‘You’rete,’ Brynn says as I walk through Penelope’s front door, shrugging off my Seattle Hawkeyes zip-up jacket—the same one all the office staff gotst season. ‘We were starting to think you weren’ting.’


    ‘Sorry, I got caught up with auction emails,’ I say, though the truth is, I’ve been sitting at my apartment thinking about what I’m going to do about these feelings for JP. ‘But I brought chips.’


    She takes the bag from my hands with a knowing look. ‘Or maybe you couldn’t stop thinking about your Ground Zero <em ss="calibre12">afterparty</em>?’


    I follow her into Penelope’s stunning kitchen, where the other girls are already gathering. The sprawling open-concept space, with its professional-grade appliances and massive ind—perfect for entertaining an NHL team—is filled with the smell of pizza and the sound ofughter. Aria’s meticulously arranging a veggie tter while Kendall and Juliet disagree about pizza toppings—specifically the use of pineapple. I’s perched on one of the leather bar stools, typing rapidly on her phone.


    ‘Look who finally showed up,’ Penelope calls out from where she’s restocking bottled hard ciders in the fridge for tonight. ‘Just in time for pre-game analysis.’


    ‘Please tell me we’re not dissecting Ground Zero again,’ I say, epting one of the hard ciders that Penelope hands me.


    ‘Oh, we’re definitely going there,’ Aria says, abandoning her perfectly arranged vegetables. ‘You left with our goalie and didn’te back.’


    I take a generous sip of cider, needing liquid courage for this conversation. ‘I was sick, remember? I went to lie down.”


    ‘You went to lie down… Is that what we’re calling it now?” Brynn teases. “Is that why I had to bring you your purse in the morning and you were sneaking out, dressed head to toe in JP’s clothing while he was still asleep? You didn’t even wake him up before you left.”


    “Oh, that’s cold… even for me,” Kendall says but then reaches over to high five me.


    The room erupts in squeals and questions that echo off the high ceilings.


    ‘Ladies,’ I hold up my hands, fighting to keep my expression neutral, ‘can we focus on the game? It’s their first away game of the season, and I don’t want to miss any of it.’


    ‘The game doesn’t start for twenty minutes,’ Aria points out, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It’s good to see her smile after everything with Everett. ‘Plenty of time for details.’


    If I’m being honest, Aria’s situation makes me even more nervous about the bet between my dad and JP. I still don’t know Everett that well. Would he fire me if he found out that I knew that my dad challenged Everett’s new goalie by walking away from the Hawkeyes, and I did nothing to stop it?


    I mean, technically I did try to get them to listen to me, but neither of them would. Will he still see this as my fault? Will Penelope? And if Kendall doesn’t clear Olsen in time, the Hawkeyes could be without a goalie after the charity auction if my dad wins.


    ‘There are no details,’ I insist, though the memory of waking up in his bed, his scent surrounding me, threatens to weaken my resolve. ‘He was just being a good teammate, making sure I got home safe.’


    ‘That’s all?’ Kendall presses, twirling a baby carrot between her fingers. ‘Because Aleksi said—’


    ‘Since when are you talking to Aleksi?’ I counter, grateful for the deflection. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I resist the urge to check it immediately.


    Kendall’s cheeks flush pink. ‘We’re not…he justes by my office a lot, that’s all. I don’t date professional athletes anymore, remember?”


    ‘What does Aleksie by so often for then?’ I asks, finally ncing up from her phone, probably texting Kaenan about the uing game.


    ‘Usually something ridiculous,’ Kendall admits, her smile fond despite her eye roll. ‘Last week he came in iming his funny bone wasn’t funny anymore.’


    We allugh, and I silently thank Aleksi’s terrible flirting for the subject change. My phone buzzes again, and this time I can’t help but check it.


    <b ss="calibre13">JP: </b>About to hit the ice for warmups.<b ss="calibre13"></b>


    My heart stutters, but I slip the phone back into my pocket without responding. He’ll be on the ice soon, and he’ll be in the zone. I probably won’t hear from him the rest of the night, but I have a feeling I’ll be checking my phone all night anyway.


    ‘Speaking of details,’ Penelope says, ‘we need to go dress shopping for the auction. I’ve got a reservation at that french boutique outside of town that we usually go to. They’re holding a private showing for us with a brand new collection.’


    ‘I don’t know if I should go,’ Aria says quietly, her earlier smile fading. ‘I’m not really part of the organization anymore.’


    The room falls silent, the weight of Everett’s decision hanging heavy in the air.


    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Penelope says firmly, her GM voice making an appearance. ‘You’re still a part of the Hawkeyes family, even if you’re not on the payroll. Besides, it’s a charity event. Anyone can attend who has an invitation and luckily, I have an extra one.’


    ‘Pen’s right,’ I add, wrapping an arm around Aria’s shoulders. ‘We need you there. Who else is going to obsessively analyze the silent auction table to make sure everything lines up perfectly?’


    That gets augh from everyone, breaking the tension.


    We settle into Penelope’s massive sectional, tes bnced onps as the pre-game show begins. The cameras pan across LA’s arena, finally settling on the ice where both teams are warming up.


    My breath catches when they zoom in on JP. He’s tracking shots withser focus, his movements fluid and controlled. Even through the TV, his presencemands attention. There’s no sign of the knee issues that sidelined himst season as he moves post to post, shutting down shot after shot.


    ‘He looks good out there,’ Brynn murmurs beside me. ‘Really good.’


    I nod, not trusting my voice. My phone buzzes again, but I force myself to focus on the screen where Hunter’s taking shots on JP during warmups.


    The first period is intense but scoreless. JP makes several key saves, including a spectacr glove save that has us all cheering. The girls start a runningmentary on everything from yer performance to who’s likely to end up in the penalty box first.


    ‘Twenty bucks says Hunter gets the first penalty,’ Juliet announces, reaching for another slice of pizza. ‘He’s been <em ss="calibre12">chippy</em>tely.’


    ‘Nah, my money’s on Aleksi,’ Kendall counters, her cheeks pinking slightly when we all look at her. ‘What? He’s been fired up all week. You should see him in the training room.’


    ‘Oh, we bet you see a lot of him in the training room,’ I teases.


    The second period starts rough. LA scores early, a deflection off Wolf’s stick that even JP couldn’t track. The Hawkeyes struggle to generate offense, and despite JP’s continued strong y, they’re down 2-0 by the intermission.


    ‘They’re not clicking,’ Penelope observes, her GM voice fully present now. ‘The new linebinations need work. And our power y is too predictable.’


    ‘JP’s keeping them in it though,’ I notes. ‘Thirty saves already.’


    I stay quiet, watching as the cameras catch him heading down the tunnel. His jaw is set, but his shoulders are steady. He appears determined, focused. Like the yer I used to watch from across the ice, before everything happened in San Diego.


    The third period is all LA. Despite ate push, the Hawkeyes couldn’t solve their goalie. JP makes a hell of a save toward the end, but it’s not enough. Final score: 3-0.


    ‘Well, that sucked,’ Aria announces, reaching for more wine.


    ‘First away game jitters,’ Penelope says, “but it’s just pre-season, and we have a lot of new yers this season that haven’t yed together. The chemistry wille.’


    ‘So, Saturday for dress shopping?’ Juliet asks as we help clean up. ‘Ten o’clock?’


    Everyone agrees, even Aria, though she still seems hesitant.


    ‘I can’t wait to see what everyone picks,’ Kendall says, boxing up leftover pizza. ‘We should all try on things that arepletely out of ourfort zones.’


    Later, as I’m getting ready for bed, a textes through. It’s a picture of a puck with silver writing “Dinner?”


    And then a text that follows.


    <b ss="calibre13">JP: </b>I know what was throwing me off. I didn’t have you to toss a puck to. It threw my whole rhythm off.


    I know he’s teasing but it has me chuckling—a flutter in my belly telling me that JP is starting to get under my skin. Or maybe he’s always been there?


    <b ss="calibre13">Me: </b>Good game, despite the score. Your knee looked strong. Maybe I didn’t wear the hair band long enough.


    His reply is immediate.


    <b ss="calibre13">JP: </b>The hair band still did its job. No one got hurt on the ice. You’ll always be my lucky charm, Cammy.


    I stare at the message, my finger hovering over the reply button. Finally, I type: Have a safe flight home. See you soon.


    It’s not much, but it’s something. A small crack in the wall I’ve built around my heart. Whether that’s wise or not remains to be seen.


    <b ss="calibre13">JP: </b>See you soon


    But as I drift off to sleep, I can’t stop wondering what would happen if I ever said yes to dinner.


    Maybe someday, I will.