Page 66 of Puck Fest
Yes. Worth it.
Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.
I put the phone down and try to focus on work.
But all I can think about is how I’m supposed to maintain this almost impossible balance.
Be cold and professional at work. Be real and vulnerable inprivate. Keep everyone from noticing. Keep Alex from finding out. Keep my father from suspecting anything.
An hour later, my door opens without a knock. I look up.
Alex Naylor walks in, press credential still around his neck, that easy smile on his face.
“Hey, Noah. I’m heading out soon and just wanted to say hi.”
My stomach tightens. “Heading out as in heading back to Chicago?”
“No, actually. I’m still working on some follow-up for the Masterson piece.” He leans against the doorframe. “Interesting team meeting this morning. Masterson seemed...focused.”
“He’s a professional athlete. That’s his job.”
“Right. Professional.” Alex smiles. “Anyway, I’m at the Marriott if you want to grab a drink while I’m in town.”
“I’m busy,” I say.
He just smiles like I didn’t just shut him down. “Of course you are. See you around, Noah.”
He leaves, and I sit there with a knot in my stomach.
He’s staying. He’s watching. And that’s enough to make everything feel dangerous.
CHAPTER 18
DANNY
Pretending Noah meansnothing to me is the hardest thing I've ever done. Harder than playing through a torn rotator cuff.
Tuesday morning practice is torture.
I’m on the ice running drills while Noah stands at the boards talking to one of the assistant coaches. He’s in a suit…dark blue today…looking polished, put-together, and completely untouchable.
I want to skate over there, pull him into the tunnel, and kiss him until he melts into me like he remembers every second of what happened on Saturday night.
Instead, I focus on the drill. I pass to Carter, wait for him to pass it back, then I shoot on Tate. Rinse and repeat.
“Masterson! Focus!” Coach yells.
Shit. I missed that last pass completely. Carter looks at me.
“Are you awake or what?”
“Sorry.” I shrug. “My bad.”
We run it again. This time I don’t look at Noah.
After practice, I’m in the locker room pulling off my gear when my phone buzzes. I grab it and stab the notification on my screen.
Stop staring at me during practice.
