Some groan, but I honestly need to clear my head, and I take the laps as a blessing. As I drift across the ice, I still can’t shake the feeling she only said she wanted to be my girlfriend to keep me from seeing what she was hiding. And that makes me mad. But then, what reasons do I have for that? Am I just jumping to conclusions because I’m confused and worried? How is that helping anything? I need to talk to her, but something about that makes me nervous. She is locked so tight about everything, what will happen if I pry?

Will she call it off?

Fuck, I don’t want that.

But I can’t sit here with this dread in my stomach, hoping she is okay. She always says I won’t understand. And yeah, I don’t understand how she could hurt herself. But if she explained it, maybe I could. Man, what the hell is going on? I just feel sick, and it isn’t from the night of drinking. It’s from being worried sick about her. I don’t want her to hurt.

Digging in, I finish my laps quickly, wanting to get off the ice to shower. I’m the first one done, and while I’m anxious to escape the ice, I know I can’t. I have to push my team, and soon I’m skating with our slowest lapper, Drake.

“You can go, bro,” he says like he always does, but I shake my head.

“Nope, I’m with you to win it.”

He gives me a sheepish grin, and then we are skating in silence. He is a quiet guy, and Lord knows I don’t want to talk right now. As we skate, Coach leans against the board, watching as Drake slows a bit. I can tell he’s getting tired, but I tap his shin.

“Two more.”

“This sucks,” he complains and I nod.

“For sure, but come on.”

He finishes, barely, before heading off the ice. Before I can follow him, though, Coach stops me. “Sinclair.”

I pause, closing the rink door before taking my glove off to unhook my helmet. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

I nod, pushing my cage up. I look down at my skates, acting as if I’m kicking the ice from them. “Yeah.” It’s still hard to look in this guy’s eyes, but it’s getting better, I think. I hope.

“You seem a little distracted.”

“Yeah, a lot on my mind.”

He nods. “Yeah, Autumn told me your dad is coming to the game.”

I swallow loudly as I pull off my helmet, shaking my hair out. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay with that?”

I shrug. “Yeah, he’s my dad.”

I can tell he wants to say more. Instead, he looks away, clearing his throat. “Okay, well, whatever is distracting you, let it go. You are my leader, my captain for this team. I need you to be on your game, especially with the scouts being here. I’ve been putting in good words for you with all my buddies.”

I smile. “I’ll be one hundred percent. No worries. And thanks a lot, Coach.”

He grins. “You know you can call me River off ice, if you want.”

I jerk my gaze to him, my eyes wide. “No way.”

He laughs. “Too much?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Even if you marry my mom, you will still be Coach, Coach.”

Jesus, why did I say that? Soon, I’m gagging. I try to hide it, but he laughs harder. “Good to know.”

“Yeah, can I leave now?”

Shaking his head, he asks, “Is this how it’s gonna be between us? You being all weird around me?”

I scrunch my nose up. “You’re dating my mom. It’s weird.”

Rolling his eyes, he grins. “Fine. Go.”

“See ya,” I say, running away as fast as my skates allow me. I really need to accept what is going on between him and my mom, but I’m finding that harder than it probably should be. If she’s happy, I should be… And not want to blow chunks at the thought of him with her.

Ew.

Hitting the showers, I joke with the guys before getting dressed. Coach was right. I am the leader, and I can’t let outside shit mess with me. When I’m on the ice, that’s it. Hockey is the only thing I need to think about, and that’s final.

I just wish I believed I can do what I say.

Because all I can do is think of her.

Worry about her.

“Hey, Sinclair, how many goals you gonna get this year?” someone calls to me. I don’t see who since I’m looking at my Facebook.

Grinning, I look up as Markus says, “Doesn’t matter. I’m getting more.”

Punching his thigh, I laugh. “Please, and you know I’m breaking my record.”

That gets a round of razzing before my phone sounds and my heart jumps in my throat, thinking it’s her. I don’t know if I can be cool, act like I didn’t see what I did. But then I see that it’s Jude.

Jude: Call me.

Closing my eyes, my heart sinks as I wonder if Lucy talked to him. Instead of calling him, I call her.

“Hey, make it quick. I have a client coming in, like, two minutes.”

“Jesus, you’re busy.”

“Hey, you won’t complain when Christmas comes. What’s up?”

I clear my throat. “Did you talk to Jude?”

“No, I was gonna call him after lunch.”

“He just texted me to call him.”

“Then call him.”

I roll my eyes. “Bye, Lucy.”

“Talk to you later.”

She was no help. Staring down at my phone, I know I need to call him, but I really don’t want to. But I need too. Going to his name, I click it and wait as it rings.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say, nervousness eating me alive as I slide my shoes on and lock my bag up. “Bye, everyone,” I call to the guys. “You said to call.”

“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. “I talked to Mom this morning, and she said Dad is coming to the game tomorrow.”

Shit. Swallowing hard as I push through the doors into the cool breeze, I tuck my hand into my pocket and say, “Yeah, he is.”

“Did you ask him to?”

“No,” I say honestly. “But when he asked, I told him when the game was.”

“So you two are talking like that?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “I don’t know, Jude. I don’t know what to say here that isn’t gonna have me watching my back from you and Jay.”