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My chest twisted, my grip tightening around the glass, the condensation cool against my heated palm. I wanted to press it against the back of my neck.

“But she says she hates love,” Itzel said with a shrug, bringing the glass to her lips.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.” I dragged a hand along the back of my neck, eyes scanning the room without really seeing it. Hating the thought of someone doing all that for her.

Someone who wasn’t me.

“She thinks love doesn’t exist for her. That there’s no one who cares enough to stick around.” She frowned, taking a bigger sip this time. “Thinks she’s better off on her own.”

I had nothing to say.

How could I? Love and romance weren’t remotely on my radar. Or hadn’t been. Hell, in a lot of ways, I agreed with her. Why let someone in? Why bother with all that?

A firm hand clamped my shoulder, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Coach Monroe.” A man in a tailored suit extended his hand. “Hell of a piece that dropped this morning. Didn’t know you were involved with the Women’s Sports Foundation. Good look. And the visit with the college team? My daughter plays, so I know stuff like that matters,” he said, giving a firm shake.

I nodded, not used to the attention. “Got one of those, too,” I said, smiling at the thought of Goldie out on the ice with her pink gear. “Well, she’s five, so not quite the same.”

“Being a girl dad, you get it,” said the man with a smile. “Look forward to what you do this next season. And congrats on the win.” He tipped his head toward the Cup before disappearing into the crowd.

“That was nice of you to do all those things,” Itzel said, sidestepping closer as someone walked through with a hors d'oeuvres tray.

“Graciella arranged for all of it.” My fingers itched to text her a thank you, feeling bad that the only response I’d given her was a middle finger.

“She’s good at what she does.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” I said, then changed the subject. “How did you two become friends?”

Itzel ran a finger up and down the stem of her glass, candlelight casting shadows on her face. “We’ve all been friends since elementary—me, Graciella, and Ariella. Grew up down the street from each other. We’d hang out all the time, till Chella left at eighteen. Then Ari last year.” She paused. “But now they’re back, and it’s like old times.”

“Was she always this way?”

Fuck. I needed to stop talking about her.

Her finger paused midstroke, and she bit the corner of her lip. “She hasn’t always been like this. It’s not my story to tell, but…she spent years being what someone else wanted.” Her eyes met mine. “Graciella is fierce, loyal, and the hardest-working person I know. Everything she has is because she fought for it. You’re lucky to have her on your side.”

My mouth fell open, my brain and my tongue struggling to agree on a response. A server squeezed behind me, muttering an apology as champagne flutes clinked together near my shoulder.

“We should probably mingle,” Itzel said, when they were out of earshot, nodding toward the middle of the room. “I think we’re supposed to be making good impressions on these people.”

We were.

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” I drained the rest of the amber liquid. Hoping it would burn away the thought that I had the wrong woman at my side.

We steered clear of all things Graciella for the rest of the event. But it wasn’t because we were having a flowing conversation and getting to know one another. More like we had an unspoken agreement to shake hands and kiss ass with industry people.

I was shit at both.

Now the ride home was quiet. Too damn quiet.

Nothing but some muted song playing through the cab of my truck. My fingers itched to turn it up, but that felt like admitting how uncomfortable I was.

I’d told Graciella that was what I looked for in a romantic partner…yet the silence permeating the air was too much for me to handle.

“Are you sure you’re okay doing this?” I asked Itzel, keeping my focus trained on the traffic ahead. A long line of red brake lights and flickering turn signals.

“Huh? Doing what?”