31. Thane
THIRTY-ONE
THANE
Kieran had been quiet for the last ten minutes.
Every so often, he'd ask a question about the arena, the schedule, or where he'd be sitting during the game. Then he'd nod at the answer and fall silent again. I recognized the pattern. He was nervous. The realization made me smile.
When he caught me looking, one eyebrow lifted. "What?"
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed immediately. "You're smiling at me."
"Maybe."
"That's annoying."
I laughed and pulled into the players' parking area.
The arena rose above us, familiar enough that I normally stopped noticing it. Today it felt different because Kieran was here. He was stepping into a part of my life that had existed long before we met. I parked and reached for the door handle.
Beside me, Kieran stilled.
"You ready?"
He looked through the windshield toward the building. Then he looked back at me and nodded. "Yeah."
The answer sounded more confident than he felt. I knew because I'd heard the same tone from rookies before their first NHL game.
I climbed out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. By the time Kieran stepped onto the pavement, I had already reached for his hand.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You know I can open my own door, right?"
"I know."
I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Give me this. I like doing it."
The faint flush that appeared across his face made the gesture worthwhile.
Together we headed toward the players' entrance. My equipment bag hung over one shoulder while my free hand rested briefly against the small of Kieran's back. It felt natural to keep him close as we walked.
Inside, the familiar sounds of game day surrounded us almost immediately. Staff moved through the corridors carrying equipment. Security personnel nodded as we passed. Somewhere farther down the hallway, I could hear music drifting from the locker room.
I glanced at Kieran as we walked. His attention was everywhere. The championship banners. The framed photographs. The displays celebrating franchise milestones. The history of the organization.
For years, this place had been part of my daily life. Seeing it through his eyes made it feel new again.
When we reached the locker room entrance, I felt him hesitate.
I turned toward him. "You ready?"
His gaze moved past me toward the room beyond. Then he looked back at me and nodded. "Yeah."
The answer wasn't fearless. That made me love him even more. Because he was doing it anyway.
I led him inside.
Conversations continued for another second or two before heads started turning in our direction. A few of the guys waved. A few offered greetings. One or two immediately looked from me to Kieran and back again before understanding settled across their faces.
The first person to abandon whatever he was doing and head our way was Tannen.
Of course it was.
My best friend crossed the room with the confidence of somebody who owned it, which, as captain, he arguably did.
A grin spread across his face the moment he reached us. "So this is Kieran."
I rolled my eyes. "Hello to you too."
Tannen ignored me completely. His attention stayed on Kieran as he extended a hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Kieran shook it. "You too."
Tannen studied him for a second before nodding decisively. "Okay. Good."
Kieran blinked. "Good?"
"Yeah."
Tannen pointed at me. "I've spent two weeks listening to this idiot talk about you."
"Tannen."
"What? I'm being welcoming."
A laugh escaped Kieran.
The sound immediately drew a satisfied look from Tannen. Great. Now there were two of them.
"I knew I liked you," Tannen announced.
Kieran laughed again and shook his head.
The nervousness I'd noticed when we walked into the room hadn't disappeared completely, but it wasn't sitting quite so close to the surface anymore.
Good.
A couple of the other guys wandered over then, curious enough to finally introduce themselves. Briggs arrived a minute later, towering over everybody as usual, and immediately launched into a story about something that had happened on the road trip.
Not everybody joined us. A few guys offered nods from across the room before going back to whatever they were doing. One or two barely looked up at all.
That was fine. Nobody owed me enthusiasm. Nobody owed Kieran instant friendship. They just had to treat him with respect.
So far, they were. So fuck them.
For a few minutes, the room felt more relaxed than I'd expected.
Guys moved between stalls, equipment bags sat open on the floor, and conversations overlapped from every corner of the room.
But underneath it all, the rhythm of game day was already taking shape.
A trainer crossed the room carrying rolls of tape.
One of the assistant coaches appeared in the doorway and exchanged a few words with a player.
A couple of guys started getting dressed for warmups.
The closer we got to puck drop, the more the room began shifting from social to business.
Within minutes, Kieran was answering questions, laughing occasionally, and looking far less like somebody bracing for impact.
I stayed where I was and watched it happen. He didn't need rescuing, and I sure as hell liked seeing him here. Liked seeing him settle. Liked seeing him realize that the people who mattered weren't treating him like he didn't belong.
The moment was brief, but that was probably for the best. Pregame routines mattered.
In another twenty minutes, half the room would be taping sticks, reviewing assignments, or getting yelled at by coaches.
Right now, though, there was still enough time for introductions.
Enough time for Kieran to see this part of my life before hockey took over the rest of the evening.
A hand smacked Briggs on the shoulder hard enough to make him grunt.
"Move, baby." It was Briggs’s wife, Jasmine.
Briggs immediately stepped aside. "Yes, dear."
Jazz had the kind of confidence that came from years around professional athletes. "Coach is looking for half of you idiots," she announced. Then she looked Kieran up and down before turning to me. "This him?"
I laughed. "Jazz, this is Kieran."
Her expression softened instantly. "It's nice to meet you."
Kieran smiled. "You too."
Jazz pointed toward the hallway. “I'm stealing you before hockey takes over everybody's personality."
Kieran blinked. "You are?"
"Unless you'd rather sit down here and listen to hockey players argue about tape jobs and defensive zone coverage."
Briggs looked offended. "We discuss other things."
"No, you don't."
Kieran laughed. The sound earned him an approving nod.
"See? He's smart. Come on."
Kieran looked at me. The question was obvious. You sure?
I nodded. Go, baby, I mouthed.
Jazz immediately hooked her arm through his. "Congratulations. You belong to the hockey spouses' support group."
"Oh God."
"That's usually the reaction." Still talking, she guided him toward the door.
Kieran glanced back once before disappearing into the hallway.
The nervousness was still there. I could see it. But so was something else.
Trust.
And that meant more than I could explain.
Across the room, most of the guys had already gone back to getting ready for the game. A couple was still watching the doorway. One looked away, the second our eyes met. Another's expression was impossible to read.
Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I wasn't.
Whatever.
Nobody had to like my relationship. Nobody had to understand it.
Respect was enough.
The first time I spotted him after warmups, he was sitting beside Jazz in one of the family sections overlooking the ice.
From a distance, I couldn't hear what she was saying. I could see Kieran laughing, though. Seeing him fit in so easily made me absurdly happy. The sight stayed with me as I skated toward the bench.
The game itself wasn't pretty.
After two straight losses, nobody expected pretty. We expected work.
The first period ended tied. The second period felt like a fight for every inch of ice. By the middle of the third, the building was louder than it had been in weeks.
Tannen wasn't suddenly carrying the team. But he looked more like himself than he had in a long time. He was winning battles along the boards. Making smart plays with the puck. Doing all the little things that didn't always show up on a score sheet.
When he stripped the puck from an opposing forward and fed Briggs in the slot, the entire play seemed to unfold in slow motion.
Briggs buried it. The crowd nearly blew the roof off the arena. I crashed into both of them a second later as the crowd erupted around us. Tannen grinned like he'd forgotten how much fun hockey could be.
By the time the final horn sounded, we'd scraped out a 4–3 win.
Hard-earned.
Exactly what we needed.
As we lined up to salute the crowd, my eyes drifted toward the family section again. Kieran was already on his feet. And somehow seeing him there felt every bit as good as seeing the final score.
As we headed off the ice, the energy in the building still felt different. Not because we'd won. Although that helped. After two losses, everybody needed this one.
The locker room buzzed with the kind of relief that only comes after a hard-fought win. Guys were laughing again. Music was playing. Equipment hit the floor. Somebody was already arguing that his goal had been the turning point of the game.
It hadn't been. It was definitely Briggs's.
By the time I finished changing and made my way into the media room, the mood felt lighter than it had in days.
The first questions were exactly what I expected.
The road trip.
The losing streak.
The adjustments we'd made between games.
The power play.
The penalty kill.
The questions came one after another, and I answered them the same way I always did.
Then somebody near the front raised a hand.
"Thane, you've had a lot of attention on your personal life over the last couple of weeks. After the losing streak, there were plenty of people suggesting it had become a distraction. Any thoughts?"