?” he parrots.

“Not exactly, no.”

He arches an unimpressed brow. “You’re just fucking her?”