Page 79 of Gap Control

"Yeah."

"That wasn't your job."

"But I was good at it. Felt like it was."

"It wasn't." His voice was firm. "And it's not now."

***

Mason left for the arena just after five, gear slung over one shoulder and soup instructions left on the counter. He was great playing the role of my extremely attractive roommate in a sitcom pilot.

"You good?" He lingered by the door, and I worried he might skip the game if I blinked too slowly.

"I'm good," I rasped. "Go forth and score goals."

He hesitated. "I can stay."

I shook my head. "Don't you dare. Go wreck their defense and come back sweaty and victorious."

He kissed my forehead, and then he was gone, leaving the place too quiet and smelling vaguely of ginger and eucalyptus.

I lasted twenty minutes before I opened the team group chat.

TJ:Official update: still dying. Mason has abandoned me for hockey. He's probably flirting with a ref right now.

Immediately:

Brady:What flavor of dying are we talking?

Monroe:Is this dramatic TJ or actual medical TJ?

TJ:Both.I am a medical drama. Season 3. Very emotional.

Lambert:Pics or you're faking.

TJ:[phone pic sent of me under a pile of blankets with my nose red and a mug full of Mason's suspicious tea)

Monroe:You look like a diseased marshmallow.

Next, because God loves chaos:

Coach Mac:Focus up. Game starts in twenty.

Monroe:YES COACH.

Lambert:SORRY COACH.

TJ:I'm not even there, and I still feel benched.

By the second period, updates rolled in.

Monroe:Mason nearly checked a guy into the bench.

Brady:Pretty sure he's playing angry.

Lambert:Is this what happens when you take away his TJ??

Monroe:He's a menace. A grief-powered menace.

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