After Sasha returns to Ottawa, we head out on a road trip that doesn’t start well. Simec is injured in Montreal, knocking him out of the next few games. Onetti joins our line, but he doesn’t read Moore and I as well as Simec does, and we’re scoreless until we get to Columbus. A win there bolsters us, and we take the next game against Washington—and I score two goals that night.

But the next game, in Minnesota, is another loss, and we find ourselves in the middle of January still clawing our way up the division standings as the decided underdogs.

There’s a growing narrative in the media that something is wrong with the basic equation of our team. So far, we’ve done a good job in our dressing room of ignoring that, because it’s not true. When we win, it feels right. We win when we click. And when we don’t click, we don’t win, which means we can fix this.

But we’re running out of time.

Andrushko is named to the All Star team, which is a nice morale bump. And he deserves it—our defence has been on point as we’ve moved into winter. We’re still losing games as often as we win them, but never by much. A goal, maybe two.

We arrive in Banff for a much-needed few days break between our games in Minnesota and Edmonton and the first thing I do is call Sasha.

The Christmas and New Year’s week spoiled me. Going a month without seeing her is torture.

“I’m still at the university,” she warns. Code for don’t be inappropriate.

“I have to head out for dinner soon, anyway.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, though,” she says softly. “Tell me something fun.”

“We’re going skiing tomorrow.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah. Getting out on the slopes is a nice alternative to the usual workout, even though our insurance riders have a lot of constraints on where and how we can ski. And then we’ll probably end up spending most of tomorrow afternoon in the chalet, chilling.”

She laughs. “That sounds like a real hardship.”

“I’d say you should fly out, but it’s a team-only thing.”

“I’m swamped anyway. My dissertation committee requires serious hand-holding, it’s ridiculous. I thought they would be helping me, but it’s the other way around. They can’t pick a date to meet without twenty-seven emails back and forth that all end with, ‘Can Sasha help figure this out?’ No, Sasha bloody well can’t, she’s bloody well writing the last chapter of her analysis. Except of course I can, and I do, and each day that passes cements my desire to get the hell out of academia.”

She takes a deep breath, and I tell her take another. “Just for good measure.”

I get a delicate growl in my ear for that.

“When did you last eat?” I ask her.

“I had oatmeal for breakfast.”

I look at my watch. “It’s almost seven for you! Go find some food. Call Ellie, see if she wants delivery.”

“That’s a good idea. Okay, I’m going. Don’t hurt yourself tomorrow.”

“I won’t. Gotta stay pretty for when I see you in two weeks.”

“And don’t have too much fun, either. Remember, I’m miserable here.”

I chuckle. “Easiest promise to make, ever. I’m not going to have any fun at all. This is a work thing, no matter how they dress it up. A training day like any other.”

Maybe not quite like any other training day, I think as I watch our physical trainers set up a team-building exercise on top of a mountain. The slopes are open for other skiers, too, and we’ve attracted some attention.

I’m always happy to pose for pictures with fans, so while we watch the defensive lines run through the exercise, I shake hands and say cheese until my cheeks hurt.

Then it’s our turn. As a line, Moore, Onetti, and I need to cross-country ski a mini obstacle course—on a custom set of skis built for three people. Two skis, six toe clips.

And we aren’t allowed to speak. We need to watch each other’s body language, and at two exchange points, switch out the leader.

It’s harder than it looks, and it looks fucking insane.

By the time we make it through—in the second-fastest time, bested only by Andrushko’s line—we’re drenched in sweat. But we’re also working better, which is the point.

Full props to the trainers.

Coach huddles us up as a group to set up the next exercise, then we’ve got some waiting around time again.

Simec, true to form, has found a group of hot young things to bury himself in. He waves me over. I grab Onetti, because he deserves a reward for being a star team player, and go over to be polite.

Three hours later, when we get back to the chalet, my phone is blowing up because a picture of me surrounded by Victoria’s Secret models has hit social media, and fans are loving it.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fucking fuckers.

I abandon my beer and excuse myself. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

Sasha picks up on the first ring. “Hello.”

“Hey.” I wince.

“You had fun today.”

“Not really.”

“I told you not to do that,” she says silkily. “I was kidding, of course. But did you have to have that much fun?”

“I swear it was zero fun.”

“You went skiing with Victoria’s Secret models.”

I went skiing and there happened to be models on the slopes at the same time. I start to burn under the collar, because while I fucking miss her like crazy, that’s only an important distinction if Sasha were my girlfriend. And two weeks ago, she made a hella big deal about the fact that she’s not. “Jealous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not fucking you again until you get tested.”

“But you will fuck me again. Which is good, because I’m not interested in sinking into any pussy that doesn’t have a direct wire to your smart mouth. For real. It didn’t even cross my mind. I only want you. I only have eyes for you.”

“We haven’t talked about being exclusive.”

“We haven’t talked about a lot of things, but they’ve happened anyway. We’re exclusive. There’s nobody else. I didn’t even know they were models, and the second I got back to my phone and saw the picture, I called you.”

She sighs. “I didn’t like seeing it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to care about them.”

I get that, too. “Nobody gets to make up the rules for us, but us. Outside drama doesn't touch us. Nothing touches us. This is sacred. You and me. Ignore everything else.”

“I only have eyes for you, too,” she whispers. “I only see you.”

I like the sound of that. “Never worry that the feeling isn’t mutual. And if you want me to get tested, I will.”

She makes a humming sound. “Maybe.”

“If I did, we could ditch the condoms.” I want to be inside her. Bare. Skin on skin.

“That’s an unnecessary risk.”

“You’re on the pill.”

“I like the double protection.”

“I’ll pull out. Nothing wrong with spilling my come on your skin. That’s hot, too.”

She laughs despite herself. “You’re so filthy.”

“Is that a maybe?”

“That’s a…I don’t know. Yes. Maybe. Get tested, and we’ll see.”

Hot damn. “Okay. Consider it done. I’ll email you the results as soon as I get them.” But they’ll be free of infection. I’ve never gone unwrapped, and I’m stoked that Sasha might be my first time for that.

“Tate…” Her voice goes small and soft, and I want to be on the other side of the country with her.

“What is it?”

“Do you have to go do something with the team?”

“Nah. Dinner’s in a bit, but I’m all yours until then.”

She’s silent for a long stretch. Then she sighs. “I should tell you about my ex.”

“If you want. But I don’t need to know.”

“Maybe I need to say it out loud. Get rid of it being a big deal in my head.”

“Sure.”

She tells me about some asshole named Brian. A pro basketball player who I vaguely know to be more flash than substance. “We weren’t together that long, about three months, but in that time, my name kept popping up in gossip columns and photographers would look for me at events. It turned out, he was using me because the scandals kept his profile up. It was stupid and short-sighted, and by the end of our relationship, he was openly dating other people. The last scandal was him dumping me by way of a paparazzi video. I let him disrupt my first attempt at my MBA, and I had to start over the next year at another school. I know you aren’t anything like him, but that’s why I’m so cautious about having a public life. It doesn’t take much for someone else to twist how you are seen.”

“I will never do that to you.”

“I know.” But her voice is still small. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard her like this.

“Not long until you visit again, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in Vancouver in time for the All Star Break.”

I want to stay on the phone all night. Screw dinner. Screw team building. I’m working on a team of two here.

“I should let you go.”

“No.”

She takes a deep breath. “Yes. And I have work to do. Always.”

“Call me later.”

“You call me.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Now I can hear a smile in her voice. And she hangs up first, which is for the best. I probably would have kept going like that forever.