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I shake my head, huffing out a breath, and turn toward the street instead.

Space.

That’s what she wants.

Fine.

She’ll get it.

But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go.

Not even fucking close.

Two days.

That’s how long Anastasia has been avoiding me.

Not just the kind of avoidance where she happens to be busy. No, this is intentional. Calculated.

She’s been in meetings when I’ve been in the office. Too focused on game prep to acknowledge me in the training facility. Always walking in the opposite direction when I’m near.

I let it slide the first day. Gave her space. Let her sit with her anger, let myself sit with mine.

But by the second day, it’s starting to piss me off.

We have a job to do. We have a job to do. And she’s acting like I don’t exist.

Which is why, when I saw the rooming list for the away trip to Utah, I might have… made an adjustment.

It wasn’t intentional at first.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The team was already splitting into separate hotel blocks, coaching staff in one section, and team medical staff in another. The natural solution would have been to put Anastasia with the other medical staff. But a small tweak—one tiny request—meant that her room just so happened to be next to mine.

Interconnected by a single door.

The perfect way to get her to talk to me.

It’s not exactly manipulation.

I just… created the right opportunity.

If she wants to yell at me, she can. If she wants to slam the door in my face, she’s free to do that too.

But ignoring me?

That’s no longer an option.

By the time the team lands in Utah, the tension in my body is a dull, familiar hum.

The game against the Warriors is a big one. They’re right behind us in the standings, and if we slip up, they’ll take our spot.

But I’m not just tense because of the game.

I’m tense because I know exactly what’s coming when Anastasia realizes what I’ve done.

And I don’t have to wait long.