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I shake the voice from my head.

It doesn’t matter how many times I try to banish him and his stupid opinions; they still linger. They still torment me in his absence.

I can already predict everything he’s going to say to me about my performance tonight.

Not focused enough. Allowed too many takeaways. Spent too much time in the box.

The reason we lost.

None of the things I achieved, the pucks I saved, the takeaways I managed that ensured the puck ended up at the other end of the ice matter. That’s all white noise.

My failures, though? All of those do.

“My shoulder is tight,” I mutter reluctantly, watching as Darcy moves up the bed before assessing the damage.

I don’t want to ask anything of him. I’d much rather get up, walk out, and go home. But it’ll be to my own detriment. If I don’t get the treatment I need now, I’ll suffer tomorrow and all the days that follow.

“You’re tight as hell,” Darcy tells me, as if I haven’t noticed.

I suck in a deep breath through my nose, and it quickly comes rushing out when he finds the right spot.

I knew I’d see him again.

I wasn’t naive enough to think that he’d randomly stumbled upon the LA Vipers invite-only New Year’s Eve party.

I might not have done my research prior to that night, but I sure as shit did afterward.

He was obviously connected to someone. My first thought was that he was Darcy’s boyfriend.

But the more I watched them interact, I figured it wasn’t anything serious. They didn’t act like they knew each other all that well. Not like the other couples in the room.

It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered just how closely connected he is to the team. And the moment I learned the truth, I knew I’d royally fucked up.

In my defense, it was New Year’s Eve, for fuck’s sake, and I was sitting mostly alone at a table at a party I didn’t want to be at.

I might be a cold-hearted bastard with a one-track mind, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want a kiss at midnight like everyone else.

I just maybe should have chosen someone different to have it with.

I’ve been fighting all my life. Fighting to be good enough. Fighting to achieve all the things that are expected of me.

Fighting to hide who I really am.

I made a mistake in Vancouver. A mistake that very nearly cost me everything.

The last thing I need is to do it again.

LA is a chance for me to put what happened in Vancouver behind me and focus on what’s important.

The game.

I’m no less tense when I finally climb off Darcy’s table than I was when I got on it.

“Any plans for the rest of your evening?” he asks absently as he tidies up.

I observe him for a moment, but he does nothing for me. Thank fuck.

“Probably just gonna head home,” I confess.