Page 72 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

And he could continue with his parties and womanizing until I’m someone he barely remembers.

“I’ll shower.” I scamper from the room. I strip from my boxer briefs and let the water pummel me.

This immaculate marble bathroom with its impossibly fluffy towels and perfect lighting and fancy shower with tons of handles isn’t mine. I’m here because of my own incompetence, and this joy I have found with Finn cannot last.

I should tell him now, but he is too important to me. I cannot let go, and that is my sin. I tell myself Finn wants all this too, and sometimes I believe it, but would he still want any of this if I were to leave and he would be free of the marriage charade? How soon would I be forgotten? Would I be a memory to show how open minded and fun-loving he is? A fun fact in sports memorabilia books? The first married teammates in the NHL, though I didn’t last long?

I slam the shower knob off. I refuse to stress about this. I refuse to overthink.

I am going to go to Cambridge with Finn and play amazing hockey.

I stalk from the bathroom, clothed and ready, and nervousness absolutely not pulsing from any of my veins. No way. That would be inappropriate.

I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this.

FINN

Noah storms from the bathroom, muttering something about excelling. I resist the urge to watch himangrily put on clothes. Instead, I take a shower. When I exit, Noah is making us avocado toast with eggs.

“This is nice.” I lean in for a kiss.

He wraps his arms around my neck and deepens the kiss. Maybe he’s not in as bad of a mood as I thought.

I tell him everything I know about the New York players, though he knows their style from watching games.

Finally, we arrive at the arena. Noah’s eyes are rounder than before, but he keeps his steps steady, and his chin remains parallel to the polished concrete floor.

I pretend to not notice how he stiffens when we pass Coach Holberg’s office, like he’s expecting Coach to usher him inside, then break all his dreams.

Normally, I’m not super against this being a high turnover sport and making room for another person with bright eyes and big dreams. But selfishly, I want Noah to stay. He didn’t get a good start, and that was all on me. I need to believe there was a reason he was picked, because there sure as hell is a reason for him to stay.

But Noah is stressed enough without me laying romantic proclamations at his feet, and certainly the hallway where we both work is not the ideal place.

We enter the locker room, and eyes shift on us.

“No celebratory music?” I moan.

“Nope. Wait until your next marriage,” Troy declares.

Noah stiffens behind me.

“I’m not a one-week marriage kind of guy,” I say.

“I wasn’t sure when your hookups are one night only.”

“As if I have them spend the night.”

Noah’s gaze is pale. And sickly. Actually, he doesn’t look super good. Maybe he’s experiencing trauma from the last time he was here, and Tanaka dragged us to his office.

Troy slides his gaze to Noah. “Don’t worry, Noah. I’ll make you cocktails.”

The guys erupt in laughter.

I scowl at my teammates. “I am the only person here who has a six-figure side hustle making drinks.”

“You make smoothies,” Troy corrects. “And those green juices. Besides, I bet loads of people watch you for your looks.”

Luke’s eyes widen. “Those green drinks probably destroyed your taste buds and made you serve Noah poison.”