Page 134 of Game Misconduct
He’s quiet a second, then says, “Guess that means I’ve gotta skate hard enough they choke on it.”
It’s not cocky. Not clean, either. But it’s got teeth.
I glance sideways at him. Cal’s watching me again, but not like he wants to be me. Like he wants tounderstandme.
And that unsettles me more than I care to admit.
The hotel lounge is too damn bright. Overhead lights buzzing, TV blaring some late-night highlight reel. Half the team’s spread out on couches and barstools, nursing recovery shakes or picking at overpriced snacks from the counter.
I’ve got my back to the wall, legs stretched out, hoodie pulled over my head like I’m off-limits. Doesn’t stop them.
Riley drops onto the armrest beside me, shaking a granola bar in my face. “You gonna stare at your phone all night or finally admit you’re in your feelings?”
I don’t look up. “Fuck off.”
Finn pipes up from the couch, sprawled across it like a golden retriever in a frat house. “Pretty sure he’s writing poetry in his Notes app. Real deep stuff.”
He clutches his chest dramatically. “Her eyes were like skates on fresh ice…her touch, a penalty I’d take twice.”
Laughter rolls across the room.
I stay silent. Let them have it.
Because the worst part? They’re not entirely wrong.
My phone’s in my hand. Again.
Sloane hasn’t texted.
And I sure as hell haven’t either.
Which is smart. Professional. Clean.
But it fucking sucks.
Across the room, Cal’s sitting at the high-top table, protein bar in one hand, water in the other. He’s not laughing with the others. Not chiming in.
He’s watching me again.
Not with judgment. Not with curiosity either. Just…focus. Like he’s learning the game off the ice too.
I let my head fall back against the wall, eyes closed, jaw tight.
Kid doesn’t know what he’s seeing.
But he’s seeing it.
I should head up to my room, but for once in my career, I’d rather be around my teammates, even if it means they make me crazy.
I’d rather be with them than be alone. And I don’t quite know what to do with that.
After a while, the room thins out.
Beau’s phone buzzes, and when he sees the name, his whole face softens. “Hey, my baby girl,” he says under his breath, already standing.
He throws a casual wave over his shoulder as he heads for the hallway, smile still tugging at his mouth.
Thankfully Riley and Finn—arguing over some player’s stats—decide to hit the weight room again, the silence in their wake like a rumble.
