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By the time we eventually got out of bed, I was starving, Max had reminded me twice that I was supposed to be taking it easy, and I'd threatened to lock him in the bathroom if he used the words responsible adult even once.

Fortunately, the team had been given most of the recovery day to themselves. Video was available for anyone who wanted it, treatment was mandatory for anyone Cinder had put on his list—which unfortunately included me—and Coach had scheduled a meeting for late afternoon, but otherwise, everyone had been strongly encouraged to stay away from the rink and rest.

After five playoff games in nine days, nobody objected.

By noon, Keegan had somehow transformed a recovery day into a team lunch, although judging from the group chat, organizing twenty professional hockey players was considerably more difficult than playing against Vegas.

I was scrolling through the latest argument about restaurants when Max leaned over my shoulder to read.

“Keegan decided on downstairs at one.”

“He decided that twenty messages ago, but nobody listened.”

“That may explain why he's now typing in capitals.”

Another message appeared before I'd finished speaking.

KEEGAN: IF YOU TWO ARE HAVING SEX I DON'T WANT TO KNOW BUT LUNCH IS AT ONE.

I stared at my phone.

Max's chin was almost resting on my shoulder now, which meant he saw the next message at the same time I did.

KEEGAN: CINDER SAYS YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE SEX.

That was immediately followed by:

CINDER: I DID NOT SAY THAT.

Then Keegan replied:

Heavily implied.

I put my phone face down on the table and informed Max that I was transferring at the end of the season.

He kissed my temple as he straightened. “You'd miss us within a week.”

The fact that he was probably right was deeply irritating.

Lunch was being held in a private room off one of the hotel's restaurants, which was presumably the only reason management had agreed to let a group of playoff hockey players congregate without creating a security nightmare.

Not everyone came. Some of the guys had family in Vegas, while others were sleeping or taking advantage of a few rare hours without hockey obligations, but enough people had shown up that conversation spilled into the hallway before Max and I reached the door.

I stopped just inside.

For a moment, last night came back with enough force that I could hear my father's voice echoing along the arena corridor.

Ask him about his mother.

There had been teammates behind us when he'd shouted it. Coaches and arena employees had heard him demand that Max ask what I'd done to her and why I'd spent years paying him, and I hadn't thought about that part afterward because Doryu had taken me upstairs and changed everything I believed about my life.

Now I was about to walk into a room full of people who'd heard enough to wonder.

Except when I looked around the table, nobody was staring.

Phoenix and Taz were arguing about something on the menu, Dante and Baelor were trying to convince Keegan that ordering three appetizers exclusively because he liked them didn't constitute sharing, and Cinder was drinking coffee with the carefully neutral expression of someone enjoying every second of the argument while pretending not to listen.

Nobody asked about my father.