Page 41 of Face Off
A long silence. Then, finally, Coach sighs. “You’re one of the hardest-working lads on this team. But if you don’t start being honest about your body, you’ll burn yourself out before we even hit playoffs.”
The warning lands heavy, but I nod, forcing a grin. “Got it, boss. Honest as the day is long.”
He gives me a look that says he knows I’m lying, but he lets me go.
Back in the changing room, the guyss are laughing about something Murphy said, voices bouncing off the tiles. I throw myself into the noise, into the banter, but inside I’m spiralling.
Because the truth is, I’m terrified.
Not of the pain, I can handle pain. Always have.
But of what comes after. If the hip goes, if I can’t skate the way I used to, what am I? What happens to the lad whose only trick is being the cheerful one, the workhorse, the glue guy?
And what happens if Chloe finds out?
The thought blindsides me. But it’s there, lodged in my chest. She looked at me last night like I was strong, solid. What if she sees through it? What if she realises I’m one bad turn away from breaking?
I shove the thought down, plaster on my grin, and chirp Murphy about his terrible taste in music. But even as the guys laugh, my mind drifts back to Chloe. To her lips. To the way her hand felt in mine, small and warm and steady.
For the first time all day, the knot in my chest loosens.
Because maybe, just maybe, she’s worth the risk.
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHLOE
The memory hits before I even open my eyes. The dizzy, spinning, too-much-too-soon moment at the door last night when Ollie leaned in. When I didn’t stop him. When the world tilted and finally gave me what I’d been craving since that first cheeky grin.
I’d expected guilt to follow me into the morning. Regret. Some creeping sense that I’d crossed a line I shouldn’t have. But when I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, all I can do is smile like an idiot.
Of course, reality isn’t far behind. There’s still Murphy. Still Sophie. Still the fact that Ollie has to sneak around like a teenager because the team would lose their collective minds if they knew.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Hannah. Incoming video call.
I groan but swipe to answer. Her face fills the screen, hair up in a messy bun, mug of coffee in hand, eyes alight with mischief.
“Well??” she demands, not even bothering with hello.
I blink at her, trying for innocence. “Well what?”
“Don’t play dumb. How are you feeling about the kiss?”
Heat creeps up my neck. I tuck the duvet tighter around me, but I know I’m grinning like a fool. “Fine. I think. It was nice, good even.”
Hannah shrieks so loudly I flinch, fumbling to turn down the volume. “What I want to know is what happens now?”
I bury my face in the pillow, muffling my voice. “I don’t know really.”
“‘Really?’ she says. Hannah leans closer to her camera, eyes wide. “Chloe, you’ve been pining after this man like a Victorian widow for weeks. What happens now is you carry on flirting.”
I groan, dragging the pillow tighter. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm-hmm. And you’re glowing.” She smirks, sipping her coffee. “Oh, you are so gone for him.”
I peek out from the pillow. “I’m not,”
“You are. Look at you. That dopey little smile. You’re cooked.”
