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Then he says, “Come to practice with her. Two o’clock.”

I stop pulling. “Why?”

“Because I want you there.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you there. Same answer.”

I make myself breathe. “Then why don’t you invite Jules?”

His expression softens, and I hate that immediately. “Look who’s jealous now.”

I let go of the shirt. He folds it back over his arm like he’s holding it for me, which I guess he is, and I’m standing there with empty hands and a heart betraying me in every direction.

“I’m not jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous about. You can have whoever you want over. It’s not my—” I gesture at the hallway, at him, at the entire situation. “It’s not my business.”

Nash glances down the hall. Nobody’s out here. “I invited her over last night to tell her I’m done,” he says. “That’s what last night was. I’m not doing that anymore.”

I look up at him. “So you didn’t get your dick wet?”

Nash stares at me.

“That’s what I thought,” I say.

He holds up the shirt. “I’ll use this next time.”

“Use your hand, not my fucking shirt. What’s wrong with you?”

I grab for it, and he holds it over my head. “Come to my practice.”

I give up on the shirt. “Whatever, Nash.”

I walk into my room and I’m smiling before the door is all the way shut. Tessa is looking up at me from her desk.

“Did you hear any of that?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Liar.

A few of the guys are already on the ice when we walk in, and none of them look like Nash. A shiver goes all the way through me, so I wrap my arms around myself and follow Paige and Kenzie into the stands. There are maybe fifteen people spread out in twos and threes: a couple of parents, a girl in a Woodbury hoodie with her phone out. We sit eight rows up behind the glass, and Kenzie hands me half the blanket she brought, which turns out to be the smartest thing anybody has ever done.

The rest of the team comes out in pairs and threes until there are twenty-something guys down there, and the building fills with noise from blades, pucks banging off the boards, and a whistle every ninety seconds from a guy in full gear who Paige says is the captain. I can’t find Nash for the first few minutes. They’re all in the same practice jerseys, half of them are the same size, and they’re at the far end. Then they split into groups, and then I finally find him at the far circle.

I don’t understand a single thing that’s happening, and that’s not an exaggeration. I don’t know what any of the drills are for or why they stop and start. There’s a thing where two guys crouch over a dot on the ice and everything happens so fast that the puck is gone before I’ve seen anyone touch it.

I keep watching Nash, and he’s fast. Not the fastest guy out there, because there’s somebody on the other end who skates like something’s chasing him. But Nash goes from standing still to full speed in about two strides, every single time, like it’s nothing.

And he’s loud. I can hear him from eight rows up through a wall of glass, not yelling, calling, short flat words all the way up the ice, and people move when he does it. Koda takes off before the puck is anywhere near him. Rafe, who I’ve watched be a prick to everyone he’s ever met, does what Nash says instantly, without even turning his head. They come up the ice together three times in twenty minutes, and all three times it ends with somebody scoring and somebody banging a stick on the boards. The third time, Kenzie says, “Okay, that was cool,” out loud, and I say, “Mm,” because my mouth isn’t working right.

Somebody hits him along the boards right in front of us. I think it’s Declan. I hear the whole thing, glass and boards and body, and my stomach drops through the floor. Nash doesn’t fall. He takes it, turns, and keeps going.

Eventually, he comes off at the far end and stands at the bench with his helmet off. His hair is soaked and pushed back off his forehead and his face is red. He’s got one glove tucked under his arm while he shoves his hair out of his eyes with the back of his other hand, saying something to the captain with his whole jaw, pointing down the ice with his stick without looking. Then he puts the helmet back on, and my heart goes down with it. He’s back on the ice, and my heart is racing.

I fold my fingers together before they can start fidgeting. My stomach is going like something bad is happening, and I think something bad is happening to me. I never felt this way watching Evan. What I had with Evan grew out of attention. I never watched him with this unexplainable weight sitting on my chest thinking, what the hell am I going to do? That’s what’s happening right now. Then I remember breakfast, and then the hallway, and I go hot all over. I cross my legs and throw the blanket off.

Kenzie looks at me and hands more of the blanket to Paige.