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“You’re staying here half an hour longer for sprints because of inappropriate behavior,” he’s immediately told off.

The others chuckle to themselves and pat Sid on the back.

I, on the other hand, put on my stoic face and pretend I didn’t hear a thing. Still, I find myself replaying the last seconds with Sid. What made the assistant blurt out that stupid comment?

Nothing, says my inner voice. Absolutely nothing. He’s an asshole.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Sid, who seems so sure of his masculinity and sexuality that such a ridiculous comment doesn’t faze him at all. He’s even cracking jokes about it himself. Good grief, I’m eight years older than him and I’m as insecure as a teenager.

And as for inappropriate behavior, the assistant should stay half an hour longer himself.

In that moment, I envy Sid. I envy his self-assurance that he can solve the problems his relationship brings. That he’ll even be admired by people for it, because he has the guts to steal Valentina away from me.

None of that would matter to me. I don’t want praise or recognition. I just want some peace and quiet and to be able to keep playing hockey when I tell people that Parker and I are together.

My stomach clenches into a hot ball.

Is that what I’m planning to do? Is that the next step?

First things first: the gym and a shower are the next step. And we’ll see if the head coach gives us hell.

Coach Denner lifts his gaze from his desk and stares at us through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?” he snaps at us.

He leans back slightly from the desk and crosses his arms over his chest. “Does this have anything to do with how you two were acting toward each other in practice?”

That’s my cue. “That was on me. Sorry. I was messing with Sid. Everything’s fine between us. You can forget about it.”

“Obviously not, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” Denner is not happy.

Fuck, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’m the model student, not the kind of person who gets summoned to the principal’s office. I have only myself to blame. It was my signature that authorized Parker’s agency to represent me. I’d agreed to Valentina’s engagement.

“As you’ve surely seen, the press assumed that Valentina Garcia and I were a couple.” I’m waiting expectantly for Coach Denner to catch up. He gestures with his hand for me to continue. “That was never true. We’re just friends.”

“And?” Now he is genuinely confused. He glances at Sid.

Sid nods. “Valentina and I are together.”

“Are you telling me you’re stealing my star center’s girlfriend? Mere weeks before the playoffs? Are you kidding me?”

We both speak up at once. “Nothing of the sort happened. We only wanted to warn you that the media might get that impression.”

Denner curses under his breath. “Can’t you two use your brains for once and keep your dicks in your pants? It’s less than a month until the playoffs. What were you thinking, Sid? Did you have nothing better to do these past few weeks than sleep with the center’s girlfriend, who, as everyone knows, is on your own line?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say, defending Sid. “The two of them met through me. We don’t have to air our private business here. We shouldn’t. It was just a warning.”

Denner sighs. “All right. I’m too old for this crap. But have you guys ever heard of discretion? Hm?” He shakes his head defiantly. “Did any of you notice that I’m in the middle of my fourth divorce and my son . . . my . . . Oh, never mind. No. Nobody gets to know about that because it’s private. I hope the same goes for this story, and that your visit here was for nothing.”

“We’ll assume that’s the case,” I confirm. “If the press or anyone else hears anything, the club has been warned.”

Our coach lets out a heavy sigh. “Thanks. For the warning. And now, for the rest of the season, all I want to hear or see from the two of you is hockey, hockey, hockey. Nothing else. Are we clear?”

“That’s the only thing that matters to me.” I lie without batting an eye, looking Coach Denner straight in the eye. It’s a ritual I’ve perfected over the years.

“Thanks, Coach,” Sid says, and I imagine I hear the relief in his voice.

“And about the divorce, Coach, if you want to talk . . . ” I say.

Coach Denner makes a brusque, dismissive gesture with his hand. “Get out of here.”