He skates off the ice with one arm around the trainer’s shoulders, and I’m already moving, heading for the tunnel.

“Remy!” someone calls, but I don’t stop.

By the time I get to the locker room, he’s sitting on a bench, his jersey off, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. He looks up when I walk in, and his eyes narrow.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he says, his voice low and rough.

“Fuck that,” I snap, walking straight to him. “What the hell was that, Zane? Are you okay?”

He smirks, but it’s weaker than usual. “It’s nothing. Just a hard hit.”

“Nothing? You were on the ice for, like, five minutes!”

He shrugs, wincing when the movement makes him flinch. “I’ve had worse.”

I glare at him, my hands on my hips. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax, baby. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” I snap, my voice rising. “You scared the shit out of me, Zane.”

His smirk fades, and he leans back, watching me with those intense eyes. “You’re mad because you’re worried about me?”

“Of course I’m worried! Jesus, Zane, you looked like you were fucking dead out there!”

He stands up, towering over me, the ice pack falling to the bench. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to cup my cheek. “I’m okay.”

I swat his hand away, glaring up at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like it’s no big deal.”

He sighs, dropping his hand. “It’s part of the game, Remy.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think—” I cut myself off, my throat tightening.

“You didn’t think what?” he asks, his voice sharp now.

“I didn’t think I’d care this much, okay?” I snap, my chest heaving. “I didn’t think it’d fucking matter if you got hurt.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then he steps closer, so close I can feel the heat coming off him.

“It matters,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t.”

I look away, my hands clenching into fists. “You’re such a dick.”

He chuckles, and it’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from him all night. “Yeah, I know.”

I glance back at him, and he’s grinning now, that cocky smirk back in place. I want to slap it off his face, but I also want to kiss him.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter, shaking my head.

He leans down, brushing his lips against mine. “And you’re worried.”

I shove him lightly, but he doesn’t move. “You’re lucky I like you, asshole.”

“I’m lucky, huh?” he teases, his hands sliding down to my waist.

I roll my eyes, but I don’t pull away. “Just... don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

He nods, his expression serious now. “I’ll try.”