Page 31 of The Fine Line

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“On the line, Sutton. Now.”

I blow out a breath, meet Holt’s smug stare through the glass, and skate to the goal line.

And as much as I’d love to pretend his words didn’t get to me, they echo in my head with every damn sprint.

And for hours after.

You’re messy. You’re a liability. You’re not a team player. Nothing to look up to. Nothing to be proud of.

“Well?” Blake asks. “Was it Holt?”

“It was me,” I mumble.

“What?”

“It was nothing,” I say, sitting up. “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

“Rhett—”

“How about you and that girl?” I ask. “How’s that going? What’s her name again?”

Blake shoots me a look. He’s letting me off the hook, but we both know this conversation isn’t over.

We sit in silence for a while, watching people skate by.

Then Blake speaks again.

“I can’t believe it’s really your last summer here.”

I glance at him, then shove his shoulder lightly. “Don’t go soft on me now, Di Fazio.”

“I mean, it’s going to be so quiet around here,” he muses. “So unbelievably peaceful.”

I chuckle, exhaling. “I’ll miss you too, bud.”

“Guess I’ll just have to watch your face on TV from now on,” he says. Then after a beat, “You’ve got big things coming, Rhett.”

I blow out a slow breath. “I know.”

“It only gets better from here.”

I nod, barely.

We can only hope.

eight

CAROLINE

Austin, TX, USA

“I hope you feel ready for this,” Bryan says as he finishes adjusting my in-ear headphone and hands me the microphone.

“I’m always ready,” I tell him.

Because I am. Because I have to be.

Bryan quickly briefed me on what I’d need to cover pregame and into the first period—and then it was go time.

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