“Great game, Malone!”Coach Barrett claps me on the shoulder as I try to escape the locker room in record time. “Your line was on fire tonight.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I continue shoving gear into my bag with zero regard for proper equipment care. “Team effort.”
“Speaking of team,” he continues, not taking the hint that I’m in a hurry, “usual post-game dinner at Carlucci’s. Strategy session for Tuesday.”
“Can’t make it tonight.” I don’t pause in my packing. “Family situation.”
Coach’s eyebrows rise. In my years with this team, I’ve never missed a post-game team dinner. “Family situation? Everything okay?”
“It’s complicated.” I zip my bag with a quick jerk. “But important.”
Understanding dawns on his face. “The woman from the family box? With the kids?”
News travels fast in a hockey organization, especially when a player leaves mid-intermission to check on someone in the family section. I’m not surprised Coach has already heard.
“Yeah.” I meet his gaze directly. “There’s a situation I need to handle.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. But I expect you at morning skate tomorrow, clear head and ready to work.”
“Always.” I shoulder my bag. “Thanks, Coach.”
I’m halfway to the door when Roman’s massive frame blocks my path. “Team dinner,” he reminds me unnecessarily.
“Can’t tonight,” I say, attempting to sidestep him.
“Because of Golda and the social media post.” It’s not a question. Roman misses nothing when it comes to team dynamics. “The ex is causing problems?”
“How did you—never mind.” I sigh, lowering my voice. “Yeah. He’s threatening to modify custody based on the photo.”
Roman’s expression darkens. “Text if you need backup. I’ll let Luca know.”
Whatever that means, I’m grateful for it. “Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”
The family section is mostly empty by the time I make it back upstairs, but Golda and the kids are waiting with Elliot. Tyson spots me first, his face lighting up.
“Great game!” he exclaims. “That assist on Roman’s goal was perfect!”
“Thanks, buddy.” I ruffle his hair, my chest tightening at his unrestrained enthusiasm. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“WE WERE YOUR LUCKY CHARMS!” Blythe announces, twirling to show off a jersey now adorned with what appears to be several chocolate stains. “THAT’S WHY YOU WON!”
“Definitely.” I crouch to her level. “With support like that, we couldn’t lose.”
My eyes find Golda’s over the kids’ heads. She looks composed but strained, the tension around her eyes visible only if you’re looking for it. Which I am.
“Everything okay?” I ask, though we both know it’s not.
“Fine for now.” She manages a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “The kids had a blast.”
“IT WAS THE BEST DAY EVER!” Blythe confirms at maximum volume. “EXCEPT WHEN MOM GOT SICK AND WENT TO THE BATHROOM FOR SEVEN HOURS!”
“It was five minutes,” Tyson corrects with brotherly precision. “And she wasn’t sick, she was just—” he hesitates, perceptive as always. “Taking a break.”
Elliot steps in smoothly. “We should probably get these two home. It’s been an exciting day.”
“I’ll drive you,” I offer immediately.
“You don’t have to—” Golda starts.
