“Baptiste!” Coach barked. “Where’s your head tonight?”
“Sorry, Coach.”
We ran the play again. This time, I was overthinking every movement. I took the puck, hesitated a second too long, and Cole had to adjust his positioning to compensate.
The play fell apart.
“Again!”
I pushed too hard, took a stupid risk trying to prove myself, and ended up taking what would have been a hooking penalty during a game when the puck got stripped from me.
Coach’s whistle shrieked across the ice.
“Baptiste! Bench! Now!”
I skated to the bench, embarrassed and not looking at anyone, especially not Eva.
“You want to play in the NHL?” Coach said, his voice pitched just for me. “Then get your head out of your ass and remember why you’re on the ice.”
Massi clapped my shoulder as he slid into my spot. The team kept running drills without me.
I sat on the bench, jaw clenched, watching the scouts take notes. One checked his watch. Another closed his folder. All three left before practice ended.
The team was kind about it after, and somehow, that made it worse.
I sat in my car outside the hockey house afterward, hollow.
Work harder, be better, do more.
Still not enough.
Every day for a week,I’d walked the line between hope and desperation, two steps forward, one step back.
Slowly, infinitely slowly, Eva was thawing.
The team was thawing too. Eva had started speaking to us again after we nursed her through her fever. Yesterday, she’d looked up when I walked into the training room, and her eyes had sparked before she could bank it.
“Hold up, kitten,” I called after practice, jogging to catch her.
Eva didn’t slow, just kept walking toward the campus café.
I reached for her tote bag like I did every day, my palms sweating, even though she’d been letting me carry it for her all week.
That was how pathetic I was, desperate to carry her fuckingbags.
This morning, Eva stopped and looked me up and down with an expression I couldn’t read. For a second, I thought she was going to tell me to fuck off, that she was done withthe groceries and the flowers and the gestures and the groveling.
“Thanks,” she said instead, her lips tilting into a small smile.
I felt a thousand feet tall and completely unworthy all at once.
Normally, I dropped her bag with Rory at the café entrance and left before I could overstay my welcome. Today, I followed her inside, my stomach a knot of nerves as she joined the line.
The silence between us felt almost companionable. I was terrified to breathe wrong and shatter it.
“Extra avocado,” I told the barista when Eva ordered a breakfast burrito.
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. I fumbled for Cole’s credit card, nearly dropping it, adding my order and a sandwich for her lunch.