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“Parker.”

The pounding on my door interrupts him. He takes a step forward, and Derek is suddenly standing behind him. “We have to go. You have training.”

Evan glances at his wristwatch. “Shit.” He walks toward me and holds out his hand to me again.

As if hypnotized, I grab it. Dammit. That gentle pressure. A wake-up call from times long gone. Once and for all.

“Parker, I’ll be in touch. I’m going over Carly’s package in detail and will discuss my remaining questions with you.”

Derek pats him on the shoulder and pulls him away from me.

I don’t say anything else, just watch them walk away.

No matter what happens next, this will always be the end: Evan will be swept away by the world of hockey. Away from me again.

Chapter 3 – Evan

With a precision I hadn’t even seen myself this season, I shoot every puck into the upper right corner. It’s as if the puck is magically drawn to the same exact spot.

After the last Shot, I skate to the Boards, where My Captain and first-line Wing, Miller, along with Spears, one of our defensemen, Are already waiting for the small-area drill. Three other players make up the opposing team, against whom we’re supposed to practice quick decision-making in tight spaces. One of the coaches tosses the puck into the mini-area, and we rush toward it. In situations like this, there’s no trace of the league’s glamour. With the puck on my blade, I’m pushed against the boards and immediately boxed in. Clark, another one of our defensemen, is right on my back and putting me under intense pressure. We have at most half a minute to save the puck and turn the situation in our favor. I have to react instinctively, drop into a spin, and use the tiny gap between the defense and Miller to feed him the puck onto his blade with a short, hard pass. Without breaking stride, he slams the puck into the net.

With a big grin, he races toward me. “Dude. You’re on fire. Save some energy for tomorrow’s game.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” I reply, and Miller gives me a light shove. Relaxed, we glide across the ice. We rotate players and dive into the next drills until I end up in the locker room drenched in sweat.

The season has gone well so far—very well actually. But the way I feel today is unreal. This is a whole new level. It’s not because I ran into Parker again. No, not at all. With the shitstorm currently raging online, I should be cowering in the corner, trembling with panic. But I’m not. Because Parker says we’ll get through this. He knows Joaquin and his game. I’ll come out of this unscathed. I believe him. I have to believe it. If the only good thing this mess brings me is Parker, I’ll get through this. Dammit. Thoughts of him—his skin beneath my fingers, his slightly tousled hair—I have to get them out of my head if I want to hop in the shower now.

Good heavens. These fantasies should be as far away from me as possible right now, but I can’t help a spark of hope bubbling up inside me.

Parker. At first, I thought he was here to expose me. An absurd thought. No matter how much we argued when we broke up, Parker was always fair and apparently still is.

The fact that he doesn’t want to handle my case personally is kind of understandable. But from the second I realized he’s here to defend me, my thoughts have been fixated on him. He’s going to get me through this. His whole demeanor is so damn familiar. Seeing him was like coming home in that stupid conference room.

I never would have expected him to still have the same effect on me after eight years. My dreams and memories of him are still vivid. At some point I decided that the way I picture him must simply be a completely exaggerated image that isn’t true. Can’t be true.

And yet I feel lighter than I have in a long time.

As we’re getting ready, one of the rookies, Sid Philips, comes up to me. He’s a good guy, hungry for ice time, and an excellent wing. After he went a bit overboard at the beginning of the season with his new role as a professional athlete on one of the league’s top teams, Miller took him under his wing. Since then, Sid has stayed out of the headlines, and his already fantastic performance has benefited from it.

“Hey, Sinclair, are you coming with us today?” he asks me.

“Where to?” I ask carefully.

“Save your breath, kid,” the others chime in.

“Sinclair’s going home to meditate now,” our goalie calls out.

A few more harmless jabs fly my way. The kind I’m used to. I’m the loner, the one who’d rather spend another hour at the gym than sit around lazily at home.

But Sid isn’t fazed. “To Miller’s for dinner. He invited me. And you don’t have any plans with anybody else anyway. I thought we could watch film of Edmonton’s power play for tomorrow’s game.”

I look up and straight into our captain’s eyes. He’s watching me calmly, firmly, and questioningly. My instinct is to say no. As always. I can’t stand big parties, and I have a hard time with these small family gatherings, too. Sitting together with the guys as a team is pretty much the only thing I enjoy doing besides our official events. I love my team.

Letting someone get close to me as an individual is too risky for me.

But with Sid there, Miller surely won’t find a chance to pry into my business and ask stupid questions.

Sid grins at me innocently, and Blake nods at me, so for whatever reason I agree. “Okay. Should we drive there together from here?”