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Every practice felt like a test I was failing. I could feel it in my shoulders, my jaw, and how my hands wouldn’t unclench.

“Kedish.” Neva’s voice cut through the noise. “A word.”

I skated over to where she stood by the bench, trying to look like I had myself together.

She studied me with that expression she got when reviewing game footage, seeing past the surface stats to the pattern underneath. “Your hip looks solid.”

“Dr. Lundrig cleared me. No restrictions.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “Game three, you were in your head. I’ve seen you play scared before, like after that concussion in your second season, when you were terrified of getting hit again. But this was different.”

My jaw clenched. “It won’t happen tomorrow night.”

“I didn’t say it would.” Her expression softened slightly. “I’m asking if you know what changed. Because if you do, you can work with it. If you don’t, it’ll eat you alive out there.”

I knew what had changed. The yellow dress. The pool. The way she’d looked at me, like I was worth keeping.

“I know,” I said.

Neva nodded. “No harm in speaking with the sports psychologist. I’ll tell her you’ll reach out?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tomorrow’s a big game. Home ice, our crowd. Show them what you showed me in practice today.”

“I will.”

She started to skate toward the tunnel, but stopped and turned back. “Kedish? Whatever’s in your head—or whoever—don’t let it make you smaller. Let it make you be braver.”

She left the arena, and I tried to believe it.

Once I hit the locker room, I texted the sports psychologist and set up an appointment for tomorrow.

After changing, I should’ve gone straight to the gym until my upcoming appointment with Ellie. Worked through the tightness in my shoulders until my body was too tired to feel anything else. Instead, I found myself walking toward the treatment room, like she was magnetic north and I’d forgotten how to navigate in any other direction.

Voices echoed inside. Her voice, specifically, along with Mikael’s.

I stopped in the doorway.

She was pressing into his shoulder muscle, explaining about rotator cuff mechanics.

Mikael said something I didn’t catch. She laughed.

Weeks ago, I would’ve stormed in there with a territorial growl that made everyone uncomfortable. I would’ve staked a claim I had no right to make. Now I stood in the doorway, watching her work. Being good at her job. Helping my teammate.

The jealousy was still there, a dull ache behind my ribs. But it wasn’t about Mikael looking at her. It was about the fact that she could help everyone else easily, professionally, while every session with me felt like standing too close to a fire.

She finished the assessment, stepping back. “That should help. Ice it tonight, and come see me if it’s worse tomorrow.”

“I will.” Mikael hopped off the table. He spotted me on his way out. “Hey.”

I nodded.

He paused, his expression shifting. “She’s good at what she does, isn’t she?”

“The best,” I said.

“Lucky us.” He clapped my shoulder on his way past.