Page 72 of Tough Call

“Make it fifty, and we’ll call it a double minor.”

“Hey!” I whacked at Connor with my stick, but he danced away from it, laughing like the gremlin he was. “You’re a dick.”

Still cackling, he flipped me off as best he could in hockey gloves.

I just rolled my eyes. He grinned, winked, and skated away.

Fucking hell. You’re so beautiful.

I sensed someone watching me, and I turned to see Mülly giving me another odd look. Heat instantly rushed into my face. I tore my gaze away and skated after Connor, hoping my teammate either didn’t say anything or didn’t think anything of it.

No such luck.

I’d stopped for some water when Mülly skated up beside me, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. He also switched to German, which I spoke and understood, if not as effortlessly as Latvian or English, as if to make sure no one but us knew what he was saying. “Mads, I don’t want to get into your personal business, but…” He tilted his water bottle toward Connor. “Are you sure about this?”

I blinked. Also in German, I replied, “Sure about what?”

“Don’t play stupid. I know you two aren’t just friends.”

Heat blazed in my face, and I doubted even being flushed from the game could hide the blush. I glanced in Connor’s direction, watching him chatting with Emilia as they passed a puck back and forth.

“He’s a referee, Mads,” Mülly hissed.

“In the NAL.” I shrugged tightly. “I play in Switzerland. What difference does it make?”

“But you want to play in the NAL, don’t you?”

I gritted my teeth. “I do, but I think that ship sailed long before I ever touched Connor.”

Mülly stared at me like I was the biggest dumbass on the planet. “Are you stupid?”

I straightened. “What?”

“Are you—Mads. Mads, for fuck’s sake.” He put his water bottle down hard enough that some erupted from the spout onto his glove. “Coach is always saying he’s worried that you and Vilde will get snatched up by North America. If anyone on our team is going to make that leap…”

Scowling, I put down my own water bottle. “That was before I fucked up my knee.”

Mülly looked pointedly at my knee, then back at me. “You’re skating. You’re playing.” He spread his arms. “What’s the problem?”

“But am I playing at NAL speed?” I frowned. “Last time I hurt my knee, no one would sign me. They’re sure as fuck not going to import me.”

“You never know.” He gestured with his water bottle before bringing it up for a drink. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mads. You’re good. They see that, and if they’re smart, they’ll come looking for you.” He lowered his voice. “And if they find out you’re dating a referee…”

Avoiding his gaze, I chewed the inside of my cheek. I knew he was right. The NAL wouldn’t put up with a ref and a player in a relationship. But what was I supposed to do? Give up Connor on the off chance the League offered me a contract?

I let my gaze drift to the man in question, watching him doing some crossovers and lazily chasing pucks. Then I stared down at my water bottle as my heart thumped against my ribs.

What if the NAL wants to sign me?

What happens to us?

What if I have to choose between⁠—

Someone skated up and showered us with ice crystals. As I brushed them off, I turned to see Emilia grinning at us, with Connor approaching at more leisurely pace.

“Are you boys going to stand here all day and gossip like little girls?” She tapped her husband’s stick. “Or are we going to use this ice time that we paid for?”

Mülly groaned. “This woman never lets me rest.”