Page 4 of Defensive Zone

“Yeah, but you’re on the inside now. Just because it’s not you on the ice doesn’t make you any less part of the journey.”

With a shaky smile, he gives me a hug. “Make sure you look after Zach.”

“I will,” I promise. “Same goes for you with Blaine. I’m sure we’ll see you before we go on vacation. Zach will want to get his sugar fix.”

He lets out a small chuckle. He runs a bakery with his brother Jacob, and Zach has been a regular customer since they opened, feeding his sweet tooth with their delicious baked goods. “I’ll make sure his favorites are ready for him.”

“Thanks, he’ll really appreciate it.”

After saying goodbye to Alex and Nate, I head up the stairs to the concourse and make my way toward the team area.

I know Zach’s going to be gutted about this loss, even if he doesn’t say it outright, so I’m already trying to think of ways I can cheer him up. One positive to having his season end earlier than we’d hoped is the fact we will be able to go on our vacation sooner than we’d planned. We’ve booked a beachfront villa in Hawaii with a private pool. The photos look incredible, and I’ve been daydreaming of surfing at dawn and all the incredible food we’re going to eat.

Just having uninterrupted time with Zach is my favorite time of the year.

Hopefully I can get him feeling a little bit brighter if I can pull it off.

I make a quick stop at the family room to use their facilities, then I wait near the locker room. Leaning back against the concrete wall, I scroll through my phone as I wait for Zach to finish up his post-game cooldown then shower and change. Sometimes it takes ages for him to come out, especially if they’ve won. They like to have post-game singalongs, or, I should say, Elliot Olsen, the Thunder’s goaltender, likes to partake in post-game singalongs, but I don’t think there will be any singing today. I don’t think they will want to stay in this arena any longer than necessary.

When Zach appears, my breath whooshes out of me in a rush. Dressed in a dark gray suit and crisp white button-down, he looks smart and handsome. I often tell him he could be a model if he ever gave up hockey. With his height and incredible body, plus he’s got these icy blue eyes that look so piercing against his dark brown hair.

Without a word, I open my arms, and he steps into them, wrapping his around my waist. I hug him tight, trying to channel that special power I wanted so badly so I could alleviate his heavy feelings.

“Wanna go home?” I murmur into the side of his head.

It’s not really my home, but Zach’s apartment is like a second one for me.

He nods, and when he steps back, my chest clenches at the devastation in his eyes.

Fuck. I wish I could take it away. I would take it on myself if it meant he was free of it.

We’re silent on the drive back to his apartment. I put on his favorite playlist, and he gazes aimlessly out the window. His silence doesn’t worry me, though. He’s always been quiet and kinda introverted. It’s one of the things I love most about him. His calmness.

“What do you need?” I ask as we walk into his apartment twenty minutes later.

“I’m gonna take another shower and get changed,” he says, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge. “Could we watch a movie after?”

I nod, knowing his habits like the back of my hand. It’s been like this since he was twelve, when he came back from a tournament complaining that the showers at the rink made him feel dirtier than when he went in, so it became part of his post-game routine to shower again when he gets home.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Yeah, that would be awesome. I’m starving.”

“You got it.” I turn around and get a saucepan from the cupboard and fill it with water to boil.

“Carter?”

“Yeah?” I reply, glancing over my shoulder.

He smiles tiredly, and his blue eyes shimmer with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” I wink. “Now go get in the shower and think about what movie we’re going to watch.”

With a nod, he heads into his bedroom, and I busy myself in the kitchen, making his favorite chicken and broccoli Alfredo and retrieving the glazed donut that I picked up from the bakery earlier from the fridge.

I’m plating up the pasta when he reappears, this time wearing his plaid sleep pants and a pullover hoodie. His dark hair is slicked back and still damp, and his pale skin is flushed pink from the hot water. I slide the bowl and a fork over the countertop with a smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

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