"He didn't fight for me to stay."
"Cinder." She crossed the room and crouched in front of my chair, the way Taz had done in his kitchen when I'd been falling apart over the notes. The parallel was so sharp it nearly drew blood. "I have watched that man orbit you for months like you were the only fixed point in his universe. I have watched him track you across rooms he was pretending not to notice you in. I have watched his vitals stabilize when you walk into the medical bay, and yes, I noticed that, because it's my job to notice things, and that particular thing was impossible to miss."
My vision blurred. I blinked hard.
"Whatever happened," she said, "whatever made him pull away, it wasn't because he stopped wanting you. Men like Taz don't stop. They just convince themselves that wanting is the thing that's dangerous."
“And what if you’re wrong?” I whispered.
“Go talk to him. And I mean now, don’t wait until he comes back.”
"I'm not on the travel roster. Dunn—"
"Forget Dunn." Her eyes flashed with something that made me understand, suddenly and completely, why this woman had survived a decade in professional sports medicine. "I'm your direct supervisor, and I'm telling you that a member of this medical staff needs to be present for the remainder of the road trip. Levin might be injured. Patel will be handling that. The team needs coverage."
I knew it was a stretch but she straightened up and pulled her phone from her pocket, already typing. "I'm booking you on the first flight to Nashville tomorrow morning. That's their next game. I’m sending you the hotel and flight info, and telling Coach you’re on your way."
"Nancy, I can't just—"
"You can," she said firmly. "Because I'm telling you to. Because the team needs their nurse, and their goaltender needs—" She stopped. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. "He needs you, Cinder. Whatever wall he's built, whatever reason he thinks he has for standing behind it alone, you are the only person I have ever seen get through to him. So get on the plane. Do your job. And while you're at it, fix whatever this is before I lose both of you to whatever the hell is eating you alive."
I sat there, staring down, every voice in my head telling me to stay put, stay professional, stay in the lane I'd been assigned.
But it wasn't my voice. It had never been my voice. My voice was the one that documented impossible things because they mattered. My voice was the one that reported negligence when it would have been safer to keep silent. My voice belonged to the man that put his hands on a dragon and felt the cold bend around it like recognition.
"Okay," I said.
Nancy nodded once. Sharp. Satisfied. "Good. I'll email Dunn in the morning. By the time he reads it, you'll already be in the air."
"He's going to be furious."
"He can take it up withme." She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made me profoundly grateful she was on my side. "I've been dealing with furious men in this sport for ten years. Dunn doesn't even crack the top ten."
I stood. My legs felt unsteady, but they held. "Nancy."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." The words were inadequate for what I meant—for the job she'd given me, for the trust she'd extended, for the fact that she was standing in her office at ten o'clock at night telling me to get on a plane and fight for something I'd almost convinced myself I'd already lost.
Her expression softened. "Go home. Pack. Sleep if you can." She paused. "And Cinder? When you see him? Don't let him give you the goaltender face. You know the one."
I did. The smooth, impenetrable mask that betrayed nothing, absorbed everything, and cost him more than anyone except me would ever understand.
"I won't," I promised. I couldn’t.
Chapter twenty-three
Empty Net - When the goalie is pulled for an extra attacker, leaving the goal unguarded.
Taz
Both Max and Cole had tried to get me talking, but in the end, they’d both left me alone. Coach was stoic, but we all knew that if we lost tonight, we could probably kiss any chance of catching the top three in the division goodbye. Those teams were streaking ahead.If we won, we still weren’t guaranteed anything, but at least we weren’t completely out of it. I hadn’t attempted to call Cinder again. I’d even ignored Nancy’s call this morning then turned my phone off.
To make it worse, the Nashville Outlaws were one of the top three, and currently on a six-game winning streak. Their topline was practically unstoppable, and the one time we’d played them in Denver at the start of the season we’d lost 5-1. I’d done everything I could to get my head straight, but even my dragon was sulking. I just felt like this huge black cloud was hanging over me, and if Levin had been available, I wouldn’t have played even if Coach had wanted me to.
The locker room was quieter than it should have been before a game this important.
Guys sat in their stalls, going through their routines with the mechanical focus of players who knew the math and didn't like what it said. Tape jobs. Stick checks. The particular ritual of lacing skates that every hockey player treated like prayer, whether they admitted it or not. Ember had his headphones in, eyes closed, bouncing one knee. Ash sat perfectly still, staring at the wall with the concentrated blankness of a man who'd already played the game three times in his head. Cole was beside Max, the two of them murmuring in low tones I couldn't catch. Keegan was trying to coax Declan into not throwing up. Both our rookies looked like they were wishing they could be anywhere else.