Page 62 of Offside Angle

Oh.

I barely have time to decide what the hell I’m supposed to do with that information before Cole turns back to him. “Since you and my sister apparently broke up, maybe you can focus on hockey again, huh?”

My camera stays up, but I stop seeing anything through it.

They broke up.

“Fuck you, Vance,” Matteo says, and this time there’s no chirp in it. Just raw hurt. “You know I love her.”

“Yeah, well… not enough, jackass,” Cole bites back, unforgiving.

“Go screw yourself.”

The words barely leave Matteo’s mouth before Cole snaps. He lunges forward and throws a punch that lands hard against Mats’ shoulder. They crash into the stalls in a tangle of limbs and gear, shouting and shoving. The whole locker room erupts.

“Hey! Break it up!” Damian’s shout cuts straight through the mess. “Fucking children!”

He shoves his cane between them, using it as a pry bar to force them apart, then plants a firm hand on Cole’s chest and sends him back a step. Cole stumbles but stays on his feet, glaring daggers at Mats.

Matteo is breathing heavily through his nose, clearly too pissed to trust himself with words. He tears off the rest of his equipment in sharp, angry movements and storms toward the showers.

A loud Spanish curse echoes from inside, followed by a heavy thump—probably his fist meeting the tile wall.

“Must you?” Damian scolds Cole, exhausted.

“He broke her heart!” Cole snaps.

Damian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He broke himself first. Simmer down, Hollywood. Your sister’s a grown-ass woman.”

Cole scoffs and throws his helmet into his bag with enough force to make it bounce. He mutters curses under his breath as he starts stripping off the rest of his gear.

Damian gives him one last warning look before turning away, muttering “fucking idiots” as he limps out of the locker room.

I set my camera down on a bench, the noise of the celebration carrying on behind me, and walk toward the showers. I don’t step in front of Matteo’s stall. Instead, I lean against the tiled wall beside it, arms crossed over my chest as I stare up at the ceiling.

“Matteo…” I say.

He doesn’t answer right away. The only sounds are the spray of water and the distant noise of the locker room slowly emptying. I wait, listening to the way his breathing sounds uneven even over the rush of water.

Finally, his voice comes through the rush of water, rough enough that I almost don’t recognize it.

“Not now, Santi… I… I can’t fucking do this right now.”

For a second, I want to push. Not because I need answers, but because I hate hearing him sound like this and knowing I’m standing three feet away with no idea what to do for him.

So I don’t.

“Okay,” I say quietly, keeping my back against the tiled wall. “I’m right here when you can.”

The water keeps running for a while after that, and I stay exactly where I am. The noise from the locker room slowly fades until all I can really hear is the shower and the occasional movement from inside the stall.

Then the water shuts off.

Matteo still doesn’t come out.

I wait, staring at the opposite wall, until his voice finally breaks the silence.

“I lost my girl, Santi.”