Page 56 of The Boyfriend Zone

"How's the wing today?" Zach asked, noticing my grimace as he laced up his shoes.

"Better," I said, sitting up and carefully stretching. "Still not game-ready, but I can move it more each day."

"That's good," Zach nodded, then his expression shifted to a knowing smirk. "Must have been all thatphysical therapyyou were doing last night."

I froze, then feigned innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about. I was here, watching game tape with you guys."

"Sure," Zach's grin widened. "Come on, Sean. Your bed wasn't slept in until after midnight, and you came in looking like you'd won the lottery."

"You were awake?" I asked, giving up the pretense.

"Dude, these walls are paper thin. I heard you fumbling with the keycard for like five minutes." Zach shook his head in mock disappointment. "For someone so stealthy on the ice, you make a terrible ninja."

I threw my pillow at him, which he caught easily. "Nothing happened," I insisted. "We just talked and fell asleep."

"Sure," Zach waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Justtalked. Now hurry up. I need my pre-game pancakes, and you need to see your boy before he withers away from separation anxiety."

I rolled my eyes but moved faster, suddenly eager to get downstairs and see Lucas again, despite having left him only a few hours ago.

At breakfast, the team was in high spirits, the anticipation of game day buzzing through the hotel restaurant. Lucas was already there, notebook open beside his plate as he chatted with Tristan about the captain's pre-game routine.

He looked up as I approached, and the smile that spread across his face made something warm unfurl in my chest.

"Morning," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "Sleep well?"

"Very," Lucas replied, his eyes twinkling with private amusement. "Though someone stole my pillow in the middle of the night."

"How inconsiderate," I said solemnly. "You should file a complaint with hotel management."

"I would, but it was actually an upgrade from the standard issue." Lucas took a sip of his coffee, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Beside us, Tristan groaned. "If you two are going to be this disgustingly cute all day, I'm switching tables."

"No one's stopping you," I pointed out, stealing a piece of toast from Lucas's plate.

"Hey!" Lucas protested. "I was saving that."

"Sharing is caring," I informed him, taking a bite. "Besides, I need my strength for all the bench-warming I'll be doing today."

Despite my joking tone, a familiar pang of disappointment hit me. Game days had always been my favorite—the rush of adrenaline, the focus that came with knowing every move mattered, the camaraderie of battle. Being sidelined, even temporarily, was harder than I wanted to admit.

Lucas, perceptive as always, caught the shift in my mood. "Coach said you'd be helping with strategy from the bench today, right? Because you know the opposing team's patterns?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, grateful for the reminder that I wasn't completely useless. "Their defense has some tells I picked up on last season. Figured I might as well put my obsessive game analysis to good use."

"See? The team still needs you," Lucas said, his gaze warm and understanding. "Just in a different capacity."

"Listen to your boyfriend, Sean," Tristan chimed in. "Some of us have been saying for years that your brain is more valuable than your brawn."

"My brawn is excellent, thank you very much," I retorted, flexing my good arm dramatically.

"No argument here," Lucas murmured, then blushed when he realized he'd said it aloud.

Breakfast continued in this vein, with easy conversation and good-natured ribbing that made me forget, for stretches at a time, that I wouldn't be on the ice today. Having Lucas there—watching him interact with my teammates, seeing him take notes for his article while still being fully present in the moment—filled a space I hadn't realized needed filling.

After the meal, we headed to the arena for morning skate. Lucas split off to go to the press area, promising to find me before the game, while I joined the team in the locker room.

It was strange being there in street clothes instead of gear, but Coach Barnett immediately pulled me into the pre-skate briefing, asking my input on defensive pairings and special teams strategies. The fact that he valued my opinion, that he saw me as more than just an injured player taking up a roster spot, meant more than I could express.

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