A logical part of my brain, the coach, the strategist, is raising an alarm.
This is rushed. You don’t hand someone a blueprint for your darkest desires this early in the plan. You build walls first, then doors.
But that voice is drowned out by the reality of the moment. I’m in Milan. The city is a buffer zone thousands of miles from my local grocery store, my regular gym, and the familiar faces that know me outside of hockey. Here, the consequences feel contained.
An experiment far from my real life.
Violet looks at me not with the respect of a teammate or the blank admiration of a fan, but with curiosity that mirrors my own. She’s a variable I can’t predict, but a risk that feels calculated.
I want to see if my theory holds.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and try to think about something else.
It lasts half a second.
I’d love to see Violet bound to my bed with a silk wrap over her eyes. I want to touch every inch of her body to see how she reacts. Learn if she can follow commands while I push her patience to the absolute limits.
My fantasy is interrupted as Rissa launches herself onto the couch and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Captain Clutch,” she yells, shaking me. “Earth to hero.”
I force a smile, hoping the heat in my face isn’t obvious. “Hydrate or die, Rissa.”
They’re all buzzing, already talking matchups, plays we can work on cleaning up, who we might face next. The TV flashes highlights from our game, and every time my last goal plays, the room erupts again.
My head is still floating somewhere else as I watch myself on screen.
Violet is colorful, fearless, and absolutely not part of my five-year plan. I’ve built my whole life around discipline. Being steady and unshakable. Until Alisha, of course. My team looks to me when things get tough. I don’t get distracted. I don’t get reckless.
Kissing her felt reckless. But it also felt like breathing for the first time since we got here.
Laughter explodes from the kitchen as someone drops a plate. Music changes. Someone chants about gold medals. I look around at my team, and my pride swells in my chest so hard that it almost hurts.
I’ll never show emotion for these girls, or in front of them. But I can’t deny that I feel it.
Quarterfinals.
One step closer to everything we’ve worked for. And somehow, in the middle of it, I’ve let someone slip past my defenses.
I press my thumb to my bottom lip without thinking. If this is what getting checked by Violet feels like, I’m not sure I want to skate away.
My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I grab it, hoping it’s not Violet wanting to discuss the things on that piece of paper.
My face falls when I see that it’s the nurse from Keisha’s care facility. Panic rises in my chest at the thought of something being wrong when I’m so far away.
I slip off the couch and head into the hallway, the noise fading behind me as I glance at the screen.
Willow Creek Care Facility.
I answer before it rings a third time. “This is Skye.”
The nurse’s voice is warm and familiar. “Hi, honey. I just wanted to give you a quick update on your aunt.”
I brace myself even though her tone doesn’t sound like it’s filled with bad news. You learn to brace yourself, anyway.
“She’s having a really good day.”
I feel my shoulders sag.
“She remembered your name this morning. And she’s been telling everyone her niece is going to win the gold medal.”
