"You're staring," Max said.
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are. And if you don't go talk to him in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to do it for you."
I shot him a look that would've sent most people running. “He’s with awoman.”
Max just grinned wider. "I'm serious, Taz. I will walk over there and tell him you've been mooning over him since the game."
"I have not been—"
"Mooning," Max repeated cheerfully. "Pining. Brooding. Pick your favorite verb." He leaned forward and mouthed, “We both know he isn’t straight.”
Which I knew sent heat to my face. Besides, how did Max know? I certainly didn't. I set my drink down harder than necessary. "You're insufferable."
"And you're a coward." He said it without heat, just matter-of-fact. "Which is wild, considering you throw yourself in front of frozen rubber and hockey players for a living."
My jaw tightened. He wasn't wrong. I'd faced down slapshots that could break bones, survived two decades of a sport that chewed people up and spat them out.
But walking across a club to talk to a man who'd seen me at my most vulnerable?
Terrifying.
"What if he doesn't want to talk to me?" I asked quietly. I lowered my voice. “What if he’s not… you know.” I didn’t say “not into me” but Max knew what I meant. And to be honest, atthis point I just wanted to get to know the man a little better. I’d never been one for casual hook-ups.
Max's expression softened. "Then he's an idiot. But Taz, you won't know unless you try."
I looked back at Cinder. He was laughing again, but there was something brittle around the edges of it. Something that didn't quite reach his eyes.
I knew that look. Knew what it felt like to smile when you were holding yourself together with sheer willpower.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I stood.
Max's grin could've powered the entire city. "That's my boy."
"Shut up."
I made my way through the VIP section, weaving past teammates and strangers, my heart doing things it shouldn't be doing. The music seemed louder suddenly, the lights brighter, every step carrying me closer to a conversation I had no idea how to start.
Cinder's friend saw me first. Her eyes widened slightly, recognition flickering across her face, and she said something to Cinder that made him turn.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us moved. He looked surprised, then wary, then something else I couldn't quite read. His gaze dropped briefly to my knee—the one that should've been ruined—then back to my face.
"Hi," I said, because apparently my brain had abandoned all higher functions.
"Hi," he echoed.
His friend was watching us with undisguised interest. The rest of his group had gone quiet, clearly trying to figure out who I was and why I was standing at their table. Other players were instantly recognized, but behind the mask, I kept myself private as much as I could.
"I, uh..." I cleared my throat. "I wanted to thank you. For yesterday." I slapped my leg. “All healed.”
Cinder's expression shifted, confusion in his gaze as it slid to my leg. "I was just doing my job, but I’m glad to see it’s okay."
"You were doing more than that." I hesitated, then pushed forward because Max was right—I'd been hiding too long. "Can I buy you a drink?"
His eyes widened fractionally. Around us, his friends exchanged glances, and I could feel their curiosity like a physical weight.