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Teammates can still be competitors, not all of them will want to be your friends. At least, that’s what I’m used to. One of my biggest rivals for the past three years was Sebastian Henderson. I used to look up to him until I realized he was one of the people in my way of getting this opportunity.

He knew it too.

But, deep down, it was more than that. Sure, he stood between me and the NHL. He also stood between me and his little sister. The second he told me to stay away from her, it was a challenge I personally accepted. Maybe to be petty, to take something for myself since I didn’t know if I’d ever get this far in my career, or maybe because Olive could hold her own in a conversation. I don’t know. The only thing Idoknow is that I had no intention of listening to his warnings.

My eyes go back to the stands and lock on the curvy girl in a Henderson jersey. I saw her and Sebastian together earlier; felt her eyes on me when I was stretching. And then I heard her telling one of our coaches that we had a better chance at winning if we switched out our right wing and tried a different formation that focused more on the center’s agility. And she’s right. Our center is fucking fast, and our right wing has been losing his touch.

As if Henderson can sense who I’m staring at, he skates over and purposefully knocks into me with enough force that I nearly go down.

“Don’t even think about it, O’Conner. My little sister is off limits.”

His little sister. Damn. “I’m not the one staring. Not my fault she has taste.”

I swear he growls.

I grin. “I like a girl with substance.”

He gets in my face. “If you touch her, I will do everything in my power to fuck up your life. Do you understand me?”

All I do is laugh, because it’s comical. After all, he doesn’t know how fucked up my life already is. My eyes slowly find their way back to his sister when one of the guys breaks up our standoff. Even though it’s impossible to be sure from all the way down here, I know she’s staring directly at me.

The memory brings back a wave of nostalgia.

In our world, we don’t get many chances to prove ourselves—it’s eat or be eaten. Henderson made sure to put himself first so he could sign with the Rangers, and I’m sure he’s still doing the same for headlines and endorsements. He wanted it all and had no intention of sharing anybody’s attention.

So having Olive’s…shit, it felt like I had everything. When it stopped being about fucking with Sebastian, and turned into melikingher eyes on me, I knew I was in trouble. Because even the slightest shift of focus meant losing what I’ve worked so hard for. I couldn’t do that to Mom.

“I don’t have any secrets,” I tell the captain, forcing away the heaviness settling into my chest.

His head cocks as he studies me like he can see the lie lingering in the air between us before glancing back out the curtain. “We all have secrets, O’Conner. And today those reporters are going to ask you a lot of questions to try unveiling at least one of yours.”

My throat bobs as I swallow the anxiety trying to rise back up it when I think of my visit with my mother.

Clarkson gets called away by one of the PR girls working for the team, patting my shoulder before he disappears with her down the hall.

Fuck.

It’s only when I’m alone that I pull my phone out and listen to the phone ring after hitting the call button.

I almost don’t think she’s going to answer when I hear, “What do you want?”

It’s not a warm greeting, not that I thought I’d get one. “I need a pep talk.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Olive’s voice is loud enough for one of the team managers to raise an eyebrow. I walk to the furthest corner of the room and lower my voice to try being relatively quiet. “I know I don’t deserve one—”

“Damn straight,” Olive cuts me off.

“But I have a press conference in a matter of minutes,” I wince when the guy in the room with me holds up three fingers. “Three minutes, apparently. And I’m not sure if I want to barf or piss myself.”

“You could always do both,” she offers sweetly, and I can only imagine her batting those goddamn eyelashes that are always long, dark, and flirty while she says it.

Sighing, I tug at the collar of my shirt. “Look, I know you don’t owe me anything. We didn’t part on good terms, and that’s on me. I was…Iamdealing with a lot of shit that I don’t want anyone getting dragged into. If there’s only one thing I’m allowed to ask of you, it’s this. You were always good at calming me down.”

You were good for me.

I choose not to say that, no matter how strong those words ring true.