Chapter 5 #2
"Make him call you mommy! " That was Zoe. There was no doubt about it.
And the entire locker room fell into hysterics at that particular quip.
"What the hell, Zoe," I groaned, and rubbed a hand down my face as my teammates lost their collective minds. Dani actually collapsed into a bench, wheezing.
"Tell me I'm wrong," she pressed, a shit-eating grin spread all over her face. "He's already being super clingy with the texts, and we all know that's like, two steps away from him getting on his damn knees."
"Oh my God."
I was absolutely not dignifying that with a response. I refused to. I mean, what could I even say to some unhinged shit like that?
"Ugh, okay, okay, enough of that. Let's get out of here before we all start frothing at the mouth." I said, lips curved. It was impossible not to smile when they were being so damn obnoxious. It was infectious.
Zoe smirked back at me. "Don't you think we've gone way past frothing at the mouth?"
"Hopefully not." I said as I shouldered my way out of the locker room, throwing a salute back to the girls as I did so. "See you guys later."
"Later, Cap!" They giggled back to me, their voices still exuberant even as the locker room doors swung shut behind me.
Well. That went well . I thought and figured I'd pretty much weathered that particular storm and now had the time to go face the next one.
But Gina's voice from behind stopped me. "Hails." She said, her tone low and serious. That tone was enough to make me pause and face her.
"Yeah? What's up?" I answered and she caught up to me, gesturing for me to resume walking. I did, and she kept up pace beside me.
"Don't overdo it." The words were like weights dropping from her tongue.
And my first instinct was to scoff, maybe roll my eyes and tell her not to be ridiculous, because of course I wasn’t going to overdo it. But then I caught the look in her eyes—sharp, steady, laced with something that almost resembled concern—and I hesitated.
Gina didn’t try to intervene in my decisions very often. At least, not like this.
I sighed, adjusting the strap of my bag. "G, I’m fine."
She gave me a long, unimpressed look. "Right. Because running yourself into the ground always works out so well for you."
Something about the way she said that made my stomach twist. Because it was beginning to sound like she was asking about way more than just the whole situation with the teams sharing a rink. It sounded like she was asking me about everything else.
The thing was, I didn’t have open conversations.
I wasn’t the heart-to-heart type. Not because I didn’t care—I did, deeply—but because there was a line I refused to cross when it came to my teammates and the dynamic that fueled us.
My job was to lead, to make sure my team was ready for anything, to keep us pushing forward, no matter what.
And, sure, that didn't mean that I couldn't connect intimately with my teammates, because I did.
But it also didn't mean that I had to burden them with my own issues, either.
Gina knew that.
But that also meant she knew me .
She sighed, raking a hand through her hair before shaking her head. "You do this every time," she muttered.
I frowned. "Do what?"
"This," she gestured at me, exasperated. "You act like you have to do everything alone. We’re a team, Hailey."
I let out a short laugh. "That’s exactly why I’m doing this, G. For the team."
She made a noise in the back of her throat, half-exasperation, half-resignation. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it."
"I’m fine, G."
She didn’t look convinced.
I wasn’t surprised. Gina had known me for years—long enough to read between the lines, to see past the things I didn’t say. But even knowing that, even knowing her, I still didn’t give her more. Because that wasn’t how this worked.
I was close with my team. I had to be. We spent more time with each other than anyone else, we trained together, played together, won and lost together. I trusted them on the ice with my whole damn life.
But that was team life. That was hockey.
And I didn’t let that bleed into my personal life.
Not because I didn’t care about them—I did, more than anything—but because I’d learned a long time ago that my life outside the rink wasn’t something I needed to drag them into.
It wasn’t exactly a secret, it just wasn’t their problem.
They didn’t need to know about the shit I dealt with outside of this.
It wouldn’t help them, and it sure as hell wouldn’t help me.
If it wasn’t useful, and it wasn’t necessary, then what was the point?
So, yeah. My team knew me, but they didn’t know me. Not the parts that had nothing to do with hockey, not the things that life shoved at me before I’d ever set foot into the rink.
And that was fine. It was better this way.
She studied me for another long second, and I could tell she wanted to say more. But then she just exhaled through her nose and shook her head.
"Alright, fine." She threw up her hands, letting it go. "I'll stop nagging you about it. Just... remember to rely on us when it gets too tough." Her eyes softened as she said that, and my eyes started to burn.
But I only gave her a small smile, shoving the emotions back down where they couldn't do anything.
"Sure, I will." I said, nodding even though I knew I wasn't going to do it either way. Better to lie at times like these.
We walked the rest of the way out of the building in silence.
"You're going to be up late, right?" Gina said, walking backwards so she could see my face as she spoke. "You know it's going to be chaos on the group chat when the list drops."
"I can already hear the screams of horror." I said and Gina chuckled.
"Right?" She agreed. "We'll probably be dealing with a full-blown crisis by 10 p.m. tonight. At least we know it’s going to be entertaining around here for the next month."
After another shared laugh, we finally parted ways at the gates.