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“I mean, this view away from the others,” I say, not sure if I improved my statement.

“You feeling misanthropic, Carrington?”

I give a relieved sigh. “Maybe.” I tear off my shirt, and his gaze jerks to the floor. “I’m, um, sorry about the other night.”

“It was my fault,” he says. “I don’t party that much. I didn’t notice anything off. Maybe there wasn’t.”

“You have too much faith in my cocktail making abilities.”

“I like your smoothies.”

“But you haven’t—” I grin, remembering last night. “I forgot. You’re a super fan.”

His face flames. “Did I tell you that?”

My stomach thuds. He doesn’t remember that. He was super drunk.

“I think you’re going to play great tonight,” I say instead.

He tenses, and I hope he doesn’t believe in hockey jinxes.

“You were called to join us for a reason,” I remind him. “And it really is all about mindset.”

“I don’t know...”

I remove my phone, then scroll for my favorite affirmation soundtrack. I pop one of my earbuds out and hand it to him. His eyes widen.

“Put it in,” I say. “This is what I listen to.”

He slides it in slowly. “My second-grade teacher wouldn’t approve of sharing earbuds.”

“I’ll keep your secret safe, Fitzpatrick.”

He gives a strangled laugh, and I beam.

A few people glance at us, and his shoulders do that cowering thing. I nudge him, and heat brands my shoulder where our skin meets.

“This works,” I promise him.

“You do this?”

“It’s my soundtrack,” I say.

He grins and is quiet. The affirmations wash over us, and I remove the rest of my clothes and change into hockey clothes.

It’s not completely true. I listen to affirmations sometimes, but mostly I spend the pre-game time joking around with Troy and Luke and Axel.

Still, I think this is what he needs, and I’m happy to sit beside him and listen to affirmations.

His cologne wafts over me. I don’t recognize the scent, but maybe it’s not from Saks Fifth Avenue, where I normally buy my cologne. I inhale, then realize it might be a cotton and sweat and soap smell that’s all his own.

I smile, and when we’re called to the tunnel, Ifeel lighter.

NOAH

I gave Finn back his earbud when we left the locker room, but the affirmations still ring in my mind. I repeat them to myself as we totter through the tunnel, and even as the introducer announces us to the Vegas audience. Then the applause, polite and muted, fills me. I allow myself to take in the lights, take in the crowd, feel the energy swirl around me.

Maybe I will go back to Providence, though I don’t allow my mind to linger on that thought. But I am here now, and that’s fucking great. I glance in Finn’s direction, and his eyes catch mine, as if he were also looking for me.