Page 59 of Hard Check

"More than okay." I pressed my lips to the crown of his head. "That was..."

"Adequate?"

I snorted. "Fishing for compliments?"

"Maybe." He lifted his head to meet my eyes, expression soft in the lamplight. "Did it work?"

"You're ridiculous," I echoed his earlier words, but there was no heat in it. Only affection so profound that it made my entire body ache.

He settled back against me, one arm draped across my waist in casual possession. I kneaded his shoulder through the thin cotton of his shirt, gathering courage for what came next.

The rookie camp invitation pulsed in my mind like a neon sign, impossible to ignore. Each passing minute was another minor betrayal, another moment of dishonesty layered between us.

"Carver."

"Mmm?" He didn't lift his head from my chest but surfaced from his drowsy contentment.

"I need to tell you something."

That got his attention. He propped himself up on one elbow, dark eyes searching my face with sudden alertness. "That sounds ominous."

"Not ominous. Just..." I swallowed hard, my mouth gone dry. "I got invited to a rookie camp."

For a heartbeat, maybe two, Carver's expression remained unchanged. Then, something changed. It was a subtle rearrangement of features that I might have missed if I hadn't been watching so intently.

He offered a carefully constructed smile. "That's incredible, Pike. Fucking incredible."

His response was genuine but also tense.

"Syracuse Sentinels," I continued. "July fifteenth through twenty-second."

"Rookie camp." He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair. "That's... Christ, that's huge. One step from the team's training camp. How long have you known?"

"This morning. Kevin called after the email came through."

Carver nodded, processing. When he looked at me again, his expression settled into something I recognized from team meetings—professional pride and mentorly satisfaction. It was all the right emotions arranged in all the right proportions.

"You earned this. No surprise here. You're ready for this level."

"Am I?"

"Are you kidding? Pike, you've been playing like you belong in the show since the second week of the season. This camp is just Syracuse catching up to what everyone else already knows."

He reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "I'm proud of you." He meant it. That was the worst part—every word rang with genuine emotion, but underneath it all, I sensed he was already building new walls.

I wanted to shake him, to demand he stop being so fucking reasonable about it. I wanted to rage, argue, or do something other than smile like his world hadn't tilted off its axis.

Before I could stop myself, I asked, "What happens to us?"

It was like I'd lobbed a grenade with the pin pulled. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But Pike, you can't pass this up. Not for anything. Not for me."

"I didn't say I was going to—"

"You better not even be thinking it." There was an edge to his voice. "This is your shot. It's your real-life shot at everything you've worked for since you were a kid."

"And what about this?" I gestured between us. "What about what we've been building?"

Carver's jaw worked silently for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "We always knew this was temporary. That was the whole point—no expectations, no promises. Just... this."

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