Page 116 of Puck Your Feelings

"You cried into your protein shake yesterday," Wall adds.

"I had something in my eye!"

"Yeah, tears."

I glare at him. "I thought you were supposed to be my friend."

"I am your friend," Wall says. "Which is why I'm telling you that you're being a dumbass. Go talk to Kane."

I flinch at the name. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Right," Groover drawls. "That's why you've been walking around looking like someone stole your favorite hockey stick and beat you with it."

"Poetic," I mutter.

"Look," Cap says, pushing off the wall. "Whatever happened between you two, it's affecting the team."

"Nothing happened," I lie.

"Then why are you sleeping here instead of your own cabin?" Mateo asks, eyebrows raised.

"Because... the air quality is better."

"The air quality," Wall repeats. "In the cabin where Petrov keeps his collection of shakers that he never washes."

Petrov looks offended. "I rinse them!"

"Guys," Cap interrupts again. "Focus."

"Look," I say, standing up. "I appreciate the concern, but this is none of your business. Kane and I are fine. Everything's fine. The team is fine."

"You missed three open passes to Kane during practice today," Ace points out.

"And you've been checking your phone every five minutes like you're waiting for a kidney transplant," Petrov adds.

"And you drew a little heart next to Kane's name in the team roster," Wall says.

My head snaps up. "I did not!"

Wall grins. "No, but your reaction just confirmed everything."

Fucking Wall.

"So what if something happened?" I finally burst out. "It's over now, and we're moving on. Like adults."

"Adults don't hide in other people's cabins and pretend their problems don't exist," Groover says.

"No, they repress their feelings until they develop ulcers and die alone," I counter. "It's the hockey player way."

Mateo sighs. "As the only person here with any emotional intelligence—"

"Hey!" several players protest simultaneously.

"—I'm telling you that whatever Kane did—"

"What makes you think he did something?" I interrupt.

"Because you're here, and he's not," Mateo says simply.