Page 95 of Gap Control

I was talking about TJ. Of course, I was talking about TJ.

"And off the ice, he's..." I paused, aware I was crossing a line I couldn't uncross. "He notices things. Takes care of people without making it about him. He's the kind of person who helps you realize you've been settling for less than you deserve."

"Sounds like strong leadership qualities."

"It's more than that." I'd already dug myself in deep, so why drop the shovel now? "He makes me want to be a person worth knowing."

The interviewer tapped the arm of her chair.

"That's... that's beautiful. This teammate sounds special."

The back of my neck prickled. "He is."

Fuck.

"Well, that's all we need for now. Thank you so much for your time."

The camera operator was already breaking down his equipment, but I stayed frozen in the chair, replaying what I'd just said. Not only the specific words but also how I'd said them. The tone. My complete lack of control over the gap between me and the audience.

I'd just told a stranger with a camera that TJ Jameson made me want to be a better person.

I hadn't said his name, but anyone who knew anything about hockey could figure it out. Center. Play-reader. The only center on our roster who fit that description.

I pulled off the small mic clipped to my shirt, handed it to the sound guy, and tried to look casual while my heart hammered against my ribs.

That's when I spotted him.

TJ, at the far end of the hall, walking fast toward the emergency exit. His shoulders were tense, head down. He was trying to escape something.

Or someone.

He'd been listening.

I followed him without thinking, pushing through the exit door into the gray afternoon. He was sitting on the concrete steps, elbows on his knees, staring at the parking lot.

"TJ."

He didn't look up. "You were talking about me."

No point in denying it. "Yeah."

"Not us. Not the... thing we do for cameras. Me."

"Yeah."

He finally turned, and his expression was something I'd never seen before. Raw. Unguarded.

"I heard it in your voice. When you said I make you want to be better, you meant it."

"I did."

"You said it to a stranger with a camera."

The weight of that hit me all over again. I had. I'd let my guard down completely, and now it was on tape. Permanent.

"Mason." TJ's voice cracked. "No one's ever—"

He stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again.

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