"Are you okay?"

Sammie looked up from tightening her laces. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"Because you've been jittery and distracted ever since you got here." Taylor brought the blade of her stick close to her face, tilting her head to the side as she ran her hand along the tape. Then she turned that same studying look on Sammie. "And your play shows it."

Sammie dropped her gaze, thought about making up some excuse, then decided against it. Taylor was only speaking the truth. Sammie had completely blown two plays, giving New York prime scoring chances. The only reason there weren't any points showing up on the scoreboard was because Rachel had rushed forward to cover her screw-ups.

Both times.

Rachel, of all people.

And the woman hadn't bothered to keep her irritation to herself, either, making more than one snide comment each time they got back to the bench. Nobody had bothered to contradict her, or tell her to keep quiet, because they all knew Rachel was right.

Sammie had messed up and deserved to be called out. It just galled her that it was being done by Rachel.

"Do you want Coach to switch up the lines?"

It wasn't a question, more of a quiet threat. Sammie swallowed back her irritation—Taylor was their Captain, she had to be focused on making sure the team worked together. Switching up the lines was something the coaching staff did, but there was no doubt in Sammie's mind that Coach Reynolds would listen to any suggestion Taylor made.

"No, I'm good."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah."

Taylor nodded, rested the stick across her lap, then nudged Sammie in the side with a small smile. "Good. Because that would have totally sucked. Now tell me what's going on."

Sammie almost laughed. Tell her what was going on? They were in the locker room for their first intermission, which was more than halfway over. She didn't have enough time to tell Taylor what was going, not in any detail.

So she shrugged and simply said, "Jon's here. With Clare."

"Yeah. I saw him earlier."

"You did?"

"Duh. It's not like the stands are that big, you know. Or that filled. Of course, I saw him. Besides, you kept turning around to look at the crowd. I figured something was up."

"Oh."

"That's it? Oh? Aren't you going to elaborate?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"Okay, how about the basics. Are you guys sleeping together yet?"

"What? God, no. Absolutely not. You're worse than Shannon."

"But you're thinking about it."

"No!"

Taylor leaned back, her brows arched over whiskey-colored eyes. "Really?"

There was so much meaning in that one simple word, in the way she drew it out. Disbelief. Surprise. Knowledge of the inevitable. Sammie sighed and looked away, afraid Taylor would see too much on her face.

"No, I'm not. I can't. That would be—that would be disastrous. In more ways than I could even imagine."

"You sure about that? Because you guys have been spending a lot of time together these last two weeks, ever since Thanksgiving weekend."

"No, we haven't. He's met me after practice twice and he's here with Clare tonight. That's not 'spending time together'."

"What about the other times? Because you said he's been spending more time with Clare—which means he's with you, too."

"That doesn't mean anything." At least, that's what Sammie tried to tell herself. The problem was, every single time she saw him, every single minute they spent together, chipped away at her resolve to keep her distance.

It should be easy enough. Jon hadn't even tried to kiss her again. Yes, there were times he seemed to stand too close. Times when his arm brushed against hers, or when their hands touched for just a second too long. But there wasn't anything she could point to and say 'stop doing that', not without sounding like an idiot because he wasn't doing anything.

Except driving her crazy.

"Well, maybe you should."

"Should, what?"

"Sleep with him."

"What?" Sammie stared at Taylor, trying to figure out if she was joking or not. No, she wasn't. "Are you crazy? Weren't you the one who said I should tell him to get lost?"

"Yeah, but you haven't."

"He's Clare's father. It's not that easy."

"Or that's just a convenient excuse."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

"Look at it this way, then: if you sleep with him, maybe you'll get him out of your system and you can move on."

"Absolutely not."

"Hey, maybe he'll be a super-dud and that'll help. You'll never know until you try, right?"

"Trust me, it's not in Jon's nature to be a dud in anything. Especially in—God. No. No, we are not having this discussion. I can't believe—"

"If you could see how red your face is right now." Taylor laughed, the sound turning into a small snort as she started to fall back before catching herself. Sammie glared at her through narrowed eyes, wondering how much trouble she'd get in if she knocked Taylor off the bench.

"You're not funny."

"Yes, I am, and you know it."

"You're not. None of this is, because Jon wants to take Clare home tonight so they can spend all day together tomorrow. He wants to take her to the aquarium."

Taylor's laughter faded. She sat back up, sympathy flashing in her eyes. "Is that what's really bothering you?"

"Yeah. I've never—I've never been away from Clare for that long before."

"What about our road games?"

"That's not the same. I mean, we haven't spent the night on the road, you know? I've always been able to go home and tuck her in, even though she was already asleep, and just watch her if I wanted to. Plus, she was home. And I'm there in the morning as soon as she wakes up. But this—this is different."

"So then tell him no."

"I already told him yes." She hadn't meant to, but she had taken one look at the silent pleading in Jon's eyes—the pleading he had tried so hard to hide from her when he brought it up—and heard herself say yes.

"Then tell him you changed your mind."

"I can't. You have no idea how much this means to him." But Sammie did, knew he was somehow trying to convince himself that he wasn't the monster he believed himself to be. No, he hadn't brought up their conversation in his car again, hadn't talked about everything he'd done and or what he believed he'd become. Neither one of them had.

But Sammie knew those thoughts weren't very far from the front of his mind. She could see it in the occasional faraway look he got on his face, in the mingled expression of wonder and doubt that flashed in his eyes whenever he looked at Clare.

"Then I don't know what to tell you, Sammie. Except you need to figure something out and I don't mean while you're out on the ice."

"Yeah. I know."

"Good. Then let's go kick some New York butt." Taylor stood and grabbed Sammie's arm, pulling her to her feet as everyone started lining up to head back to the ice. Coach Reynolds came in, gave them a final last-minute talk to pump them up, then they filed past her.

Sammie hit the ice behind Taylor, following her down to the net with the rest of the line to tap Shannon on the legs before lining up for the puck-drop. Sammie looked to the right, her gaze immediately landing on Jon. He was standing with the rest of the crowd, Clare propped on his hip as he pointed toward her. Sammie couldn't make out what he was saying, not from this distance, but she saw Clare bounce up and down in his arms and clap her tiny little hands together.

"Reigler. I need you here."

Sammie turned back around, her gaze meeting Taylor's. She nodded, forced all thoughts of Jon from her mind, and got into position.

New York won the faceoff, immediately skating the puck into the Blades' defensive zone. Sammie powered through each stride, pushing herself, muscles stretching and burning as she followed and slid into position in front of the net. She leaned forward, swinging her stick from side-to-side, her gaze never leaving the player from New York.

Waiting. Watching.

The woman darted to the left, stopped and moved to the right. It didn't matter, Sammie hadn't been fooled. She moved in, reached out with her stick, and knocked the puck loose before the woman could shoot it.

They followed the puck into the corner, both of them hitting the boards hard enough to shake the glass. Sammie jabbed with her elbow, kicked out with the toe of her skate, dug in with her stick until she got her tape on the puck. She jammed her elbow into the other player's side once more then spun around, moving the puck back to center ice.

She glanced around, passed it to Taylor, followed her down the ice then waited, getting into position, focused on keeping the puck in the zone in case of a rebound—or in case one of the players from New York knocked it loose or gained possession of it. Not that there was much chance of that happening, not right now. Taylor had firm possession as she skated around the net, her gaze scanning the ice as she pulled back with her stick.

New York's goalie slid to the right, her glove hand coming up to block the shot. But Taylor didn't take the shot. Instead, she passed the puck to Dani, who pulled back and sent it flying in, hard and fast.

The red light flashed above the net, immediately followed by the sound of the horn blaring. Cheers and applause echoed around them, still not loud enough to drown out the horn, but louder than it had been at every other game so far this season.

Sammie ran forward, meeting Taylor and Dani and Rachel and Sydney for a group hug before heading off the ice. She dropped to the bench and grabbed a water bottle, shooting a stream into her mouth before handing the bottle to Taylor.

Taylor took a quick sip, swished it around her mouth, then leaned to the side and spit it out before taking another sip, swallowing it this time. She tossed the bottle behind her then nudged Sammie in the side.

"See what happens when you aren't distracted and get your head in the game?"

"Hm." Sammie didn't say anything more than that little sound. She couldn't—if she did, Taylor would figure out the truth.

Her head hadn't been in the game, not exactly. Not the way Taylor had meant.

Her mind had been on Jon. On impressing him.

And on her earlier conversation with Taylor, thinking about what she had said, wondering if maybe her friend had a point. Wondering if maybe she should just sleep with him and get it out of her system.

Not that she would. There was no way she could allow that to happen, not in real life. But as far as lighting a fire under her during the game—yeah, it had definitely worked.

And it kept working for the rest of the game, too, right up until the final horn signaled another win for the Blades.