Page 180 of Over the Line

“I’m sorry. I honestly am.” My voice was again threatening to shake apart, and I wasn’t so sure I could stop it this time. Not when I was opening up this vein. “I’ve got maybe three years left on the ice, Chris. Maybe. And then I have to figure out life after hockey. I have to figure out who I am once I’m not a hockey player anymore.” I swallowed hard, not that it helped. “This thing with your dad—it’s the first time I’ve really been able to look beyond retirement and think about a future.”

“So you guys…” He shifted his weight. “You’re serious. Like, not just hooking up—serious.”

Nodding, I whispered shakily, “I love him, Chris.”

The disbelief in his expression intensified alongside other emotions I couldn’t identify.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “And I know it doesn’t change anything, and there’s no way I can prove it, but—I mean, I guess I could show you some of our texts? But we were planning to tell you after the season was over.”

He swallowed hard. “Why so long? That’s still weeks away. Maybe months.”

“I know, and believe me, neither of us wanted to wait. It’s been stressing him out since the start.” I pushed out a breath. “He wasn’t trying to hide this from you. He didn’t want to hide anything from you, and he’s been tying himself in knots because he wanted to tell, but he also didn’t want to stress you out. Honestly, the thing he’s afraid of more than anything is losing you. He wasn’t trying to deceive you—he was just scared.”

“Did he really think I’d be mad?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t know. That was the problem. And in the beginning, we also just wanted to find our footing. Figure out what was going on.” I studied him. “I mean, how long were you dating Jasmine before you mentioned her to the team?”

Chris’s jaw tightened and he shifted his weight again. “That’s different, though. You guys are my teammates, not my parents.”

“Right, but you probably didn’t tell many people until you’d been dating her a little while, right?”

Avoiding my gaze, he conceded with a slight nod.

“Okay, so that was part of it. The other part…” I sighed. “He knew you were stressed about the baby, and he knows from experience how stressful those first few weeks are. That, on top of playing hockey, which I know from experience is stressful.” I exhaled. “Honestly, we just didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Chris slid his hands into his pockets, still not looking at me.

“I never wanted to cause problems with you and your dad,” I whispered unsteadily. “And I sure as hell never wanted you to find out the way you did. All I know is that I love him, and I want to find a way to make this work. With him, and with you as my teammate.”

Chris nodded slowly.

“I know this is hard for you,” I went on. “I know you’re angry with me and your dad, and I know how much it fucking sucks having the public talk about your personal life.”

He winced.

“We have to be able to coexist on the team, though,” I said softly. “So I’m asking you—what do you need from me to make that happen?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t do anything to get this ball rolling.” I tapped my chest. “I’m the one responsible for it. So that makes me responsible for smoothing things out between us enough that we can still play hockey.”

He studied me, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I mean… it’s hockey. It’s our job.” He shrugged tightly. “We can do it. Can’t we?”

“We can, but we also both know that there’s no hockey without emotion. And the other side of that coin is that too much off-ice emotion can fuck up the hockey.” I paused, debating how many cards I should show. Given that the crux of his fury was about us lying to him and withholding information, I decided to err on the side of saying too much. “To tell you the truth, the clock is ticking for us to unfuck our shit.”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Gil gave me an ultimatum. He wants us both in his office by noon tomorrow, telling him we can coexist and continue as linemates, or…” I gestured at the door.

Chris froze, and I thought some color drained from his face. “He’s—holy shit, he’s going to trade one of us? Or waive us?” He started pacing in the small room again. “He’ll waive me. There’s no way he’ll let you go, so he’ll⁠—”

“He won’t.”

“How can you say that?” Chris faced me, his expression full of desperation. “I’m a rookie, and you’re… you’re you! Who do you think he’ll let go?”

“I know,” I said evenly. “But—and I’m telling you this because I want you to know Gil isn’t fucking around. If you can’t coexist with me—if you aren’t willing to play alongside me—then I need you to tell me. Here and now. Because if not⁠—”

“Because if not, I’m fucking out of here?” He scoffed. “Awesome. You and Dad get to have your fun, and now I have to pay the price professionally.” With a wet, bitter laugh, he added, “I get to be the one to pay for my dad’s stupid bullshit, just like I did as a kid. What the fuck else is new?”