Chapter Seventeen
Camden
I barely slept. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. And that look she gave me before she shut the door. That quiet, polite smile that said thank you for caring—and please don’t love me right now.
I get it. She’s drowning in responsibility, grief, and exhaustion. But I can’t shut it down. My brain doesn’t have an off switch. It replays every word I said that might have pushed her too far, every silence I should’ve filled.
Then the group texts start.
At six o’clock sharp. I left the ringer on last night in case Dot changed her mind about driving Coach and wanted to text me, but I am not prepared for the barrage of one-liners that pour in from a certain sociopath.
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: chirp chirp
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: Time to rise and shine, birdies
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: Gotta get those buns of steel
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: If I don’t start hearing from you soon, I’ll start making phone calls
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: Then house calls
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: I know where every single one of you slackers lives
KnightInShiningArmor: jfc dude go back to sleep
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: Sleep is for the weak
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: Do you want to win Lord Stanley or do you want to get so flabby you can’t see your own dick
KnightInShiningArmor: flab, please
PwnedByOwen: I’m muting this channel
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: No! This is supposed to be our hot girl summer!
ThisIsYourCaptainSpeaking: No Dad Bods, remember?
BigStickEnergy: The only one close to a dad bod is you
CamIAm: getting up now
I’m gonna kill him. But since there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to fall back asleep after this, it looks as though I’ll be forced to kill him at the rink.
It takes me a full hour to get up, get ready, feed Soot, feed myself, and haul my exhausted ass out the door.
I guzzle approximately a gallon of coffee on the drive in.
I’m prepared for Viktor’s disapproving lecture, but since I’m only the fourth car in the ramp when I arrive, I’m guessing he’ll save his real vitriol for the latecomers.
Or, I guess, the later-comers. Just to be petty, I sit in the car until I finish my drink, and Knight pulls up beside me.
“Gonna kill him,” he grumbles.
I cheers him with my empty coffee cup. “I’ll help you hide the body.”
Viktor’s fussing around in the locker room, alongside a yawning Tristan and a surprisingly alert Lenyx.
The rink smells like my childhood—cold air, disinfectant, rubber mats, and someone’s unfortunate choice of protein shake. Viktor’s voice carries down the hall like a foghorn announcing doom.
The man’s a walking motivational poster gone rogue. He thrives on chaos before sunrise, which, in my opinion, should be illegal.
“How are you so chipper this early?” Knight grumbles.
“I didn’t go to bed,” Lenyx says. After a beat, he grins at us and holds up one finger. “Correction: I didn’t go to sleep. I’ve been working on my abs all night.” He raises his voice. “Viktor, did you know that sex is a great ab workout?”
“I did indeed,” Viktor says. To me, he adds, “Here,” and tosses a jersey my way.
I hold up the jersey and shake it out. “Why are the colors weird?” Even as the words leave my lips, I realize that the usual Venom logo is missing.
Instead of the deeper Venom green, these jerseys are a weird pastel tone, with lighter lavender trim.
On the front are the words No Dad Bod Summer. In fucking Comic Sans.
“Sir.” I lower the shirt and glare at him. “What is this?”
“It’s my new campaign!” Viktor spreads his arms to gesture at all of us. “Dante’s got his whole Bring Back the Magic theme. To that end—”
“What size is your jersey?” Knight asks, cutting him off.
Viktor takes a step back. “What?”
“You made yourself a jersey, too, right? Let me see it.”
Viktor’s eyes shift from side to side, like he’s looking for a way out. As if we don’t spend half our mornings in here. “Why?”
“Where is it?” Knight reaches for the pile.
“No!” Viktor tries to grab him.
Under other circumstances, I’d let this play out, but Viktor got on my bad side today with his nonsense.
I step up to block him. Tristan, too, moves to bar the way.
Despite Viktor’s squawking and his attempts to elbow past us, Tristan and I manage to hold him back until Knight locates the jersey.
I snort when I see that, instead of his name, Viktor’s simply says Captain.
“Give it back,” Viktor whines.
Knight examines the label in the back. “I knew it. You went up a size.”
For all their chirping, I love these guys. They’re a found family in every sense—loud, messy, opinionated. The kind of people who’d show up at your house with a shovel if you said you had a problem. And somehow, they manage to make me feel like I’m the weird one for catching feelings.
A couple more of the guys wander in together. “What’s going on?” Owen asks through a yawn.
Tristan snorts. “Viktor got the girl, got soft, and now we’re all paying for it. He’s not worried about our game at all.”
Owen’s eyes narrow into slits. “He’s projecting.”
“That’s not true!” Viktor manages to dart between us, now that Tristan and I have stopped making an effort to block him. He grabs the shirt from Knight and presses it to his chest. “I just want us to be healthy!”
Bowen sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “That’s not it. You’re scared of your wife.”
Knight snickers into his fist. “As well he should be.”
“Dante’s scared of my wife,” Viktor shoots back.
“Did she make fun of your gut?” Lenyx pats Viktor’s stomach.
Viktor’s brows furrow. His bottom lip protrudes. I’m suddenly reminded of that kid’s picture book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I bite back a laugh.
“No,” he mutters. “She called it cute. She said she didn’t mind if I had a little bit of a tummy.” He slaps one hand to his stomach. “A tummy. That’s not how people talk about abs!”
“Aww, poor baby.” Knight ruffles Viktor’s hair. “Good thing you got a dynamic workout last night.” He turns to me. “Speaking of which, did you earn major bonus points with Dot? You seemed kind of bummed when we left.”
“Oh, that.” I puff out my cheeks. “Yeah, that could have gone better.”
Viktor’s eye twitches. “For real? We skipped yet another summer practice sesh, and that’s all you have to say?”
“I didn’t mean you guys. You did great.” Everyone’s staring at me now, and since I implied that they were the problem, I scramble for the right words. “The room looks great. Coach’s going to be so comfortable. I’m just… I’m scared of losing Dot.”
“Why would you lose Dot?” Bowen asks.
I rub my forehead. “I was trying to tell her I loved her, and she pushed me away.”
Saying it out loud makes my chest hurt all over again.
I wasn’t expecting fireworks or some big cinematic moment. I just wanted her to know. But the look on her face—like I’d handed her something too heavy to carry—hit harder than any slapshot I’ve ever taken.
I keep thinking about that night in the motel, and the way she said my name with her tiny pants feathering my throat. How could that be the same person who looked at me yesterday like love was something dangerous?
Maybe it is, for her. Maybe it always has been.
Viktor whistles. “Damn. That’s a bad sign. Even Knova can say I love you.”
Tristan elbows him in the ribs. “Not helpful, Viktor.”
Knight places his hands on my shoulders. “Ignore them. Listen, she has a lot going on. Her mom just died. Her dad was badly injured. The dogs. And a relationship on top of that? Maybe it’s all moving too fast for her.”
“Maybe,” I agree, though I can’t help but remember the unopened boxes of books in her living room. Am I off the mark? Am I trying too hard?
Knight squeezes my shoulders. “I can give you more feedback after the party.”
“Party?” I repeat.
“What party?” Owen asks. “Did I get left off the group chat again?”
“We should throw a party. To celebrate Coach Shaw coming home, right? I assumed you’d be planning that already, to be honest.”
“No way. She’d hate that, and Coach’s still recovering.” I rub my jaw. “Although I could plan a night for just the two of us. Something to help her unwind and relax. The nurse stays overnight two times a week to give Dot a break. I could cook for her at my condo.”
I nod, already building the picture in my head: candles, her favorite tea, Soot purring nearby. Something quiet. Safe. Maybe if I can remind her what comfort feels like, she’ll start to believe in it again.
Viktor claps his hands, snapping me out of it. “Great. Good for Camden. Now that Mr. Romance has his plan, let’s get on the ice!”
As the guys groan and grab their sticks, I pull my helmet on and take a long breath. This morning started with Viktor’s nonsense, but it’s ending with purpose.
I’m not giving up on Dot. Not now. Not ever.