Page 103 of Cold Feet
Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning against the boards. "Professionally, huh? Is that why Cam just about took Blackwood's head off with that shot?" He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I don't know exactly what happened, but I know that look on your face."
"What look?" I asked defensively, straightening the collar of my blazer.
"The one that says you're five seconds from either crying or punching someone, but you're too professional to do either."
I blinked, surprised at his perception. "I'm fine, Logan."
He sighed. "You know, sometimes I think you and Cam are more alike than either of you realizes. Both of you put the team first, even when it's killing you inside."
The observation hit uncomfortably close to home. Before I could respond, Coach Sully blew his whistle, calling the players together. Logan gave me one last significant look before skating away.
I spent the next hour directing the photo shoot, positioning players, suggesting angles, all while maintaining a careful buffer zone between myself and Cam. If the photographers noticed the awkwardness, they didn't mention it. I felt Cam's eyes on me several times, but I refused to meet his gaze directly, focusing instead on my tablet or on other players.
When I had to speak to him, I kept my tone professionally detached. "Cam, can you move to the left a bit? We need to balance the shot."
He complied silently, his jaw tight. When his arm brushed against mine as he moved past me later, I stepped back as if burned, pretending to check something on my phone. The hurt that flashed across his face was quickly masked, but I caught it. It twisted in my chest like a knife.
Professional to the core, that was me. That was Cam.
After practice, I was gathering my things when a shadow fell across the bench where I'd been sitting.
"You're avoiding him," Zayne said, not a question but a statement. His practice jersey was dark with sweat, his hair damp beneath his backwards cap.
I looked at my brother, his dark eyes serious. "I'm working."
"Bullshit," hesaid quietly, sitting beside me. "I saw your face during the shoot. And I know Cam. Something happened."
"It's nothing," I said, standing to face him. "Just the reality of business."
Zayne studied me, his expression softening slightly. "Lana, if he hurt you – "
"He didn't," I interrupted, then corrected myself. "At least, not intentionally. It's complicated."
"Try me."
I glanced around, making sure we were alone. The last of the photographers were packing up their gear at the far end of the rink, and most of the players had headed to the locker room.
"We... got closer over the weekend," I admitted, my voice shaky. "I let myself believe maybe... and then I saw that clip where he told you... anyway, it doesn't matter now. There's an offer from Montreal, and – " I stopped, my voice cracking.
"And you think he's choosing hockey over you," Zayne finished, understanding dawning in his eyes.
The words stung with their accuracy. "This isn't college anymore. This is his career, his future. Probably a chance to be the highest-paid left wing in the league. And I would never ask him to give that up."
"Have you asked him what he wants?" Zayne challenged. "Because from what I can see, the guy's been a mess all through practice. Nearly knocked Logan flat with a cross-check during scrimmage. Broke a stick slamming it against the boards. That's not Cam being focused on a big career move – that's Cam when he's upset."
I twisted the sapphire ring on my finger, the reminder uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter what he wants," I said quietly. "Or what I want. The circumstances haven't changed. Hockey comes first. It always has."
Zayne sighed, looking suddenly tired. "You know, for someone so smart about everything else, you can be really dense about this. For what it's worth, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but... Cam isn't the same guy he was ten years ago. Maybe you should talk to him, Lana. Actually listen to what he has to say."
"I will," I lied. "When things settle down."
Zayne clearly didn't believe me, but he didn't push. Instead, he squeezed my shoulder gently and walked away, leaving me alone with thoughts I didn't want to face and a heart that felt too heavy for my chest.
---
By evening, I was emotionally exhausted but couldn't stop myself from scrolling through social media in my condo, a glass of wine in hand and my cats, Sid and Mario, purring beside me. The online frenzy had only intensified throughout the day.
Social media's trending topics included #HitmanHeartbreak, #MurphyMovingOn, and, most painfully, #LanaDeservesBetter.
