Page 134 of Wild Card 13

My irritation had nowhere to go now. It remained inside me, fully assembled but suddenly unsupported by the man sitting across from me.

Ty turned another page, scanning the schedule with the same concentration he brought to a coach’s board during a timeout. “Can we get here earlier?”

The question caught me off guard. “Earlier than eight fifteen?”

“Yeah.”

“How much earlier?”

“Whatever helps.”

“You have morning recovery requirements.”

“I can move them.”

“You cannot independently rearrange medical scheduling.”

“I can ask Freya without her killing me.”

“That seems optimistic.”

“She likes me.”

“Freya tolerates you because professional ethics prohibit violence.”

He looked up from the packet. “She invited me to brunch once.”

“She invited the entire team.”

“I was part of the half that showed.”

Despite myself, my mouth twitched. His did too. But this time neither of us laughed. The warmth remained quieter between us, almost careful.

“What would arriving earlier accomplish?” I asked.

“We could check the ice setup before the families get here. Make sure the sticks and sleds are where they’re supposed to be. Meet the volunteers so nobody has to explain everything while kids are waiting.”

I stared at him.

Ty shifted slightly beneath the attention. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was definitely something.”

“I’m evaluating.”

“Me?”

“The suggestion.”

“You were looking directly at my face.”

“Unfortunately, that is where you keep most of your suggestions.”

His mouth curved again, but he did not reach for the joke waiting between us. Instead, he glanced back at the packet. “Seven forty-five?” he offered. “Would that help?”

I considered the remaining setup schedule. The Mighty Blades coordinator would arrive at seven thirty. Equipment services had access to the rink beginning at seven. The volunteer briefing was not until eight. “Yes,” I admitted. “It would.”