“You have to tell Dad it was you,” I said the second I’d finished jotting down my stats. It was game number forty-six, and we were up against a solid-as-hell-looking Vancouver. Ivy had asked to sit next to me in the box, and I was throwing sentences at her every chance I got a break.

“Should you even be talking?” Ivy asked, slightly jilted.

“No, I really shouldn’t.” Tracking stats was by no means easy, but I was focused and only spoke when the game wasn’t in play.

“Then why waste your time?”

“You asked to be here with me, Ivy,” I said. “And you’ve been dodging me at the apartment. I needed to talk to you, and you’re here, so I’m making the best of it.”

She huffed. “I can’t tell, Dad. He’s already ruined everything for me.”

My gut twisted. “Did Crosby…”

“No,” she said when I didn’t continue. “But he’s been colder. With good reason, but I mean more to him than his position. I know it.”

I couldn’t comment because a sniper on the opposing team retrieved the puck and soared toward Eric. A crack, one hell of a shot, and a fast block by Eric had the crowd roaring. I jotted down yet another block for Eric, and then the players headed toward the bench for a timeout.

“You need to be careful,” I said, finally looking my sister in the eyes. “I don’t want you to get your heart broken. You know these hockey players,” I said, swallowing the knot in my throat. “The game comes first. Always.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes. “Crosby is bigger than that. He knows it’s not my fault.”

I shook my head. “I have no clue what you see in him.” The only behavior I’d seen from Crosby was obnoxious, self-centered, and all about the score. Any kind of score. Plus, the other guys gave him mad shit in the locker room, and not in the normal we’re bros way, but in the you’re a dick way. That told me enough.

“You don’t know him,” she snapped. “And you think all hockey players are the same. They’re not.”

That much was true.

God, how could I sit here and lecture Ivy on dating a player when I was doing the same thing?

“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my brow. “I just want to protect you.”

“Then stop asking me to tell Dad,” she said, her voice softer.

“My career, Ivy. This is my career.”

“And he fired Crosby. Not you. You’re safe.” She sighed. “If he found out it was me?” She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’d tear into me. Again. I’m already his biggest disappointment,” she said. “Please, don’t add to it.”

My mouth popped open, tears stinging my eyes. “You’re not a disappointment—”

“Yes, I am. I’m not a math genius. I’m a want-to-be reporter for a gossip magazine. And so far, all I’ve done is deliver coffee, not news.”

“You’ll work your way up,” I said. “You’re a phenomenal writer and have a tenacity like none-other. You will be the most feared reporter in Seattle one of these days.”

A small smile played on her lips. “You believe that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime,” I said, returning focus to the game as it started up again.

After a few minutes of play, I got a chance to speak. “You still need to tell Dad.”

“Ugh,” Ivy groaned. “Please, Pepper. Can you just do me a solid and let this die? We’re being more careful now. It won’t happen again.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, my eyes darting from player to player, giving more focus to the ones I needed to track. My brain switched from our conversation to my job, tracking and jotting and keeping tabs.

Ivy remained silent by my side, a weight in the back of my mind.

Eric blocked another shot.

Bentley scored in overtime.

And we ended up winning 2-1.

As the crowds filed out of the stands, and the players skated off the ice toward the locker rooms, I wrapped an arm around Ivy.

“I love you, sister,” I said. “More than anything in this world.”

“Ditto,” she said, leaning into me.

“I can’t take any more heat,” I said, knowing she didn’t have a clue about the heat Eric and I flirted with. Guilt stuck to my insides. I should tell her. I wanted to tell her. But…it wasn’t just my job at risk.

Fuck, we needed to figure things out. And fast.

Crosby had already gotten fired.

What if next time the picture really was me, making moon-eyes at Eric, wrapped in his perfect embrace?

Flashes played on rapid speed in my head—Dad firing Eric the same way he had Crosby, Edward and Marie losing the farm that had been in their family for decades. Eric, angry and regretful, finally realizing I was never worth the hassle brought down on him.

“Pepper?” Ivy nudged me, and I blinked out of the nightmare.

“What’s up?” I asked, noting that the stadium was almost cleared, the gentle hum of the Zamboni filling the space.

“He’s called your name like five times,” she said, motioning over her shoulder.

I turned, expecting to see Eric, but it was Mason who was waving from the landing a few rows up.

“Pepper!” He called, smiling as he waved me over to him. I gave him a one-second-gesture and turned back to Ivy.

“We okay?” I asked.

“Always,” she said and hugged me again.

“And you’ll think about what I said?”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “You’ll see,” she said. “He’s not like the others.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from challenging that. I was emotionally wrung out, from the picture, the firing, the secrets with Eric, all that was at stake, and then simply doing my dream job. It was all wound up inside me in a tangled mess I wasn’t sure how to unravel.

“Mason’s a player, too, you know,” Ivy said as I headed toward the stairs. “Even if it isn’t NHL status.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Mason is history.”

“History repeats itself.”

“Not in my life,” I said, shaking my head. “Trust me.” I flashed her a smile and took the steps up, feeling heavier than I had in so damn long.

“Sorry if I broke your rhythm,” Mason said when I’d reached him. “I figured since the game was over you’d be good to talk.”

“I just didn’t hear you,” I said. “Plus, you could’ve come down to me.” I pointed out as we turned into the hallway that led to the locker room.

I needed to go to my office, meet with the rest of the statisticians, and enter the numbers into the computer.

“Right,” he said. “Anyway, you headed to the locker room?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “My office is next to it though, why?”

“Just curious.”

I pinched my brow. “You waited an entire game just to walk me to my office? I’m not buying it.”

He huffed. “Fuck, Pepper. You never let one go, do you.”

I gaped at him. “I don’t have time for games, Mason. What do you want?”

“Ouch,” he said, feigning pain. “What’s got you in a bad mood. Didn’t you see, we won.”

I narrowed my gaze on the way he said we, as if he were already a member of the Sharks’ team.

I came to a halt in front of my office and crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, thanks for walking me,” I said, turning with my hand on the knob.

“Pepper, wait,” Mason said, stopping me by grabbing my elbow.

I shook off his touch. Waiting.

“Look, Crosby is gone,” he said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “I know Coach will pull from the farm team. Will you put in a good word for me?”

And there it was. The sole reason Mason had paid me any attention since I’d moved back. It wasn’t because we’d once dated. It wasn’t because he wanted to be friends. He wanted my help.

“Or at least help me set up a sit-down with your dad?”

I snorted. “Dad doesn’t need to hear words to pick a player.”

Mason tilted his head.

“He needs to see. Goals. Steals. Assists. Everything on the ice. It doesn’t matter if you had dinner with him every Friday night for a year. And it sure as hell won’t matter if I say anything. You have to show him on the ice. Nothing else will do.”

Mason considered that for a moment before planting me with a cheesy grin. “Yeah,” he said, nudging me. “But all the rest of it couldn’t hurt, right? Please?”

I shook my head. “You know I can’t. I’m employed by the Sharks now. Conflict of interest and all that.”

“Can’t,” he said, his smile falling. “More like won’t. I just need a chance—”

“Hey, Pepper,” Eric’s voice cut off Mason’s plea. “Can I talk to you about my block stats for a second?”

Every inch of my skin tingled when I looked at him.

Freshly showered, hair tied in a knot at the base of his head, his ripped body covered in Under-Amour-post-game-wear.

“We were in the middle of something, Gentry,” Mason snapped.

“No,” I countered, glancing at Mason. “I told you, I can’t. I’m sorry.” I sighed and motioned to Eric to come on in.

We left Mason standing there as Eric shut the door of my office behind him.

I’d barely had enough time to get used to the small space—just a desk, computer, and sensible chair—but Eric’s presence filled it like there wasn’t an inch left. Somehow, seeing his tall, muscled frame standing before my desk made it ten times smaller.

I set my iPad down and gestured to him. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the guys right about now?”

He furrowed his brow, his eyes noting the distance between us despite the closed door. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat. “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

My heart flipped, my stomach melted, and then my nightmare from earlier coated everything in ice-cold fear.

“You did amazing tonight,” I said. “You should go live it up. Reward yourself.”

He smirked. “You’re the only reward I’d ever want.”

A cross between a sigh and a whimper escaped my lips.

“I’ve got so much work to do,” I said, and I hated myself a little for it. It was the truth, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to wrap myself around him when I was finished. But, with everything that happened in the past few days…I needed thinking space.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked stepping closer.

“No,” I said. “Of course not. I really have work.”

Eric reached for me, his hand trailing the length of my arm. “Then why don’t you head over after you’re done?”

I nodded, pulling away from his touch and walking behind the safety of my desk. I swiped my iPad and fired up my computer. “Depends on the time I get out of here.”

He tilted his head, the intensity in his eyes cracking every inch of resolve I had. I could see it there—the pain and the slight hint of understanding. “All right,” he said, shrugging those gloriously muscled shoulders of his.

Damn it, what am I doing?

I didn’t have a clue. That was why I needed a minute to think. I always knew my next step, next move, next everything. Everything I’d done since that first kiss with Eric had turned my world so upside down.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” I said as he headed toward the door. Everything inside me begged to stop him, to lock the door and have him bend me over the desk.

“Sounds good,” he said, his tone low, gravely. He opened the door, one foot outside.

“Eric!” I blurted.

“Yeah?” He turned back, his eyes hopeful.

The nightmare of him losing everything played in my mind again and my shoulders sank.

“Great game tonight,” I said.

He pursed his lips, blinking a few times like he’d heard me wrong.

“Thanks,” he said, chuckling slightly as he shut the door behind him.

I sank into my chair, head in my hands.

The work I’d dreamed of for years sat in front of me, an easy completion to one hell of a day. But my personal life plagued the center of my chest, an equation I couldn’t solve, and I had no clue how to deal with it.