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Wolf looks down at his supported arm.

I wish I hadn’t said it quite like that.

"They had a lot going on," I add. "Surgeries, therapy, money. I understood. I just got used to figuring out my stuff without making it something else they had to worry about."

"Is that why you won’t take Beau’s money?"

"Part of it." I pull the covers a little higher over my legs. "They already paid for a degree I’m not using. I want to do this myself. I want to know the shop works because I built a business that can support it."

"You are building that."

"I know. I just need it to keep working."

"It will."

I look at him.

"You don’t know that."

"No," he says. "But I’ve watched you work. You don’t leave much to chance."

"I left my entire business under your bathroom."

He winces, then laughs when I smile.

"I’m still sorry about that."

"It wasn’t your fault. And I guess I got a better kitchen to work in for six weeks, and a getaway driver once in a while."

His smile fades a little.

"And Beau. I’m sorry about that too."

I lower my eyes to the blanket. It would be easier to keep talking about the shop. Or restart the show and let someone else’s family problems keep us occupied.

"I know you are," I say.

"I made a late hit. I was angry about what happened to our goalie, and I went after the player who did it when I shouldn’t have. Your brother got in the way, but that doesn’t change what I chose to do."

I look back at him. He isn’t trying to soften it or tell me Beau should have expected to get hurt.

"I can’t fix that, Baylor. I can’t make your family forgive me either."

"I know you can’t."

We sit quietly for a moment. Six years doesn’t disappear because he’s letting me use his kitchen or because I like the way he looks at me. Beau still deals with his knee. My parents still remember the hospital.

But Wolf remembers too.

We finish the flatbread, and I move the popcorn bowl to the nightstand. Wolf checks the time and takes off the ice wrap, setting it beside his water before easing his arm back onto the pillow.

"Better?" I ask.

"A little."

"Does it always hurt after a game?"

"Lately, yeah."