Page 319 of Playing With Fire

He looks away.

I can see him working through it and trying to decide whether to yell or walk off.

Then he looks back at me. “Is this serious?”

I don't hesitate. “Yeah.”

“How serious?”

I meet his eyes. “I'm in love with her.”

He goes completely still.

There. It's out. And whatever happens next, I'm not taking it back.

Declan looks at me for a long moment. Then he shakes his head. “Fuck you, Bish.”

He turns and walks into the visiting locker room.

I stand there, listening to the door swing shut. Well. That went about as well as expected.

By the time we take the ice for warmups, the arena is filling. The noise hits me as I step through the tunnel. Music pounding through the speakers. Fans shouting from behind the glass. The sharp scrape of blades against fresh ice.

Home.

Whatever's going on outside this rink, this part of my life still makes sense.

I push off and take a lap.

Jax sends a puck toward me.

I catch it on my stick, cut toward the slot, and fire.

The puck hits the crossbar.

“Little high, Captain!” he calls.

“Testing the equipment.”

“Try testing the net next time.”

I circle back.

Then I see her.

Delaney's sitting a few rows behind the glass, close to the Phoenixes' bench.

My jersey hangs off her shoulders.

BISHOP. 22.

Mrs. B is on one side of her. Avery's on the other.

Coach sits beside his wife, wearing a North Pines jacket instead of either team's colors.

Smart man.

Delaney spots me. Her whole face lights up. She raises a hand.