He stares at me. Doesn't say anything.
"I love you." The words come out fierce, protective. "I love you, and I'm not going to stand by and watch someone hurt you. I don't care if it's hockey. I don't care if it's normal. I don't care about any of it except keeping you safe."
He pulls me into his arms, and I can feel him shaking slightly.
"That was the most terrifying and impressive thing I've ever seen," he murmurs into my hair.
"Good."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
"I love you so much it scares me."
"Good," I say again.
Inside the arena, I know the team is probably losing its minds. Coach is probably furious—though that line about the cameras suggests something else, something I'm going to have to work out later. Reaper is definitely plotting revenge.
But none of that matters yet. The fallout will come. It always does. I'll handle it when it gets here.
Because Tyler's safe.
And I just made it very clear that anyone who wants to hurt him has to go through me first.
30
TYLER
We drive home in complete silence. My car is still at the arena. I decided to drive Nora’s car because Harper’s already buckled in the back, and I refuse to let Nora drive in the state she’s in.
I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white, trying to process what the hell just happened.
My girlfriend—my secret girlfriend whom I'm supposedly keeping things quiet with for Harper's sake—walked into my practice, confronted my team captain, and slapped him in front of everyone.
I should be furious.
I should be terrified about the fallout.
Iamterrified about the fallout. It's the only thing my brain can focus on. PR. Lawyers. League discipline. Jessica seeing it on a hockey gossip site and calling her family lawyer. The trial we haven't had yet, the trial we might have to have, and the fact that the woman I love just made it ten times harder to argue Harper has a stable home environment.
Then I look at her, and underneath all of that, I keep replaying the look on Reaper's face when she called him a coward. The shocked silence that followed when the slap echoed throughthe arena. The way she walked out with her head high, like she owned the place.
We're three blocks from home when I finally break.
"I still can't believe you slapped my captain," I say, and my voice comes out somewhere between disbelief and awe. "In front of the entire team."
"He hurt you." Her voice is calm, unapologetic. "He deserved it. Someone had to stand up to him."
"Red, the consequences?—"
"I told you. I know."
"You think you know."
"Tyler." She turns to look at me. "I'm a twenty-six-year-old woman who walked into a building knowing exactly what would happen. I knew the team would file something. I knew Coach might back Reaper. I knew you might lose your spot on the line. I knew Jessica's lawyer could use it. I went in anyway. So when you tell me I don't know—I do. I just didn't care more about those things than I cared about you not getting hit again."
I don't have a good answer to that.