Chapter 20
DANNY
Saturday morning at the team hotel, I'm in the lobby waiting for the bus to morning skate when Riley Collins drops into the chair next to mine.
He's got coffee in both hands. He pushes one toward me without making eye contact.
"Black, two sugars," he says. "That's right, yeah?"
"Yeah." I take it. "Thanks, kid."
He nods, sips his own coffee, doesn't say anything else for a minute. I've known Riley for three weeks and this is the longest I've ever sat next to him.
"Can I ask you something?" he finally says. Quiet enough that no one else hears.
"Sure."
"What you did at Puck Fest. For Barnes." He's still looking at his coffee, not at me. "Would you have done that for anybody on the team? Or just him?"
The question lands somewhere in my chest. I take a slow sip before I answer.
"Anybody on the team. Doesn't matter who."
"Even a guy who hadn't told anyone yet."
I look at him. He's still staring at his coffee.
"Especially that guy," I say.
Riley nods once, fast, then he's up and moving toward the elevators before I can say anything else. He doesn't look back.
I sit there with my coffee getting cold, watching him go, and something in my gut tightens. Three weeks of him barely speaking to anyone, and now this.
Tate slides into the chair Riley just vacated.
"What was that about?" Tate asks.
"I don't know yet."
"Yeah you do."
I look at him. He looks back. Two guys who already learned what hate sounds like at a charity event a few months ago.
"If he comes to you," I say, "you talk to him. Yeah?"
"Already planning on it."
The bus pulls up out front. We stand. Riley's already on it, baseball cap pulled low, headphones in.
I don't say anything else. Some things you don't talk about. You just watch out for the people who need it.
The flight back from Detroit on Sunday feels different.
Maybe it’s because we won both games. Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted from sneaking around a hotel full of teammates. Maybe it’s because I spent three days pretending Noah means nothing to me when he’s all I think about.
Or maybe it’s because Saturday’s youth clinic is my last one. After that, my probation’s officially over.
I sit with Carter and Jack on the plane, half-listening to them argue about whether Detroit has better pizza than Chicago. When we land in Oakland, my phone buzzes with a text from Noah.
Final clinic Saturday. 10 AM. Same location.
Last one.
Yes. After that, you’re done.
We’re done, you mean. No more supervision.
We’ll talk about it later.
I put my phone away and stare out the window.
Probation ending should feel like freedom. No more mandated community service, no more official oversight, no more league scrutiny.
But it also means no more built-in reason for Noah and me to spend time together. No more cover story for why we’re always around each other.
Which makes hiding this even harder.
“You good?” Carter asks.
I look over and grab my bag from the overhead compartment. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve been quiet.” He grins. “It’s weird. Usually you’re cracking jokes, giving people shit. Now you’re just...” He gestures vaguely. “Somewhere else.”
“The final youth clinic’s on Saturday. I’m just thinking about that.”
“Oh, right. The end of probation.” Carter hoists his bag over his shoulder. “Must feel good to almost be done with all the PR bullshit.”
If he only knew.
“Yeah. Can’t wait.”
On Saturday morning, I show up at the practice facility ten minutes early. Last clinic. Last official obligation. The end of a probation period that somehow turned into the most complicated thing in my life.
Noah’s already there, running around with his clipboard and tablet. He’s in jeans again instead of a suit, and I have to force myself not to stare.
“Morning,” he says when I walk over.
“Morning.” I drop my bag. “Last one, huh?”
“Last one.” Something flickers in his expression. “You ready?”
“To teach kids defensive positioning one more time? Hell yeah, I’m ready.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
We look at each other for a second too long, and I see everything I’m feeling reflected in his eyes. Relief that probation’s ending. Fear about what comes next. The weight of hiding something that’s getting harder and harder to hide.
“We should probably start,” he says, breaking eye contact first. “The kids are starting to head inside.”
The clinic goes well. The kids are great as usual - enthusiastic, asking questions, working hard on the drills. I teach them the same stuff I’ve been teaching for weeks, but this time it feels different.
Because I know I’m doing it for the last time. And I’m really going to miss it.
During water break, one of the kids skates over to me. He’s maybe ten, wearing a Raptors jersey with my number on the back.
“Are you gonna keep doing these?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“The clinics. Are you gonna keep teaching us?”
I glance at Noah, who’s watching from the boards.
“I don’t know, buddy. This was part of my community service. Now that it’s done...”
“But you’re good at it. And we like learning from you.”
I smile at him. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
He skates back to the other kids, and I’m left standing there realizing that somewhere along the way, this stopped being punishment and started being something I actually care about.
When the clinic ends and the last kid leaves, Noah walks over.
“That went well,” he says.
“Yeah. They’re really good kids.”
“They asked if you’d come back.”
“Yeah, they asked me, too.” I start packing up my gear. “But I didn’t know what to tell them.”
“You could keep doing it. Even without the mandate. Plenty of players do community outreach voluntarily.”
“Would you still supervise?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t need to supervise anymore. Your probation’s over.”
“Right.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “So what happens now?”
“Now you’re officially rehabilitated. League’s happy, team’s happy, sponsors are happy. You did the work.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
He glances around, making sure we’re alone. “I know. I guess we just keep being careful. Keep hiding. And we figure out how to make this work without the cover of official supervision.”
“That’s going to be harder.”
“I know.”
“People are going to wonder why we still spend time together,” I say.
“Let them wonder. As long as they don’t know for sure.”
I let out a sigh. “So how long do we keep doing this? Hiding, sneaking around, acting like we’re nothing to each other?”
“I don’t know, Danny. I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.”
“What if we didn’t hide?”
He looks at me, his eyebrows flying up. “What?”
“What if we just…you know, told people. Came clean. Dealt with whatever happens.”
His expression hardens. “You know what would happen. I’d lose my job. You’d be questioned about whether I gave you special treatment during probation. My father’s position would be compromised. The organization would be under scrutiny.”
“So we keep hiding forever?” I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated huff.
“Not forever. Just until we figure out a better option.”
“And what if there isn’t a better option?”
He doesn’t answer, but we both know the truth. There might not be a better option. There might only be this…stolen moments, secret visits, the constant fear of being caught.
“I don’t regret this,” Noah says quietly. “Whatever happens, I don’t regret you.”
“Me neither.”
“But I also don’t know how we make this work long-term. Not with Alex watching, not with people starting to notice, not with everything at stake.”
“Then we take it one day at a time. Keep being careful. Keep finding ways to be together.” I move closer to him. “And we don’t give up.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not simple. It’s fucking complicated. But you’re worth it.”
He looks at me, and I see the conflict in his eyes. The fear and the hope and the weight of our shared secret.
“I’m falling for you, Danny,” he says. “And that terrifies me.”
“Why?”
“Because the more I care about you, the more I have to lose if this blows up.”
“It won’t blow up,” I say.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. I don’t. But I know I’m not walking away. So we have to figure it out.” I grin. “Let’s go to your place and come up with a plan.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon in Noah’s bed, talking about everything except the impossible situation we’re in.
He tells me about growing up as the coach’s kid, always feeling like he had to prove himself.
I tell him about protecting my younger brother from bullies, how that instinct never went away.
We talk about stupid shit - favorite movies, worst hockey injuries, places we want to travel. Normal couple stuff that feels almost possible when we’re alone like this.
It’s almost six when I finally need to leave.
“I don’t want you to go,” Noah says.
“I don’t want to go either.”
“But you have to.”
“Yeah.” I sit up, start looking for my clothes. “Same time next week?”
“Probably not next week. We have to space things out more now that probation’s over. Make it less obvious.”
I stop, holding my shirt in hand. “So we see each other less?”
“We have to be more careful. Alex is still watching. People are still noticing.”
“Right. More careful.” I pull on my shirt. “This is going to get harder, isn’t it?”
“Probably.” He sits up, pulls the sheet around his waist. “But I meant what I said earlier. I’m falling for you, Danny. And that’s not going away just because we have to be more careful.”
I cross back to the bed, kiss him. “I’m falling for you too. Have been for a while.”
“Since when?”
“Probably since that first meeting when you looked at me like I was the biggest pain in your ass.”
He almost smiles. “You were the biggest pain in my ass.”
“And now?”
“Now you’re still a pain in my ass.” He snickers. “Just a different kind.”
I kiss him again, harder this time. “I should go before I change my mind and stay.”
“You should.”
He strokes the side of my face. “Danny.” His voice is soft. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being patient and for not giving up on me when I kept pushing you away.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”
“Good.”
I leave a few minutes later, walking to my truck in the dark, and for the first time in weeks, I’m not worried about being seen.
Not because the threat’s gone. Alex is still out there. People are still watching. Everything’s still as dangerous as it was yesterday.
But probation’s over. We made it through. And Noah just told me he’s falling for me.
That has to count for something.
Whatever happens next, at least we’re in it together.
I should’ve known that was the moment everything would start to unravel.