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“There you are.” Veskar’s voice came from behind me, much too smug. “Someone’s got a girlfriend.”

I didn’t turn around. “Shut up.”

“Is that her handwriting? That’s definitely her handwriting.” He appeared beside me, grinning like he’d won the last game all by himself. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Your face is doing a thing.”

“My face doesn’t do things.”

“It’s doing a thing right now.” He clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make the coffee slosh in the cup. “She’s good for you.”

I took a sip instead of answering. The coffee was perfect. She’d remembered how I liked it.

Tolrek arrived next, moving with his usual quiet. He took one look at the cup in my hand, the note, and my face, and nodded once.

“She’s good for you,” he said.

“That’s what I said,” Veskar crowed.

“Everyone shut up,” I muttered.

But I kept the note, folding it carefully and tucking it in my equipment bag where nobody could see it, but I’d know it was there.

My phone buzzed.

How’s the hip? Ellie asked.

Perfect, because you took care of it for me.

Flatterer.

Just honest.

I grinned at my phone like a fool.

Thank you for the coffee, I texted.

You’re welcome.

Mikael walked past, saw my face, and whistled low. “Kedish is smiling. Someone alert the media.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You’re definitely smiling.”

I shoved my phone in my pocket and started getting dressed, but the grin wouldn’t leave.

We went up onto the ice, and the assistant coaches pushed us hard. By the time we’d finished the third set of defensive drills, my hip burned the way Ellie said it should. Deep muscle work, not injury. Progress. There was no hesitation in my movements, no pull when I dropped into the butterfly position.

Physically, I felt fine.

Mentally, I was a disaster.

Game four was tomorrow. We needed a win. Four wins and we’d move to the next round.

I’d played like a mess in game three. I’d let everyone down.