Page 124 of Make the Play

“I haven’t.”

Jake skates past and knocks his shoulder into mine. “She kick you out of bed already?”

I snort. “You wish.”

And I wish she was in the same fucking bed as me.

Reid shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’ve got Zoe Carlson living in your condo and you’re still showing up to camp early. That’s devotion.”

“She’s not exactly a morning person,” I say, shrugging like I’m not unraveling every time she doesn’t touch me.

Eli raises a brow. “And yet you’re still in a good mood.”

Logan skates up with a grin. “That’s because he’sgetting laid.”

“Or,” Reid says dryly, “he moved her in and now he’s in too deep to realize he’s already fucked.”

Oh, I’m well aware of how fucked I am.

I roll my eyes and drop my stick to re-glove. “It’s not that deep. She’s living with me for safety.”

Ryan, always the leveler, glances over. “We know. We’re just saying. You look like a guy tryingveryhard not to be in love with his girlfriend.”

Jake barks a laugh. “And losing.”

“Spectacularly,” Reid adds.

“Don’t forget the croissants,” Logan chimes. “He’s basically been proposing with pastry.”

“She posted him again this morning,” Eli adds. “Said he’s the ‘best boyfriend in the world.’ With thesparkleemoji.”

“And the flowers,” Reid says. “Theweeklyflowers.”

“They’re not weekly,” I say automatically. “They’re… situational.”

Eli scoffs. “Jesus. Youaregone.”

“Coach!” Logan yells mid-pivot. “Walton’s in love and it’s affecting his timing!”

“Shut the hell up and skate,” Coach growls without looking.

We do.

We’re midway through breakout reps when I angle the reverse pass too wide, and Ryan has to reach for it, barely saving the play.

Coach Benson’s whistle slices through the air.

“AGAIN!” Benson growls. “Eyes up, Walton. Quit hospital-passing your damn captain!”

We scramble back into formation. I take the puck up the wing, keep my head up, and connect clean with Ryan’s blade like I actually know what I’m doing. It’s sharp. The kind of pass Benson likes. He barely nods, but I’ll take it.

We get called for water, and I’m halfway to the bench when I hear it.

“Walton. With me.”

Shit.

I peel off and follow him toward the tunnel. Benson doesn’t stop until we’re half-shaded by the overhang between the benches, out of earshot of the rest of the guys.

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