Page 84 of Worth the Shot

“There’s no air to clear.”

His brow tightens. Not much, but enough to tell me he didn’t expect that. “I didn’t come back for drama,” he says.

“Good,” I answer. “Don’t start any.”

I hit the ice with my stick, harder than I intend to, before skating away. I look back and a flicker of something sharp crosses his expression like defensiveness or maybe desperation, but he hides it quick.

“I’ll earn my place,” he says, skating with me now. “Same as anyone.”

“You had a place,” Shayne fires, skating from across the ice. “You left it.”

His jaw flexes, and there it is, real emotion. A crack in the calm goalie façade. “This isn’t about Delaney,” he says before he can stop himself.

Every muscle in my body goes cold and tight. “You sure?” Shayne skates closer. Not threatening, just enough so he has to really look at him. “Because from where I’m standing, you didn’t just leave a team, or a city, Morris. You left her. And you didn’t look back.”

I skate over closer, settling next to Shayne. Matt’s face drains just slightly. A tell. A guilty man’s wince. “I made mistakes,” he says quietly.

“You think that sentence fixes any of them?” Shayne bites back.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

“Good,” Shayne says, “because you’re not getting it.”

Another silence, this one heavier. Matt swallows, nodding once, like he expected this, but hoped it would go differently. Then he says something I didn’t expect, directly to me. “She’s a good person, Hale.”

My chest burns. I shake my head. “She’s more than that.”

He studies me. Really studies me. Not evaluating a rival, but a man standing where he used to. “You love her?” he asks. It’s not accusatory or mocking. Just…raw.

I breathe in, slow. Steady. Shayne looks at me, wondering if I'll answer. There’s no point lying, but I don’t owe this coward anything.

“That,” I say, “is not something I’ll ever discuss with you.”

Something in him flickers like regret or maybe loss. Memory. The face of a man who didn’t realize what he was doing until it was already done. He adjusts his blocker, the movement rigid. “Well,” he says softly, “sounds like a yes to me. Just…don’t fuck it up.”

My blood spikes and not with anger but something darker. “You don’t get to give me advice about her.”

He nods like he deserves that. “Letting her go isn’t something you come out of unscathed.” He runs a hand over his face like he’s trying to erase months of exhaustion.” Just speaking from experience. See you in the crease.”

He pushes his mask down, skates backward, and heads for the net. I watch him go, pulse still hammering. Not because he scared me or because I’m unsure, but because one thing is crystal clear now:

This isn’t just a roster move.

This isn’t just a goalie trade.

This is the past walking straight into my future…and I’m not letting it take a single goddamn thing from me.

Not the team.

Not my place.

And absolutely not Delaney Collins.

Chapter Thirty-One

Delaney

I wake up around nine in the morning. I look over to notice Brennan’s gone, so I grab my phone for light and clarity on what day and time it is, and I see it. A text from Brennan that reads: Didn’t wanna wake you. You looked so beautiful and peaceful asleep in my bed. Be back soon. I love you.