Page 40 of Breaking Away

My cheeks flash hot. How does he know I have it with me? That my camera is in here?

“I bet it’s heavy,” says Lokhov. “I have a private compartment on the plane in case you want a break from keeping it on your lap. It’s secure and professionally padded for valuables.”

My arms close around it tighter. “I, um, should be okay.”

“Let me know whenever you are not.”

I look at my lap, not sure why the offer is making me feel emotional.

Some people carry around water bottles they can’t be separated from, and I have this. My camera. In my backpack are dozens of memory cards, as if I’m afraid I could run out. Sometimes I wish I could photograph all day, and sometimes the possibility terrifies me.

Overall, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but part of me is so desperate. I really need to figure out what happens next in my life.

15

DMITRI

The whistle blows,ending the second period.

In the dressing room for intermission, the team is refueling and listening to Forrester talk strategy. Beside me, Matt has taken off his jersey and shoulder pads to cool down. Quinn is re-taping his stick. Hughes is scarfing down a sandwich.

The walls feel thin, fan excitement reaching through to us. It forces Coach to speak louder, not that his words register.

I can’t stop thinking about how confused she was by the front row spot. Enough that it made me wonder whether she’d have preferred being invisible further up in the stands, like I’ve seen her sit for his games.

I’d asked as much.

Her answer was too breezy. “No, you’re right. I should act like we’re together-together because that’s the whole point. And I bet all your real girlfriends have loved front row seats, so this makes complete sense.”

With the game starting, I couldn’t ask her what was wrong. And I still don’t know what made her text me in the first place. What is she running from?

Questions circle my head. On repeat.

“You’re playing differently,” says Hughes. “With her watching.”

Five minutes to go before we’re back on the ice. This is when the team likes to goof off and shake off nerves. Normally I don’t participate, but this time I have no choice. They’ve circled me.

“I haven’t noticed her out there,” I say, as if the weight of those dark eyes can’t influence me. As if I’ve blocked her out, focusing only on my game, knowing I need to perform so Forrester knows never to bench me again. To make it so the renewal of my contract is a no-brainer, regardless of whether I’ve connected with the team enough or not.

“Bring her to all the games,” says Hughes, polishing off a sports drink.

Quinn helps Matt put his shoulder pads on. “Lokhov’s been blocking so many shots, I barely have to do anything.”

“Where did you two meet?” Matt asks.

“She’s Tyler Smith’s ex-fiancée,” I admit, hoping it shuts them up.

Everyone goes quiet.

“Are you using her to get back at him?” Hughes finally asks, uncharacteristic seriousness dimming our captain’s usual cockiness.

Tell him yes, just like you told Kavi. Say that’s the only reason you’re helping her.

“No.”

Where did that fucking come from?

He pats my shoulder. “In that case, you have my blessing.”

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