"That's terrifying."
"Good terrifying or bad terrifying?"
"Both." She leans into my touch slightly. "If we do this—if we try this—I need you to understand that I'm going to freak out. Probably multiple times. I'm going to overthink everything and assume the worst and probably try to sabotage it before you can hurt me."
"Okay."
"That's it? Just okay?"
"Tessa, I once punched a teammate because he borrowed my stick without asking. I have control issues that would make a therapist rich. I'm probably going to be possessive and overprotective and weird about sharing you with anyone, even professionally."
"So we're both going to be disasters."
"Epic disasters."
"And we're still going to try this?"
"I want to. Do you?"
She's quiet for so long I think she's going to say no. Then: "I want to. I'm terrified, but I want to."
"So what do we do?"
"We set rules. Clear boundaries about work. We figure out how to do this without compromising either of our careers."
"And if Harrison finds out?"
"Then we deal with it. Together. Not me cleaning up your mess or you protecting fragile little me. Together, as equals."
"I can do that."
"Can you? Because I need to know that if this goes south, you won't throw me under the bus to save your career."
"Tessa." I wait until she meets my eyes. "If it comes down to choosing between hockey and you, I choose you. Every time."
"Don't say that unless you mean it."
"I mean it."
"You don't know me well enough to mean it."
"Maybe not. But I know enough to want to know everything else."
She searches my face. "And the annulment?"
"We get it. Start fresh. Do this the right way."
"What's the right way?"
"However we want it to be. Secret for now, public when we're ready. Fast or slow, your choice."
"My choice?"
"Your choice. Your timeline. Your comfort level."
She reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. "What I want and what I need are two very different things."
"What do you want right now?" I ask, leaning into her touch.