Page 35 of Guarded Love

"Something real would be nice."

We stare each other down for a moment and I end up breaking the connection. Much like I did the night we kissed after that party. This time, however, I don’t leave her hanging. "Fine," I say, my voice dropping lower. "Real? I think about that Westlake game because it was the first time all season I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not overthinking, not second-guessing. Just...present. I also didn’t have a panic attack before I hit the ice so that was nice as well."

Her pen hovers above the page. The admission about my anxiety seems to have caught her off guard. For a moment, the professional mask slips, and I see something softer in her expression.

"You have panic attacks before games?" she asks quietly.

I look away, immediately regretting sharing that detail. "Sometimes. Not as much anymore."

"How do you manage them?" The question sounds genuinely curious rather than journalistic.

"Structure. Routine." I tap my finger against the table. "That's why I'm so methodical about everything. It keeps me grounded when my brain wants to spiral."

She writes something down, but she’s not writing as fast. "Is that what the color-coded notebooks are about?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You noticed that?"

"Hard not to," she says with a slight shrug. “I noticed it years ago.”

The fact that she's been paying attention to something so small about me makes my chest tighten in a way I'm not prepared for. "Yeah, well. Organization helps."

"And hockey?"

"Hockey helps too," I admit. "When I'm on the ice, everything narrows down to just the game. No room for overthinking, but sometimes getting onto the ice is a battle in itself."

She nods, but I can’t read the expression on her face. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Part of me wonders if there is any more left to say. Did I answer all of her questions? Scare her off because I mentioned my panic attacks? It wouldn’t be the first time in my life that someone has looked down on me because I have them.

"Does Knox know?" she asks finally, her voice soft enough that only I can hear it.

I hesitate. "Not really. Not the extent of it." My fingers drum lightly against the table. "Coach is probably the only person who really knows. It's not something I advertise."

"Yet you're telling me." It's not a question, but there's confusion in her tone.

"Yeah, well." I shrug. "You asked for something real."

She studies me for a long moment, and I resist the urge to look away. "I did. I just didn't expect you to actually give it to me."

"Will you put it in the article?" I ask. It hits me that I actually care about how she’ll respond to this more than I realized.

She looks up and her green eyes search mine before she answers. "No," she says finally. "I’ll keep that between us.”

"Thanks." I feel my body relax slightly as she confirms this won’t become a public spectacle.

"Don't thank me," she replies quickly. "It's not my story to tell." It’s then that she glances down at her notebook before she clears her throat. "I think I have everything I need for the article."

"That's it?" The words escape before I can stop them.

Willow looks up, one eyebrow arched. "Did you want me to ask more questions?"

No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know what I want, except that I'm not ready for her to walk away again. "I just thought there would be more... hockey questions."

"I got what I needed," she says, but she doesn't move to pack up her things. "Unless there's something else you think I should include?"

I hesitate because I’m trying to find a reason to keep her here and am having a hard time coming up with one. "Maybe about the team dynamics? The relationship between offense and defense?"

"Alright. Tell me about that."

"It's...complicated." I fumble for words, suddenly aware I've created an opening I don't know how to fill. "The forwards get a lot of the glory, but defense wins championships. There’s this competitive edge that runs through all of us in numerous ways. What it all boils down to is that we have to trust each other completely and communicate. No matter what.”