Page 74 of Double Puck

But will anyone notice that?

We head back into the locker room, and I sit in my stall with my head back against the wood.

Nobody talks to me. Not one soul.

I sit there with my elbows on my knees, staring at the Bears logo on the floor, running the play back on a loop like some kind of self-inflicted punishment reel.

The chip was there. The lane was wide open.

I had the angle, had the time, had every single piece of information I needed to make the right call.

And instead…

I didn't. Because — what? Because the flashy play was more fun? Because I wanted the highlight reel instead of the smart play?

Because I always want the highlight reel.

A hand lands on the top of my head, scrubbing my hair hard enough to mess up hair that's already a disaster.

"Keep your chin up." Declan's voice rumbles from above, low and gruff, but not slowing down as he passes. "You played good."

"Yeah. Like it matters." I yank my gloves off and toss them into the stall.

The thing is, six weeks ago this loss would've rolled off me. I would've cracked the joke, bought the first round at Breakers, turned the whole thing into a funny story by midnight.

But not tonight. Not when I've got so much to lose.

Somewhere in this very building, right now, a woman being paid to judge my every move is probably opening her laptop and writing down exactly what just happened out there.

I hate that.

"Beck." Zoey appears in the doorway of the locker room in her Bears hoodie, Morgan waving over her shoulder before Mason scoops her up.

The media's gone, so Coach has let family through.

Zoey crosses the room and sits beside me like I'm sixteen again, getting the lecture of my life because she'd caught me climbing through my bedroom window at three in the morning with one shoe, no shirt and absolutely no explanation for where my pants had gone.

"Before you say it," I start, "yes, I know. I lost us the game."

"I wasn't going to say that." She bumps my shoulder. "Okay, I was going to say that. But then I decided to be a supportive sister instead. It's my last night. I'm on best behavior."

"Morgan's list said goal, fight, and point at her. I went zero for three."

"She's ten. She'll forgive you by the airport." Zoey pauses, and I feel her smile from beside me. "Darcy has to write it up, you know."

I look at her and frown. "What do you mean?"

"The turnover. The mistake that cost you the game." Zoey's eyes are steady on mine. "And when you read it in her report, you're going to want to make it mean something it doesn't."

"I literally have no idea what you're trying to say right now."

“What I'm saying," Zoey huffs, rolling her eyes. "Is that Darcy has to do her job, you idiot.”

My sister slaps up the side of my head like I didn't just wear enough physical brutality on the ice.

"Ow! Christ, Zo!" I wince and rub where I've just been abused. “I know that. I know she has to put it in the report.”

“Do you?”