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Kira tried to make conversation about the refs. Trina mentioned the terrible ice conditions. Everyone was being kind, pretending this was normal, that goalies gave up three goals in the first period all the time.

I stared at my hands. The hoodie suddenly felt too much, a giant neon sign announcing exactly how much I cared and how badly this was going.

“I should leave,” I said quietly.

“Nope.” Haley’s hand found mine.

“I’m making it worse. He can’t focus with me here.”

“I don’t believe that’s it.”

“You saw him. He keeps looking up here.”

Kira spoke up, her voice gentle. “Because he cares about you, not because you’re a distraction.”

“It’s the same thing tonight.”

“Fedor told me once,” Simone said, “that the first time I came to a game, he played terribly.”

I glanced her way.

“He was so worried about impressing me that he forgot how to skate or shoot the puck.”

Sighing, she shook her head.

“The point is,” she said, squeezing my hand, “this isn’t about you being here. It’s about him figuring out how to play while knowing someone he cares about is watching.”

Haley squeezed my other hand. “Give him time to adjust. He’ll catch up.”

I wanted to believe them, to think this was normal, that every player went through it. That it would get better. But I’d seen his posture during the timeout. He’d appeared lost. Drowning.

Not long ago, this male had seen me when I was vulnerable.

So maybe watching him struggle, watching him be human, meant it was my turn to stay.

The second period started with Drachmar in the goal.

Brashe sat at the far end of the bench with his head down, glove in his lap, staring at nothing. He didn’t look up at the family section. Didn’t look anywhere.

My insides went hollow.

Drachmar played well, stopping shots, controlling rebounds, and being everything Brashe couldn’t be tonight. The team rallied and scored twice. The crowd came alive again.

Everyone around me was celebrating. I tried to join in, clapping when I was supposed to and cheering when goals were scored. But my eyes kept finding Brashe on the bench. He looked like someone who thought he was about to disappear.

Drachmar shut it down for the rest of the game. No goals against. The Purple Punishers scored three more, Crim making two.

The final score: 5-3 Purple Punishers.

The arena went wild. The Punishers now had a 2-1 series lead. Everyone in the family section was jumping around, hugging, and celebrating.

Simone grabbed me, tugging me up and into her arms. “We won!”

I hugged her back, my body going through the motions while my brain stayed on Brashe. He was on the ice now, congratulating his teammates, but he moved mechanically through the handshakes and back-slaps, his smile not reaching his eyes.

The players skated off. Brashe was last, limping slightly even though his hip was fine. Protecting it anyway. He disappeared into the tunnel without looking up.

The family section started to empty, women heading down to wait for their players.