“Someone here to see you, one-nine.” Dunn sat down on the locker room bench next to Henny and mussed his hair, an all-too-fatherly gesture that told Henny everything he needed to know about who was waiting for him on the other side of the doors.

Bex.

“We got time?” Henny asked.

Dunn nodded. “Ten minutes. Get it done.”

Henny pulled off his skates and rose from the bench, half-dressed for the last game of the regular season, heart in his fucking throat. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Drove by the pub and her house without going inside. Picked up the phone a hundred times, only to chicken out before he hit the call button. Looked for her in the stands at all of his games, but her absence carved a fresh gash in his heart every time.

Now she was here, right outside those doors, and he didn’t know what the fuck to say.

Maybe he never would.

“Clock’s ticking,” Dunn said.

“No shit.” Henny wrenched open the doors and headed out into the hallway. There she was, pacing at the end of it, her back to him.

Damn, he’d missed her.

She was dressed in a jet-black suit and white blouse, her skirt and heels showing off her toned legs. Her hair was tamed into some kind of complicated twisty thing at the nape of her neck, and all Henny could think about was how it would feel to slide his fingers into that hair, untie the knot, kiss her until they both ran out of air.

She looked good. Real good.

If Henny wasn’t so damned heartbroken, he might’ve been intimidated.

“Hey,” he said. “Dunn said you wanted to see me?” Real smooth, dickhead.

Bex turned to face him, her smile tentative. Forget kissing—she was so fucking beautiful, just looking at her knocked the wind out of him.

“Is this awkward?” She approached him slowly, fidgeting with her purse strap, not quite meeting his eyes. “It’s awkward. I know. I just… I was so excited to tell you, and I wanted to call, but then I remembered you had a game tonight, and then I didn’t know if I should come in, so I called Eva from the parking lot and—”

“I’m—”

“She said if I hurried, I might catch you before the game, but now I see I’m totally interrupting and—”

“Bex.” He reached out to touch her, but then pulled back. He had no right. Not anymore. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, he said, “What’s with the suit?”

Bex lowered her eyes, her smile still so damn shy. “I finally took your advice. Met with your friend at Bluepoint today.”

“You serious? How’d it go?”

“My credit isn’t doing me any favors, but Miguel told me about a new investment program for local women business owners.” She met his eyes, her whole face coming to life as she spoke. “They pair up individual investors with women whose businesses directly benefit the community, either through job creation or business-to-business spending. They don’t always find a match, but given my circumstances and my presentation, he thought it was worth a shot. He was pretty impressed with the expansion and marketing plans.”

“Are you surprised?” Henny flashed a proud grin. Couldn’t help it. “You’ve got this one in the bag.”

“You think so?”

“I wouldn’t say no to you.” Not even now. Whatever you want, just fucking say it. The answer is yes. Friends? Not friends? A kidney? It’s yours.

A lifetime passed between them, neither of them speaking, the only sound coming from the locker room behind him: Kooz teaching the boys the latest Russian insults, Roscoe and Fahey kicking around a hacky sack, Kenton butchering a Men at Work song. All the familiar pre-game stuff Henny had come to know and depend on.

He adjusted his jersey over the pads again, not sure what else to say. What else she wanted from him. When she didn’t fill in the gaps, he said, “I should probably get back.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” She smiled again. Then, softly, “Henny, I just… Thank you. For always having my back. For encouraging me. For pushing me when I was too stubborn to push myself.”

“With Bluepoint?” He waited for her to say no, or better yet, to say nothing at all and simply throw herself into his arms, kiss away the arguments and all the bullshit that had come between them.

But Bex only nodded. “I feel like whatever happens now, at least I took action. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be doodling logos and obsessing over Yelp reviews.”

“No way. You would’ve made a move eventually.” Henny shook his head. “Jesus, Bex. You’re the smartest, most capable, most kickass woman I’ve ever known. I didn’t push you on Bluepoint because I thought you couldn’t handle the bar on your own. I did it because you were having a hard time after California, and I thought I could help. That will always be my first instinct when it comes to you.”

“I’m… I know.”

He waited for her to open up a vein, to tell him how she was truly feeling, to call him out on the things he’d said to her that night in her office. But all she said instead was, “I’ve been watching your games. You’re playing pretty tight lately.”

Henny nodded. “Had a little heart-to-heart with Gallagher and the suits. I fucked up a lot this season, but I’m done with that schoolyard bullshit. Time to get back to business, focus on the playoffs.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah, well. Someone suggested I stop acting like—what was the term? Man-baby, I think?”

Bex laughed. She actually laughed. Henny had never wanted to hit the rewind button so hard in his life.

How the fuck did I screw this up so bad?

How was it possible that weeks ago he had his face between this woman’s gorgeous thighs, making love to her in every possible way, waking up with his hands in her hair, his cock pressing against her backside, his mouth on the soft skin of her neck, and now they were standing here afraid to touch each other, afraid to say any of the things that really mattered?

“You, ah, sticking around for the show?” he asked.

“Fee and I are double-teaming it at the pub tonight—trying out a mock pool tournament on that table of yours. Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I made something for you. Almost forgot.”

She picked up a poster board that’d been leaning against the wall behind her, flipping it so Henny could read it.

It was a big-ass sign covered in glitter stars and stickers shaped like hockey sticks. In the center she’d written a message in Tempest blue.

You GOT this, 19!

God, his fucking heart hurt.

“Maybe one of the wives can wave it around for you,” she said, handing it over.

After another long and punishing silence, she finally leaned in close, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. Henny closed his eyes as her lips lingered, warm and soft, the haze of her sweet scent making him dizzy, his damn heart betraying him with every thud.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were wet with tears. “Play your ass off tonight, jerkface. Okay?”

* * *

Henny took Bex’s advice. He played his ass off, pushing himself harder and faster with each play, taking no fucking prisoners as the front line dominated the ice. There was nothing violent or dirty about it—the whole team was simply on point tonight, like they’d all taken a shot of adrenaline in the collective ass. Their passing game was flawless. Kooz and his defense shut down every single goal attempt. By the start of the third, it was clear that the Nashville Tomcats had already given up.

In the end, they mopped the floor with those boys, shutting them out seven to zero. Henny’d even nailed a hat trick, and when the crowd roared their appreciation, Henny waved at them. Acknowledged it. Thanked them. For a minute there, he started to remember why he loved this game so damn much. Not because of the screaming fans, but because of how he and the boys had come together as a team, playing their tightest game of the season, playing hard, playing clean. They’d had a job to do, and they’d gone out there and gotten it done.

He’d actually had fun.

But when Henny scanned the crowd, his gaze settled on an empty seat. Bex wasn’t in the stands, banging on the glass with her glittery sign. He’d left the sign in the locker room. She wouldn’t be waiting for him in the hallway tonight to give him a congratulatory hug, or pouring him a beer at Laurie’s, or making her cure-all nachos, or waiting for him in his bed, as eager to hear about the game as she was to feel him inside her. She wouldn’t be cheering for him during the playoffs, or watching the boys dig in and fight for the cup.

Sure, maybe they could try to talk it out. Get back to paling around again. But even if they managed to salvage their friendship, it would never be the same. There would always be this awkward space in the middle of everything, the black mark on their otherwise unblemished history that they just didn’t talk about anymore.

Henny skated off the ice, heading into the locker room ahead of the team, staring at that sign until the sparkly letters all blurred together.

In all the ways that counted, he’d fucking lost her.