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I slip the card into the front pocket of his jeans. “No. Thank you, and truly, it’s really kind. But I’ve always had my own money and got by on what I have. I’m not about to start riding on yours.”

“You can be really stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

“And it’s one of my best qualities.” I wave a hand in front of me. “Now, I need to put away my panties in private.”

“When doyou start back for pre-season training?”

Zach is sitting on the opposite end of the couch, stretched out with his arms folded behind his head, looking every bitincredible. He could’ve at least passed up the gray sweatpants. It’s taking everything in me to focus onStep Brothersand not casually stare at him.

“Light conditioning starts tomorrow. I’ll get a couple of hours in the gym with my trainer.”

“I’ve always imagined it's quite scary, you know—ice skating.”

Holding his arm outstretched, he pauses the movie and prods me lightly with his foot. “You mean to tell me you’ve never been on the ice?”

I shake my head. “Nope, why would I?”

He shrugs. “True. I just automatically assume everyone has been ice skating.”

“Do you enjoy what you do?”

Zach turns his head to look at me, his eyes narrowing in thought. “At thirty-one, I’m starting to feel it more physically. After-game care is becoming more important, and recovery is taking longer. Taking that hit last year has set me back, but how much I don’t know.”

I cock my head slightly to the side. “But you’re all healed now, right?”

He shifts, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable, but not physically. “It’s hard to explain.”

I look down at my bare wrist, checking my non-existent watch. “I’ve got time. Four days to be precise.”

He chuckles and sits up straighter. “I’ve never taken a board like that. I’ve been hit hard before, and I’ve been in more fights than…you know I’ve been in a lot of fights.”

I mimic his movements and sit up straight. “You’re worried about the effect it’s had on you mentally?”

He scratches at his chest, his eyes crinkling at the corners in thought. “Maybe. He could’ve easily killed me. The way I hit the boards, I was lucky it didn’t break my neck.”

I haven’t seen the footage. I couldn’t. When I heard how potentially serious it was, I called every hospital in downtown Manhattan I could think of, desperate to get an update on his condition. In the end, I had to rely on news outlets and social media to keep me in the loop. As soon as I knew he was awake, I couldn’t get to my phone quick enough to call him and check he was okay.

“I know,” I say in a hushed tone.

“We play not really thinking how dangerous our sport is, but that day kind of brought it home. I want a life after my career. I’m expected to walk back onto the team and pick up from where I left off—throwing my weight around and protecting others. But you’re right with what you said, Luna.”

“What’s that?”

He draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Who’s got my back out there?”

I have.

“Jon’s your best friend and the captain. Maybe you should talk with him. Tell him how you feel.”

He scoffs. “Once the stoic hardass Zach Evans—now scared shitless of the ice.”

“Well, that pisses me off,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Why?”

“Just this ongoing need men have to pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not. If it’s bothering you, then say something. It doesn’t mean you’re any weaker or less than. If anything, it shows your strength.”

Zach’s eyes soften against the glow of the still TV, and his handsome face visibly relaxes, almost like it’s what he needed to hear. Maybe validation or simply an understanding ear. “You’re so fucking special, Luna. You know that?”