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He nudges my chest. “Then gear up. Let’s do a few drills and see what we can work with. But I meant what I said, O’Conner. Whatever or whoever is giving you that glazed look needs to be dealt with or you’ll keep messing up. Your focus right now needs to be one hundred percent on hockey. Get me?”

A grim feeling weighs on my stomach. “But what about you?”

He stares at me.

“It’s none of my business, but you’ve obviously got something on your mind today too.”

Clarkson’s head cocks. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine. Only one of us is playing shitty on the ice. It ain’t me.”

Touche .

Hours later, my body hurts more than it ever has before.

I’ll be feeling it all week even after I take the hottest damn shower of my life and icing every joint currently screaming at me, but Clarkson looks impressed with the effort I put in.

He smacks the same shoulder that got slammed into the wall during our one on one, snickering at my wince when I roll it.

“See you Friday, man,” he calls out after me, not bothering to look back.

Beating me up a little helped ease whatever stress tensed his muscles, because he seems in better spirits.

So, I’ll call that a win. Even if it leaves me hobbling like an eighty-year-old rather than a kid fresh out of college.

I think about the money this career pays and remember why I’m putting myself through this physical torture.

More specifically, who I’m doing this for.

And I remind myself it’s worth it.

Mom is worth it.

And, hopefully, Olive is too.

*

Belle’s Place is quieter than the last time I came here with the guys. It’s the middle of the week, and earlier in the day. I suspect once the sun goes down, the tables will be packed like they usually are with people looking for a good time.

When Clarkson asked me to meet him here, I’d been surprised. Practice had gone smoothly yesterday, so Coach Pelfrey didn’t make either of us stay behind like he had days prior. I chalked this up to some sort of celebratory thing. Maybe the others had already gotten here.

But when I’m guided up to the private loft by some cute blond with flirty eyes and a minidress that is borderline indecent paired with those legs, it’s only Clarkson I see in our usual booth.

“Captain,” I greet, sliding in across from him. He’s got an empty tumbler in front of him that his finger traces the lip of. “You good?”

I don’t see him drink much. Not even at his own place. He’d nursed the same two beers all night until they had to be piss fucking warm. So when another one is placed in front of him, I study him cautiously.

“I feel like you and I aren’t that different,” he says, lifting the glass to his mouth and taking a long sip. “We both are so focused on the game that we tend to drown out the other noise. Maybe a little too well.”

I lean back as the soda I ordered is placed on the table. “Something going on, Cap? Hasn’t been lost on any of us that you’ve had a stick up your ass for the better part of the week.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’ve never minced words, have you?”

“Depends on the situation, but no. I’d rather be blunt. Sometimes that bites me in the ass, but I find people respect you more for it.”

He hums, staring into his drink. He releases the cup and lifts his gaze. “It’s no surprise that I’m…protective of Belle.”

My cheek twitches with an amused smile that I manage to douse before he can see it. “I may have noticed. So this is about her?”

“Have you ever had somebody test your will so badly that you’re at your breaking point?

” he asks, the question making me blink as I soak it in.

When I hesitate, he leans back in his spot.

“I came to you because you don’t give me shit about her.

And there’s something you’re holding back that makes me think you might relate. ”

“How is that?”

“Nobody sees you with a girl or guy,” he points out. “You don’t talk about anybody from back home, besides your mystery girl. The people who are tight-lipped about that shit usually are for a reason. You told me there was someone, but you haven’t given me the details. You and I are alike.”

I pull my soda toward me and keep my fingers wrapped around the cool glass. “I have a lot of reasons to keep my mouth shut about back home. We’ve got a lot of press watching us these days. I like keeping my personal life personal.”

He nods. “I get that. But what if that hurts you in the long run?”

How can it hurt me more than it already has? “I don’t know what Belle is doing to piss you off, but if it’s bothering you that much than maybe she should be the one sitting here talking about things with you. You live together. No sense of making things awkward by not talking.”

He looks over the balcony at something below us. “I told her I was meeting someone here today.”

“Okay…?”

“A girl someone.”

I blink at his murmured admission. “Are you… trying to make her jealous?”

His eye twitches. “That’s what she’s been doing to me for the past goddamn month. Do you know how many men she’s brought over and paraded in front of me in my own home? She’s never been the type to do that. It’s driving me up a wall.”

Christ . I’m not trained for this kind of bromance.

Nobody ever comes to me for advice because I keep them at arm’s length.

“Look, I’m no expert on this, but games don’t get people anywhere.

Wasn’t it you who just said that we couldn’t play on the top of our game if we were holding onto shit?

We’re about to start a new season, so I’d squash this before we start competing.

Belle is important to you. Not even she would want you to jeopardize the game. ”

He takes another sip of his drink, moving his jaw as he contemplates what I’m saying.

I can tell he’s fighting logic, so whatever Belle has been doing is obviously getting to him more than he’s letting on.

“The girl back home,” I begin, regaining his attention. “She’s the little sister of a former teammate. It started off casual. A mindless fling to pass the time for both of us. Her brother warned me away from her, but that didn’t stop either of us from pursuing things.”

Clarkson sets his drink down. “What happened?”

“A lot. I got drafted and moved.”

His eyes narrow. “It’s more than that.”

Perceptive fucker. “The casual part of the fling grew into more, and I couldn’t afford to have her in my life like that. I was leaving, so it made sense to break it off. She’s still in college. I’m here. It wouldn’t have worked.”

The captain shakes his head. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that. You don’t know any of that for sure.”

“I know that I said some pretty harsh things that I can tell still hurt her even after I’ve apologized.

I suppose that’s my punishment to endure.

Look, man. I have my reasons for doing what I did.

But what’s yours? Belle seems like a nice girl.

She’s successful. Attractive—Don’t give me that look.

I’m pointing out the facts. I have eyes. ”

He harrumphs but doesn’t say anything.

“So what if she’s your stepsister? It isn’t like you share any DNA.

Do whatever is going to make you happy. Or at least do what makes you less of a pain in our asses.

But take it from me. It’s never fun watching the person you care about move on with somebody else.

So do something about it before this little game turns into something serious. ”

I think about that picture of Olive and Bodhi. She didn’t say they were together, but didn’t tell me they weren’t . Just because she knows I’m in this doesn’t mean she is too.

The only thing I can hope for if they are involved is that he never lets another fucking person talk shit about her, or he’ll have to answer to me. I have no issue throwing hands if it means making sure she’s treated right. Even if that means letting her go to be happy with someone else.

Clarkson scrapes a palm over his jaw thoughtfully, his square shoulders easing until he finally sighs heavily. “So what’s holding you back?”

My thumb taps against the tabletop. “There’s another woman who I need to put first. She takes up what little time and energy I have that hockey doesn’t these days. Being in a relationship with me wouldn’t be easy, and I don’t think I can give anybody the part of me that they deserve.”

The way Clarkson looks at me makes my skin feel itchy, but then he dips his chin. “That’s admirable, O’Conner. But I stand by what I said before. You should let people choose whether they want to be part of your life. Don’t you want someone who will accept all of you regardless of the bad parts?”

That’s the dream, isn’t it? But dreams aren’t real. That’s why people wake up from them and have to decide if they’re really nightmares. “I could say the same for you.”

Just as he answers, Belle shows up at the top of the stairs and looks between us.

I slide out of the booth. “Thanks for the talk, man. Good luck.” I dip my head in greeting at Belle. “He’s all yours.”

Her eyes widen a fraction before they dart from me to her stepbrother. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the pink on her cheeks.

“Bye, Alex,” she says, her eyes glued to my captain.

I chuckle to myself and wonder how long it’ll take before they’re doing anything other than talking in that booth.

When I walk out of Belle’s Place, I pull my phone out and search for Olive’s name in my contacts. Just as I pull up our old text thread, pain radiates in my head and sends black dots coating my eyes until black is all I see.