Chapter 28
BENNETT
I reach for my phone and text her one-handed, already hard thinking about last night.
Bennett: Morning, Sunshine
I take a couple long, slow strokes and wait for her reply.
Nothing.
Must still be sleeping.
I climb out of bed and hit the bathroom. Breakfast is until 8:30, then we’re all on the bus to the rink for practice. Zero time to lounge around.
I meet the boys in the same dining room as last night. Callum’s silent as usual and Weston’s focused, leaving me pretty much alone with my scrambled eggs. I flip my phone and check for a reply every thirty seconds, but I’m still unread.
Worry creeps in, slithering through my gut and mixing with the eggs. Is Tori bailing? Is this too much for her?
I can’t think like that. Not right now.
Shoving the negative thoughts away, I focus on hockey.
After breakfast, we board the bus.
No Tori.
Guess she’s trusting me on my own at practice.
Which is fine.
I’m fine.
I scroll through Instagram on the ride over, distracting myself. We pull up to the arena and file off the bus, hitting the guest locker room to change into our practice gear.
“You good?” Callum leans against the red metal locker and stares me down, his dark blue eyes narrow.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I pull athletic tape taut on my wrist, avoiding his gaze.
“You seem off. Lack of sleep getting to you?”
“No. I got plenty of shut eye.” I slam the locker shut and sink down onto the bench to lace up my skates.
He sits next to me and Weston slides in on my other side.
Suddenly, this feels a lot like an intervention.
Weston moves closer to me. “Even with the late-night company?”
“What are you talking about?” I bend over and lace up my skates, playing dumb. It’s all I’ve got.
“We saw the shoe, Benny.” Weston drops his voice low, the hum of the locker room vibrating around us. “We know the Ice Queen was there.”
Weston using the nickname annoys me, a flash of irritation shooting straight through me.
“Don’t call her that.”
He holds up his palms. “Sorry. I get it. I didn’t like when you called Harbor PR Barbie.”
Heat flames across my chest, remembering all the shit I gave Weston about his girl.
“I know how annoying it is when people constantly judge.” Weston’s know-it-all tone pisses me off even more.
Worse, these two assholes know. There’s no denying it.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “Fine. She was there.”
Saying the words out loud to my brothers somehow makes all of this more real.
Me. Tori. The impossible situation we’re in.
“Bro.” Callum shakes his head, his brow furrowed so deep his fucking wrinkles have wrinkles. “I told you not to go there. She’s Prince’s daughter.” He hisses the word and I huff out a deep breath.
Like I don’t fucking know this.
“She’s…” I stare up at the ceiling, searching for the words. “Amazing.”
“Oh my god. He’s in fucking deep, guys.” Weston shakes his head, puffing out his cheeks.
That’s when I know I’m well and truly fucked.
Weston, big brother and Captain America, looks worried.
“I’m not.” I throw up my hands in protest. “And it’s under control.”
Except I haven’t heard from her since last night and I’m spiraling.
“New York’s next. And half that crowd still thinks this team belongs to them.
Donors. Cameras. Prince’s old-money crowd.
The press circling like damn sharks in bloody water.
You can’t be stupid in Manhattan.” Weston’s words hit hard because I know he’s right.
We’ll be all over the news, reporters vying for headlines.
Callum stares straight ahead, hands folded in his lap.
“Be careful, Benny. This is the shit that gets guys cut.”
Callum doesn’t need to remind me of the tangled web I’m trapped in. I’m well fucking aware.
“Thanks, Callum. But I’ve got it.”
“Dude — you can pull any girl. Why her?” Weston squints at me, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck.
I shrug. “I love a good challenge.”
The second it’s out of my mouth, I regret it. I make it sound like Tori’s a conquest. And she’s so much fucking more than that.
But I can’t admit that. Not here, not now.
Coach Keller flashes the lights, our two-minute warning, and the locker room kicks into hyperdrive. Everyone grabs their gear and shuffles out to the corridor.
“Benny — I hope you know what you’re doing.” Callum’s lips press together as he rises from the bench.
I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I’m not about to admit that.
“Under control, Cal. Don’t worry.”
Those lines feel like one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told in my life. None of this is under control — especially not my feelings for Tori — and that scares the absolute shit out of me.
I have one of the worst practices I’ve had since my rookie season.
I’m slow off the line.
Miss three-quarters of the passes.
Get beat by motherfucking Morrison.
“Steele, get your head out of your ass or I’m gonna bench you again!” Keller barks at me from the gate and my chest tightens.
Out of control.
This is what I get for fucking around with the owner’s daughter.
Dr. Sparks warned me.
My brothers warned me.
Tori warned me.
And yet here I am.
Fucked.
The puck sails past me again and Keller blows the whistle, waving me over. My chest squeezes as I skate over, the snick of the ice loud in my ears. I’m about to get benched, I know it.
“You up all night, Steele?” Coach levels a serious gaze at me, tiny worry lines crinkling around his gray eyes. “You look wrecked.”
I shrug. “Had a little trouble sleeping, yeah.”
“Room not comfortable?”
“No, it was fine. I’m just keyed up for the game is all.” I straighten my shoulders, shifting from foot to foot.
I cannot get benched again.
Coach rakes a hand through his short hair. “Hit the showers. Then go meditate, watch film, do something other than what you’re doing out there right now. Get your mind right for tonight.”
With a quick wave, he dismisses me from practice.
Fucking great.
I may not even start tonight.
I haven’t missed a start in the last five years.
Pissed off, I shove into the locker room and throw my skates down. Check my phone for the hundredth time today.
Sunshine: We need to set better boundaries
Son of a bitch.
Translation: Last night was a mistake.
Not the text I needed.
I chuck the phone back into my locker and head to the showers, my stomach knotted up tighter than a rubber band ball.
“Bennett. I’m surprised to see you.” Dr. Sparks settles into a chair directly across from me, the legal notepad and pen on the long conference table in front of her.
I kick my feet out, stretching my legs under the table and leaning back.
“Yeah, well. Coach Keller kicked me out of practice this morning. Told me to get my mind right. Figured you were the best person to call.”
Dr. Sparks tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and picks up her pen.
“Tell me about practice.”
I crack my knuckles, one by one, each crack echoing off the walls of the empty room.
“I missed the puck. Was slow off the line. Got beat.”
“Okay. What was going through your mind when you missed the puck?”
Tori.
Boundaries.
But I can’t say that. Not to her. Not now.
Instead, I shrug. “I dunno. Don’t miss the puck, I guess.”
Dr. Sparks presses her lips together, studying me over the rims of her glasses.
“You need to be honest with yourself, Bennett.”
My chest tightens as I stare at the non-descript beige swirls in the conference room carpet. A long silence stretches between us, the hotel AC humming softly in the background.
“Name it. Or it controls you.”
Heat flashes through me, sweat beading at my hairline.
Name it.
Lose control with me.
I shouldn’t admit this, shouldn’t say her name out loud. Not to someone employed by the team. Someone with a direct line to the owner, Tori’s fucking father.
“Tori.” The admission is quiet, barely above a whisper.
Dr. Sparks sets her pen down on the legal pad, lacing her slender fingers together.
“T.”
I nod, face flaming. “Yeah.”
“What about Tori has you distracted?”
“Fucking everything,” I mutter, lost in the spirals of the carpet.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she locks her eyes on mine and doesn’t let go.
How she unravels underneath me, clawing at my skin.
My name falling from her lips, soft and reverent. Like a prayer.
The text this morning: We need better boundaries.
“We’re kind of in a…” I puff out a breath, too embarrassed to meet Dr. Sparks knowing gaze. “Situationship.”
Cheap label, even cheaper armor.
“Ah.” She shifts in her chair, twirling the pen in her fingers. “And that’s a distraction? A problem?”
“Yeah. Both.”
Dr. Sparks pauses, pen hovering above the legal pad. She sets the pen down.
“That’s not a distraction, Bennett. That’s attachment.”
My throat tightens, anxiety buzzing through my veins, worse than before a game.
She catches my eyes and holds them. “Attachment’s a risk for you. Why?”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste the tang of blood.
Because I fucking want more.
And that’s dangerous.
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious.” My right knee bounces up and down, double time. “She’s the owner’s daughter. Probably not my best decision ever.”
My chest aches as I acknowledge the core issue.
Bennett fucks up. Again.
“I’m just out here meeting expectations.” I mean it as a joke, but the words come out sharp and bitter.
“People expect you to make poor decisions.” She says it as a statement, not a question, and her words hit me like an arrow straight through my heart.
Because they’re usually right.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice wobbly.
Fuck, this is embarrassing.
My palms slick and the carpet swirls blur.
“Tori expects that too?”
I snap my head up so fast the room spins, my eyes flicking to Dr. Sparks.
“I mean, initially.” I swipe my palms on my joggers. “But I thought we moved past it.”
“Thought?” Dr. Sparks presses, her elbows resting on the table. Hands folded calmly beneath her chin, the dark blue lanyard around her neck swinging slightly.
I huff out another deep breath, rake my hand through my damp hair. “This is confidential, right? Like — you can’t tell anyone.”
She nods. “Correct. Unless you tell me you’re harming yourself or someone else, our sessions stay in this room. Prince doesn’t get summaries,” she adds, like she can read my mind. “He pays for the support, not the details.”
“Right. So…” I steady my knee with my hand. “We slept together. More than once. Attraction’s mutual. But it’s complicated. With her dad, the team.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know where we go from here. I thought we were on the same page, but now she’s talking about boundaries. And I don’t do boundaries. I’m all in or I’m nothing.”
“Perhaps that’s the appeal.”
“What do you mean?” I cock my head at her.
“Think about your pattern, Bennett. It’s not that you don’t ‘do boundaries.’” She air quotes my words. “It’s that you don’t respect them. You challenge them, break through them.”
She has a point.
“Why do you think that is?” Dr. Sparks pauses, waiting for my response.
Now I’m sweating under my arms too, all my bad life choices roaring back. The women, the parties, the fights. Staying out late, missing curfew.
Tori.
Constantly pushing it and testing the line.
Reckless.
I lift my eyes to Dr. Sparks, clear the lump in my throat.
“It’s who I am.”
“Okay. But why?”
Dammit. I don’t fucking know.
I scrub my face with my clammy palm. “No idea. Personality trait?”
“I think it’s deeper than that, Bennett. You challenge authority at every turn. Not quite overtly. But it’s there, an undercurrent running through you.”
“Great. What’s this have to do with hockey?”
“Harness the energy, Bennett. Stop fighting against the tide. Ride it instead.”
I consider that for a second.
“That feels like getting pushed over.”
“Not if you’re on top of the wave.”
Something in my chest shifts, tiny and reluctant, but there.
On top of the wave.
I can move or get dragged.
“Your homework today.” Dr. Sparks taps her pen on the pad, bringing my focus back to her. “Before the game, you’re going to make one choice that proves you’re in control. Not Coach. Not Prince. Not Tori. You.”
My jaw ticks. I hate homework, hate being told what to do.
“Like what?”
“Like listening to a meditation. Like watching film instead of spiraling. Like walking away from trouble instead of straight into it.” Her gaze sharpens. “Control doesn’t mean nothing goes sideways. It means you choose to move out of the way when things do.”
My throat tightens, flashing back on all the times I ran straight into the center of the storm.
“And,” her voice is softer now. “You’re going to stop making this all about whether Tori stays.”
The words hit like a slap.
“If she’s putting up boundaries now, it’s because she’s scared. Don’t punish her for trying to protect both of you. If you do, you’ll only prove her fear.”
I clench my fists, wanting to fight the intangible things working against us. Things I can’t see or touch or punch my way out of.
“Go out there tonight and play hard. Play clean. Ride the wave, Bennett.”
I stand, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. The homework seems easy enough.
Meditate, stay out of trouble.
Go win the fucking hockey game.
Dr. Sparks’s voice stops me at the door. “Bennett, one more thing.”
I glance back over my shoulder.
“If you want more, earn it. Don’t take it.”
My throat tightens and I shove my hand in my pocket. Instinctively knowing that’s gonna be a problem.
I don’t know how to do that.
If I want something, I skate straight at it.
I step into the hallway, chilly air hitting my burning cheeks.
I’m already fucking this up.
Because I’m not picturing the game, the slick ice, the puck.
All I see is Tori — and a wall I don’t know how not to climb.