“Good, Kevin! Come off now.”

Kevin’s legs wanted to give way as he skated around the last obstacle, then over to step off the ice. He wobbled in a way he hadn’t done since he stepped off the ice at age three in his first pair of skates.

“Oh, Jesus,” he laughed under his breath, jerking his chin in a nod to Coach Walker. “Am I good to change?”

“No. You can do better than that. I want you going once more. Watch how Matty does it.”

Kevin could barely remember when the day had begun. Aside from a short lunch break, they’d been put through their paces. He was working harder on the ice than he’d ever worked in his life, and every step of the way, there had been a coach or player development manager or captain or something critiquing him.

Matty was gliding effortlessly across the ice, spinning around each pylon and moving the puck back and forth somehow behind the pylon and around it without tripping over either the stick or the puck.

For a second, Kevin kind of hated him, but only because he was jealous. He’d always been told his stick handling abilities were second to none—literally, not as a euphemism, though he wished he’d heard that more too. Now he was watching Matty effortlessly flick the puck between the front and back of his blade, all without tripping over any of the obstacles.

Matty even spun at the end in a quick, sharp stop exactly on the mark, the puck on the tip of his stick and ready to slap into the goal.

Fisher banged the end of his stick against the flooring and a couple other guys joined in, thumping their approval and whooping.

Even Coach Walker smiled. “Perfect,” he approved.

Shit.

Matty wasn’t just good, he was great. Kevin was more nervous than ever. Somehow, Matty was hanging around him? Had he gotten too distracted by Matty and hanging out with him at his cabin and the museum and shit when he should have been training more?

But no guy could stay in the gym 24/7. He had to have a life, too, right?

“Again,” Coach Walker instructed Kevin as Matty slid past him, jumping up and off the ice and punching his arm on the way by.

Kevin offered a weak smile and stepped back down again, taking a deep breath as he skated back into position.

This was it. They were gonna find out that he wasn’t as good as someone had thought he was. And Hans was right there, willing and waiting to take the job. Hell, all it took was one slip—one little distraction—and he’d be back home looking for a new career.

No. Focus on this. One skate in front of the other.

Kevin drew a breath, then flicked the puck to the inside of his stick and started moving before he could second-guess himself. He moved on pure instinct, trying to go fast enough that his brain couldn’t kick in. Muscle memory from doing this exercise three times already, and the instinct of what to do with the puck when he had it. They’d trained on every element of this at some point this week… this just required him to put together the pieces.

Around, his stick looping back and forth, eye on the puck, and then it clicked into place.

It was the state of flow that every athlete wanted, and it sank in as quickly as a sun ray burst from behind a thick, heavy cloud. His brain was light and floating, watching what he did but not really offering input. It was all his body, and the trust he put in himself from skate to stick.

Pass, receive. Pass, receive.

And then he was done, the last pylon already past him. Shit, he had to stop—turn around…

Kevin stopped messily, almost losing his balance as he screeched to a sudden halt. His cheeks flushed as he stopped, his chest heaving for breath.

Matty whooped. “Way better! Sorry, Coach.”

Coach Walker shook his head but smiled as he gestured to Kevin. “Come off. Yeah, that was better. Good going, kid.”

Kevin did his best to study the other guys who went, but he was still dizzy with excitement from the moment where drills had connected with other drills. By the time they were sent off for physio, skates off and back in sneakers, most of the guys were worn down but enthusiastic.

All around, Kevin could see guys learning and putting together the pieces just like him. That was the point of the camp, not just assessing their skill levels right now—seeing how fast and well they could learn.

“Hey,” Matty greeted as they collapsed in the bleachers to wait for the physio talk and training session on post-game cool-downs. He was sprawling a couple seats away, all his limbs splayed out every which way.

Kevin glanced around as he answered, “Hey.” Nobody else was nearby right now, which made Kevin’s heart sink with relief. “How’s it going?”

“Better now you’re smiling at me.” Matty winked at him, and Kevin felt his heart pick up with a little flutter.

No… God, I have to focus. Kevin still turned red and mumbled something like, “Cool.”

Matty laughed. “You all right?”

Kevin shrugged and nodded all at once. “I just… it’s distracting being ’round you.” He kept his voice down in case anyone else came walking their way.

Matty moved over to the seat next to him, folding himself in more neatly. “Yeah. I know. Me, too.”

“And we still haven’t talked about… all this.” Kevin couldn’t believe he was bringing this up now. He had to be exhausted for his filters to be coming down.

“Yeah.” Matty folded his hands in his lap, licking his lips. He looked like he was about to talk to a TV reporter or something.

He’s nervous? Kevin smiled a bit. “But we should probably hold off until after the heat’s off. Maybe we can hang out, like, before our speech to the kids next week?”

“This weekend?” Matty asked.

Kevin nodded. “We’ll figure something out after this week’s done.” Assuming neither of us get sent home early, of course.

“All right.” Matty hesitated, glancing around carefully and then looking back at Kevin.

Kevin grabbed Matty’s chin in one hand and leaned in for one fast, forceful kiss right against Matty’s lips. After a hot second or two of lips sliding, catching each other’s lips with their teeth, they pulled apart again.

Holy shit.

That chemistry was back. It was nearly impossible to resist grabbing Matty and hauling him close again, but Kevin rocked himself up to his feet and let out a quick breath. “Right. Physio. I think I hear them starting.”

When he looked back over his shoulder, Matty was slowly getting to his feet, staring after him with wide, dazed eyes.

Oh, I’d leave you even more stunned than that if I could.

“Get your asses over here,” the physiotherapist, Rick, told them as they rounded the corner. “And put your phones away, guys. No distractions.”

No distractions: that was exactly why they had to stay out of each other’s pants until this fucking camp was done. No matter how much Kevin wanted to grab Matty and haul him out back to lose every ounce of strained self-control in each other’s arms.