Page 51 of Almost Ours
“Sounds like you’ve been in the middle of this for a while.”
Shane let out a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” He shook his head again, jaw tight. “I don’t know how Nina’s done as well as she has. She’s tough as nails, but…” He trailed off, exhaling sharply. “I worry about her.”
And there it was. The thing he hadn’t said outright, written all over him. Shane might act like a gruff, no-nonsense type, yet when it came to Nina, there was no hiding how much he cared.
I didn’t push any further. Shane had already given me more than I’d expected.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Anyway. That’s all there is to it.”
I nodded, letting the silence settle for a moment before clapping him on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think Nina and Liam are both lucky to have you looking out for them.”
Shane shot me a look, one that was half warning, half something else. “Not a thing, Barzal.”
I smirked. “Not a thing.”
He shook his head, a twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying that he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he wanted to be.
We started toward the exit together, the arena quieter now that most of the team and fans had cleared out. The cold hit us the second we stepped outside, our breaths fogging in the crisp cold air.
Shane adjusted his coat, giving me a nod. “See you at practice Tuesday.”
I returned the nod. “See ya.”
Without another word, he turned and headed for his truck, shoulders still tense, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. I watched him for a second before heading toward my own truck, my mind still turning over everything he’d just told me.
Nina was tough, no doubt about that. But even the toughest people needed someone in their corner.
I was halfway to my truck when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Kyle’s name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” I answered, pulling the door open. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in,” he said. “Wanted to fill you in on practices this week.”
I leaned back against the doorframe, the cold biting my ears. “Sorry I wasn’t there. I figured I’d stick around here for Winterfest.”
There was a pause, and then the inevitable jab. “Winterfest or Harper?”
My brow furrowed. “How the hell do you know who Harper is–” I stopped, glancing across the lot toward Shane’s truck. His window was still fogged, his silhouette faintly visibly inside. Of course.
I exhaled through my nose. “Right. Shane.”
Kyle chuckled. “Were you ever gonna tell me about her?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said quickly, brushing it off. “How’s the team looking?”
“Good. Really good. We’ve got a big one coming up here in a couple weeks. You gonna be there?”
“Of course.”
We ran through a few more updates before hanging up, but the second the line went dead, the familiar weight settled in my chest. Guilt.
Every time I missed a practice, I told myself it was fine–Kyle had it covered, the team was in good hands. I hated not being there, though. Hated feeling like I was letting them down. Letting him down.
And beneath that, deeper and sharper, was the guilt that never really went away. The one that had nothing to do with this week, or Winterfest, and everything to do with what happened to Kyle. That voice in the back of my head whispering that I owed him more than just showing up for a game.
I sat there for a moment, the steering wheel cold beneath my hands, before finally turning the key and heading out.
