"Of hurting you," he said quietly. "Of not being able to control what I am. Of wanting something I'm not sure I deserve."
WhatI am?Notwho? I should have walked away. Should have gotten in my car and driven home and maintained the professional distance I'd promised myself. Should have protected what was left of my shattered heart from another person who could destroy it.
Instead, I stepped closer.
"What if it's okay we're both terrified?" I asked. "What if we figure it out together?"
Taranis's eyes widened slightly, hope and fear warring across his features. "Cinder—"
"I'm not saying I'm ready for anything," I continued quickly. "I'm not saying I trust myself, or you, or anyone. But maybe..." I swallowed hard. "Maybe I could try. If you're willing to be patient."
The smile that spread across his face was slow and wondering, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"I've been patient all my life," he said softly. "I can be patient a little longer."
The cold radiating off him should have been alarming, but right now, standing in this parking lot with the afternoon sun warm on my back and Gavin's cruelty still echoing in my ears, it felt like something else entirely.
It felt like shelter. It wasn't threatening. It wasn't uncomfortable.
"I have to go home," I said reluctantly. "Get some sleep before the game tonight."
"I know." He didn't move to stop me, didn't try to extend the moment beyond what I was ready for. "I'll see you at the arena?"
"Yeah." I fumbled with my keys, suddenly awkward in a way I hadn't been even when Gavin was threatening me. "Taz?"
"Yes?"
"Your temperature." I hesitated, then pushed forward anyway. "If it drops again during the game—if something feels wrong—will you tell me? If I promise not to escalate it?"
Something softened in his expression. "You want me to trust you with that?"
"I want you to trust someone." I met his eyes, holding his gaze even though it made my chest tight. "And I'd like it to be me."
The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying. Then Taranis nodded slowly, a promise settling into the lines of his face.
"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you."
"Okay." I unlocked my car, sliding into the driver's seat before I could do something stupid like reach for him. "Get some rest. You look tired."
His laugh was soft, surprised. "So do you."
"I'm always tired." I started the engine, the familiar rattle somehow comforting after the chaos of the day. "It's my natural state."
I pulled out of the parking space, and in my rearview mirror, I watched Taranis stand there until I turned the corner and he disappeared from view.
My hands were still shaking on the steering wheel.
But for the first time in five months, it wasn't entirely from fear.
Chapter nine
Checking - Using the body or stick to block or separate an opponent from the puck.
Taranis
We lost against Ottawa, but they had a crazy-good first line. It wasn’t bad, or at least not embarrassing, just two-one. The interesting thing was afterwards when we had two days off before a road trip and Seph decided, in the complete opposite of his normal relaxed Cali vibe, we were all going out. It was only when I saw he’d asked the support staff—and Cinder had agreed—that I became enthusiastic. The bar Seph had chosen was exactly his style—low lighting, exposed brick, a DJ in the corner playing something with enough bass to feel in your chest but notso loud you couldn't talk. The kind of place that attracted a mix of professionals unwinding after work.
I'd made an effort. Max had insisted on me wearing some of the new clothes he'd made me buy, and the result wasn't bad.