She tilts it so I can see the description. “Rookie goalie falls for a teammate’s daughter. She lies about it, he has to take them through playoffs while keeping the secret. They have lots of extremely athletic sex.”
“That sounds awful?—”
“It’s actually quite funny.” Her voice is carefully neutral, but there’s color in her cheeks.
“His teammate’s daughter? That’s Rule Number One in hockey code. Family members are off limits.”
We stare at each other across the aisle. The plane noise fades. The team fades. It’s just her eyes on mine and the weight of everything we’re not saying.
“Do they at least win the cup?” I ask quietly. “Or does his teammate murder him?”
Her breath catches. “You’ll have to read it and find out.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Doc!” Rodriguez twists around in his seat. “Question about my PT exercises—can I do extra sets if everything feels good?”
“No,” Marnie and I say at the same time.
Rodriguez grins. “You two are very in sync for people who definitely aren’t fucking.”
“Rodriguez,” I warn.
“Just an observation, Cap.” He turns back around, still grinning.
The moment’s broken. Marnie goes back to her book and I pretend to watch game tape while actually thinking about goalies and captains and how I’m absolutely going to prove that captains are more interesting.
Montreal’s game is rough.
We win 3-2 but it’s ugly—too many penalties, too much time in our own zone, Luca standing on his head to keep us in it. I take two stupid penalties that nearly cost us, playing angry without knowing why.
Except I do know why. I’m watching Marnie between shifts, professional and focused, and thinking about the other night.
Back at the hotel, I text her.
Room service?
Marnie
Exhausted. Rain check.
I try to read meaning into the words. Is she actually tired or avoiding me?
Tomorrow?
Marnie
Maybe. Sleep well.
I don’t sleep well. I lie awake thinking about the way she shut down when I tried to reciprocate, the relief in her eyes when I didn’t push.
Next morning isa travel day to Ottawa.
The team’s loose in the hotel lobby, talking shit and stealing each other’s coffee. Marnie’s with Jake, going over something on his tablet, looking more tired than yesterday.
On the bus, she sits three rows up. Close enough to see, far enough to maintain distance.
She’s reading again. Different book, same general aesthetic—shirtless hockey player, title I can’t quite make out from here.
