Page 84 of Offside Rules

Shit.

I shrug and lift both hands like I have no idea what happened.

Her mouth falls open. She turns to Ellie, who’s already laughing, then looks back at me and shakes her head.

I hold up a gloved hand and make a zero.

She points at me again, but this time she’s smiling.

I’ve been hit, shoved, and insulted for the better part of three periods, and somehow that makes the whole fucking thing worth it.

Kendall checks my shoulder before I shower. I tell her about the hits, show her where it hurts, and answer her questions without trying to convince her I’m doing better than I am. I’d like to play the next game too, and lying to her isn’t going to help with that.

Theo gets the ice on afterward, and I sit with it while the room clears out.

Olsen stops beside me on his way to the door.

"Enjoy your show."

"Planning on it."

"Don’t stay up too late. Those season finales get pretty wild. An old man like you needs his beauty rest."

Considering I’m six years younger than him, his insult doesn’t land.

"You asked out that waitress yet? Bristol, right?"

"You asked out Baylor yet?" he tosses back.

"She’s sleeping in my bed tonight, so I think I’m doing a little better than you."

"To watch television."

"Still got her through the door." I adjust the edge of the ice pack. "You planning to ask Bristol before the season ends, or are we carrying this into next year too?"

"I’ll get to it."

"Night, Bozeman."

"Night, Ziegler."

I finish icing, shower, and get dressed, taking a little longer with my shirt than I’d like. By the time I reach the reporters, I’m ready to go home and sit somewhere nobody will hit me.

"No penalty minutes tonight," one of them says. "Was that a conscious adjustment heading toward the playoffs?"

"I wanted to stay on the ice. Hard to help from the box."

"Will we see more of that?"

"That would be a dull rest of the season, wouldn’t it?"

A couple of them laugh. I answer questions about JP’s saves and Luka’s goal, then get out before anyone asks for a detailed explanation of my improved behavior. I’m not telling them about Baylor. Hunter has already done enough damage without giving the press something to work with.

My phone buzzes as I head down the hall.

Baylor: Ellie wants to know if we’re going to Oakley’s.

Me: Heading home. Shoulder needs more ice. You can go with the girls if you want.