Page 148 of The Fine Line
He’s not wrong—ithasbeen a long few weeks.
Practice, travel, game, press, repeat. We’ve gotten through it by sitting beside each other on buses and planes with our headphones in, retreating to separate hotel rooms at night. I’ve been logging overtime, watching footage twice over just to fill the silence. And Rhett’s playing the best hockey I’ve seen from him in a while. He’s got his grit back—playing like he’s angry, like there’s something he’s trying to sweat out.
Not that I’m proud of it, but hey—at least he can’t say I never did anything for him.
His gaze drifts down my body. It’s not the first time, but it feels different now. Less curious. More… haunted. Like he’s remembering, not imagining.
I straighten, smoothing my blouse and adjusting the badge around my neck. Rhett’s brow furrows.
“Did you file some paperwork I don’t know about?” he asks.
“What?”
He gestures at mybadge.
I glance down at it, my mouth falling open when I see it readsCaroline Sutton.
I groan. “Maddy.”
“Who?”
“One of your fangirls was working security tonight. She was sweet—I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”
He steps closer, eyeing the badge.
“Doesn’t look too bad to me,” he says softly.
The energy shifts between us, and we both feel it, our gazes lifting to meet.
“Caroline?”
I jump at the voice behind me.
Dad.
Snatching the badge from Rhett’s hands, I turn it around and press it to my chest. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, hon. I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
“I’m here,” I say with a smile.
“Well, you’re welcome to hang back here if you don’t want to sit in the suite. You can be on the bench for warm-ups too. We’ll be getting started in about twenty.”
“I’m gonna go stretch,” Rhett says.
“Okay. Good luck,” I offer.
He nods, tight-lipped, and disappears into the locker room.
“Ah, crap,” Dad mutters, pulling out his phone and stuffing a stack of papers under his arm. “Hang on one sec.”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I made some last-minute tweaks to the lineup. Need to get the final up to the press box.”
I glance down at the page on top of the pile. “Is this it?”
He checks, then hands it over. “Yep.”
