Page 56 of Game Misconduct

If that last one had gone in, it would have dragged Team USA to overtime.

All Leif wanted was to represent his country, his team, hisfamily, and what had he done? Far less than he should have. Far less than expected of him.

In the locker room, he swallowed past the thick, queasy feeling in his throat as he sat in his stall, staring down at his skates.

The chirp was bad enough from any of the Team USA players, but fromTanner? The guy he’d lain in bed with last night, laughing about absolute nonsense? The guy who he’d had to shove out of his room because he kept trying to wheedle his way into staying? To beg for one more kiss?

Tanner, who Leif didn’t even want to like, but was growing increasingly,reluctantlycharmed by with every day that passed?

It made Leif sick.

“Rasmussen, you’re wanted for media!” someone called out and he nodded. He stripped down to his base layers and ran a towel across his sweat-soaked, messy hair, then combed it off his forehead with his fingers.

The media filtered in a few minutes later and he looked up, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders as microphones and cameras were thrust toward him.

He tried to listen and reply the best he could, rattling off answers like, “It’s an honor to wear this jersey and represent so many amazing Nordic countries,” and “It was a great game. Team USA is performing incredibly well in this tournament. We couldn’t measure up.”

Leif even managed something about Tanner when asked, agreeing that it was a great rivalry. But inside, he felt sick and a little betrayed.

He made it through media and his cooldown and recovery work. He showered at some point, splashing water the only sound that filled the air. A sharp contrast from the raucous laughter and joyous conversation that had filled the room after the previous game.

Leif dressed on autopilot and followed guys to a bus that would take them to a restaurant. It had all been planned ahead of time and, thankfully, they were tucked in a quiet back room.

It was a subdued bunch who sat down to dinner that night. The coaches and other staff were trying to be upbeat but they understood how heavy the loss weighed on the team. Someone had called it a postmortem and that fit. It did feel a little bit like they were trying to find the cause of death as they discussed the game.

It was weirdly cathartic. Leif wouldn’t say he feltbetterafter, exactly, but he did feel like maybe he’d purged a little bit of the poison as he finished his steak, sautéed spinach, and roasted asparagus.

It was probably delicious, but he wasn’t sure he tasted any of it.

They lingered, despite the loss, wanting one last moment together as a team before they all went their separate ways.

Leif used the toilet while other guys ordered dessert, and he wasn’t surprised when he ran into his father in the hallway outside of the restrooms.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” he asked, frowning. Concerned as always. Leif appreciated it but it still made annoyance prickle through him.

He shrugged listlessly. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Because losses happen and?—”

“I know, Dad. Jesus, you act like this is my first tournament loss.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do you give all of your guys this much attention?” Leif snapped. “Or just me?”

“Leif …” His dad gave him a helpless look.

“Just give me some space.Please.”

“Okay. You know how to find me if you want to reach out.”

Leif nodded, his throat too thick to reply otherwise. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d lose it completely. And he didnotwant to embarrass himself in the hallway where someone couldsee.

Throughout dinner, his phone had buzzed a handful of times in his pocket, but when it did it again on his way back to the table, he silenced it, holding down on thePowerbutton so hard his thumb went white.

Whether it was family congratulating him on a game well played—a lie—or Tanner—trying to make good on their little wager—he wanted no part of it.

Not tonight.