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“I’m fine.”

He puts his head back down.

Even my dog knows that’s bullshit.

The worst part is that something about the whole thing still doesn’t make sense.

Yesterday morning, Quinn was smiling at me while I practiced telling her dad I’m in love with her.

After my talk with Brennan, we were flirting over text, making plans for the evening—plans that didn’t include let’s break up.

Was that all an act?

I can’t bring myself to believe that.

Maybe I was the idiot who thought that because I fell in love, she had to fall just as hard.

But I do think she really cared for me. Even though she never said as much, it was in every little thing she did. The way she looked at me, the way she trusted me, the way it just felt so right to be with her.

So I think some more and finally land on the conclusion that something must have happened between the texting and the evening that made her change her mind.

This, at least, would explain it.

And right now, as I lie awake in bed trying to sleep, making sense of it seems like the only thing worthwhile.

I finally fall asleep with one thought: What the hell happened?

***

The next morning is a training day like any other.

Even though there’s nothing I want to do less right now than go to practice and face Brennan, I won’t hide at home like a little bitch.

By the time I get to the rink, the rest of the team is already there.

Jordan does a double take when he sees me. “Jesus.”

I drop onto the bench in front of my stall. “Good morning to you too.”

“You look like somebody dug you up.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. I’m worried you’re contagious.”

I start pulling on my gear.

Jordan keeps staring.

I ignore him.

Across the room, Cole is arguing with Camden about something, Dmitri has his headphones on, and nobody seems particularly interested in us.

Good.

The last thing I need is the entire locker room gathering around me, offering their sympathies.

Jordan drops onto the bench beside me.