"COME ON REF, CALL SOMETHING!" Kaila bellows as Russo gets tripped by a Kalamazoo player's stick.

The game continues. Russo finds his feet and surges back into the fray. The puck travels over the ice faster than I can quite figure out where and why. Kaila tried to explain the rules to me, but I honestly tuned out. Doesn't seem to matter, though. I could watch this sport all day without knowing any of the nuances to it.

Kaila whoops for Spencer as he shoulder-checks a Kalamazoo leftwing and nabs control of the puck. He's not as slippery or agile as Bas, but I can't imagine being faced with that mass barreling toward me at close to 35 miles per hour.

I guess I should say I could never tire of watching Bas on the ice. He's as tough as he is graceful, swerving checks with languid acrobatics and deking shots on the goal left and right. Even when he gets plastered against the plexi right in front of me, I find myself jumping to my feet right next to Kaila and bellowing, "That was such bullshit!"

Kaila grins over at me. "Look who's getting into the game."

I roll my eyes, can't quite hide the smile. "It's kind of exciting."

A long drawl of 'ooo' from the crowd turns us back to the rink. Spencer is flattened on the ice, jaw tight in a grimace. A Kalamazoo player – Debroski – is lead off the ice by the ref and placed in the penalty box. Numbers flash on the jumbotron followed by the announcement "two minutes for hooking".

Kaila and I stand on our tip-toes as Spencer's teammates surround him. He grits his teeth, struggles to his feet. I notice his left knee gives out, dropping him awkwardly back to the ice. Bas, positioned beside him, looks grim. Without pretense, he slings the bigger man's arm over his shoulder and supports him as they skate toward the team box.

"Oh God, Spence!" My best friend presses her fingers to her lips, watching the team doc rush at him on the bench.

"I'm sure he's fine," I declare with confidence I don't feel. "Probably just twisted something."

I hope that's all it is. The tight set of Bas's jaw suggests otherwise, though.

The rest of the game passes in a blur. I learn the term "hat trick" when Bas scores the third and final goal in the third period. Everyone takes off their caps and toboggans and tosses them over the Plexiglass and into the rink, including Kaila.

Cincinnati wins with a score of 3-2.

**

Back at our hotel, Kaila pulls me aside as we step through the front doors. Her brows are pinched and she's chewed her thumbnails down to the quick.

"Can we switch rooms or something?"

"Huh?"

Kaila rolls her eyes, "C'mon Reecie. Like you and Bas in a room and me and Spence in another?" She clarifies with hand gestures.

"That's fine, I guess." I hug my arms tighter, nervous and fluttery at the notion of sleeping in the same room as Bas, with a bed beneath us. It's always just been the couch, and he consistently took me home each night. "I'll get my stuff later, yeah?"

Kaila smiles, throws her arms around my neck. "Yay!"

I nod into her shoulder, then, because I can't help my meddling, "Did you know Spencer has a kid?"

The abrupt way Kaila pulls back, surprise on her features, answers my question before she does. "I didn't know you knew." She responds as we meander toward the lounge area, two comfy chairs in our sight.

I didn't until today. "Are you okay with it?" I question.

Kaila shrugs, "Yeah, why not? It's not like I really have a say. I like Spencer. That's what matters."

We settle down beside one another in suede-colored chairs that sink under our weight. They're clearly worn out and ready to be replaced. I shift around, trying to get comfortable. "Have you met them?"

"Him, actually," Kaila corrects, staring at her nails as she speaks. "His name is Brixton and he's still young; that's pretty much all I know. So, no, I haven't met him yet."

"But you expect to?" I push.

Kaila scowls and looks up, suspicion in her green eyes. "What's with the third-degree?"

I shrug noncommittally and stare up at the high ceiling with its pretty chandelier and dramatic artwork. "Nothing, I'm just thinking about you is all."

Kaila, unsatisfied by my vague answer, leans forward and waves her hand past my face. I blink and meet her challenging gaze. "Oh yeah, what about me exactly? You thinking I'm too young to consider dating a guy tied down with someone else's kid?"

I bite my lip and debate how to answer. That had been what I was thinking, I just wasn't sure saying it out loud was the best course of action. "I just don't want you to miss out on any opportunities." I supply, hoping that doesn't sound too awful.

Kaila apparently doesn't like it nonetheless. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. "You make it sound like kids are the end of a person's life. It's not like I'd drop out of college or anything, become some pathetic housewife with no aspirations just because Spencer has a child. This doesn't change anything," she barks, incredulous as she stares me down.

Inwardly, I cringe, realizing the insinuation. "That's not how I meant it. I just..." I drop off, attempting to wrangle in my thoughts so that my next sentence comes out in a way that doesn't send Kaila into a tantrum.

With a breath, I splay my hands between us in the air good-naturedly. "It's just that if you two get serious, you won't be able to stand on the sidelines. His kid will become your priority too. You'll essentially be a stepmom. It might not change things now, but it could later."

Kaila glowers, but a small flicker of uncertainty twinkles through her eyes. It's gone as quickly as it comes, and she grits her teeth. "I haven't even met his kid. Who knows when I will. It's not like that."

"Okay," I relent, "I just don't want to see you get hurt." I want you to be careful.

Kaila considers me for a moment, eyes narrowed to slits. I can tell she's trying to keep her cool, not make a scene in public. She doesn't get my concern, that I'm only trying to look out for her.

"Your opinion has been noted." She grumbles tersely. "Now back off."

I open my mouth to reply, only to close it again when a small crowd begins to gather around the front doors. The Cyclones lumber in, breaking our awkward tension with their raucous entry. Spencer and Bas are crowded in the center of their teammates. Spencer's got a vague limp and Bas looks pissed. The rest of the guys talk animatedly, throwing looks at their captain.

"Spence!" Kaila darts forward, throws her arms around Spencer's neck. He grunts and counterbalances her attack.

"One of these days Blue, you're gonna take me out," Spencer says on a laugh. Kaila giggles and pulls back, melting like an ice cream cone in the middle of summer.

I roll my eyes, cross to Bas, and tug on his hand. He rouses from his thoughts, blinks down at me, relaxes slightly.

"Henry, remember?" I whisper, Bas frowns. Then recognition floods his eyes and he checks his phone.

"Fuck, come on," Bas grips my hand, tugs me down a side hall that branches off from the lobby. We follow it to the end, where a side door waits.

Before Bas can open it, I place myself in his way and tangle my fingers in his hair, pull his mouth down to mine. Bas sighs into the kiss, curls his arms around my waist, and pulls me tightly against him. Kaila's not the only one melting.

We're both breathless when I pull back and press my forehead against his. "Why are you so upset?" I coax, draw my hands down his neck. Bas clenches his jaw, fingers gripping my hips. "Talk to me," I bite my lip, peer up at him through my bangs.

Bas rolls his shoulders and releases me, hands diving into his already disheveled hair. "It's nothing, I just don't know how that happened. One minute Spence was fine, the next he's on the ground and Debroski's standing over him. Laughing." Bas grinds his teeth.

I cross my arms, frown. "But he is fine."

Bas nods, "Out for two weeks though," he adds.

"That's not too long," I reassure, step closer.

Bas shakes his head, retreats. "It's not just that I didn't have his back, he asked me to fill in for him. He wants me to act as Captain until he heals up. The guys are bitchin' at both of us for it." Bas gestures back at the lobby and his team. "I'm the new kid to them, not a leader. Some punk on loan from the NHL."

"They respect you—"

Bas laughs, the sound cold. "They know I'm good, but that only goes so far. No one trusts me to bat for them on shitty calls. They've only had me on their team for a few months."

I reach out, this time Bas doesn't pull away. He lets me loop my fingers in the waistband of his jeans and tug him forward. Bas rests his hands on my hips, eyes heated but still torn.

"You've earned your place here, Bastien, and you told me once that Spencer wants you as his assistant captain. This is his way of getting the team to accept you. And showing you that you're up for it."

Bas draws his hands up my sides, cups my cheeks in his huge hands. Those hazel eyes brim with affection. "How do you know what to say?"

I smirk, peck his lips, and extract myself from his hold. "It's a secret," I whisper, flinging the side door wide.

Henry shivers on the other side, glaring as he pushes past with the spray-painted sheep in tow. They're tethered to guide ropes.

He hands one off to me, the other two to Bas. "Hell of a game. Your captain okay?"

"He will be."

Henry nods, salutes. "Have fun, call and I'll pick 'em up." He fixes Bas with a warning stare, cocks a finger. "In one piece, ya hear?"

Bas chuckles, "You have my word."

Then Henry's gone, slipping back out into the cold like he'd never been there at all. Bas looks at me, reigns in his sheep with a devious smirk.

"Let's have some fun," he unclips them and gives each a tap on the rump.

They startle, along with mine, who fights me as I unclip her. They take off down the hall. Bas and I ditch the ropes, chase after. I can't stop giggling as I enter the lobby, see people yelping as sheep barrel past them.

Spencer whips around, the team crowding the creatures. Kaila screams, has herself nearly on Spencer's back. The two collapse when a sheep sweeps Spencer's legs out from under him.

"Bas, you fucker!" Spencer yells, Kaila tumbles with a yelp. Russo, Bower, and Johnson lunge for a sheep while some other players go after another.

It's total chaos where guests run out of the way, receptionists, and hotel staff rush to regain control of the situation. Spencer's on his feet, Kaila squealing beside him when a sheep comes darting past. Spencer dives for it, grips its body, and turns so he takes the impact of the fall. The sheep bleats, startled, and struggles against him. Kaila is quick to try and comfort it.

Bas joins the fray, teaming up with Russo to corner a sheep between them, Johnson, and Bower. I back myself out of the action, pull my cell phone from my pocket and start recording.

"They have numbers!" Someone from the team yells.

"Hey Spence, what do you got?" Russo hollers over the roar of chaos. I turn my screen, catch Spencer still fighting to hold tight to the sheep as Kaila checks its sides.

"One!" She announces.

"Two's over here!" Someone shouts, Johnson breaks off from Bas and the others, heads toward sheep number two.

"This is four," Russo comments, pointing at the sheep in question. Bas fakes confusion, catches my eye, and winks.

"Where the hell's number three?" He asks, looking all over the lobby.

"Who cares? Catch these!" Bower chastises, charges at the sheep. It slips out of the way just in time, Bower crashes to the floor with a grunt. Bas starts laughing, chases after the runaway sheep.

Across the lobby, Johnson and a few others have sheep number two cornered behind the receptionist's desk. The woman stands on the counter, wide-eyed and screaming. I can't suppress my giggle as she kicks out a high-heeled foot when a player tries to coax her from the chaos.

It takes several more tries before two and four have been captured and hooked back to their guide ropes. Kaila takes charge of controlling the startled sheep while the team spreads out, searching for the missing number three. Bas is talking with Spencer, making a plan of where to look next. He's smiling when he sees me recording him.

"I'd say come join but then you'd put the phone down. This is too good not to get on camera." He winks, I roll my eyes.

"Stop flirting with Reagan, there's another to catch." Spencer chides, starts limping away. Bas follows so I busy myself with footage of Kaila cuddling with the sheep.

"They're so cute!" She cries, "I hope that last one's okay."

I giggle, and Kaila looks up, gives me a suspicious look. I feign innocence.

"What're you laughing at? There's a sheep on the loose," she shakes her head at me, pats one of the creatures on the head. I pinch my lips together, wiggle the camera.

"Mhm," I acknowledge, Kaila scowls at me.

"Where the hell is it?" Spencer yells as he and Bas come charging back into the lobby. Russo and Bower follow close behind, arms crossed.

"It's not here." One of them informs.

Bas smirks. "You all just aren't looking hard enough."

Spencer catches Bas in a brawny headlock. "Really? 'Cause I'm starting to think there isn't a number three."

Bas does some sort of ninja maneuver and twists out of the hold, "Took you long enough."

"Bastien, you fucker." Spencer scoffs, hits him upside the head. "Had us dancing around this place looking for a ghost."

Bas laughs, pats his friend on the shoulder. "You were overdue for a Killfeather prank."

**

Bas swipes his keycard over the door. It clicks and he turns the knob. I breathe in sharply, clasp my arms across my chest. Bas glances at me, gestures with his hand. I hesitate, then slowly step into his hotel room. He follows, closes the door with a soft snick.

Darkness swallows us immediately.

"You got a lamp in here?" I tease, voice shrill. Bas chuckles and dim lighting floods the room. I expel a heavy sigh, turn to face him slowly.

Bas goes to set my duffle on the bed but it tumbles over the edge. The main zipper was never closed so everything spills out. The box of condoms, Kaila's lingerie, and the silver razor blade. My heart sinks into my stomach.

"Shit!" I yelp, dive for the items.

But Bas's reflexes are faster. Stupid professional athletes. He gets there first, plucks up the blade, and closes his palm over it.

"What the hell's this for?" Bas holds the fisted blade before him.

I stop short at the fury in his voice, look up and meet eyes full of emotion. Rage. Horror. Panic.

"It's just—"

"Please don't lie to me," Bas cuts me off, jaw clenched.

I bite my lips, fiddle with the sleeves of my hoodie. "I wasn't going to..." I whisper.

Bas breathes in deeply, takes a step closer. "Okay, then what the hell is this doing in your bag?"

I flinch at his growling tone, retreat a step. "I just wanted something on hand. It doesn't mean I was going to use it."

"What the fuck does that even mean? Do you want to hurt yourself?" Bas challenges.

I squirm under his stare, "I don't know. Not right now but—"

"But maybe later, right?" Bas retorts.

I grind my teeth, cross my arms coolly. "Stop pretending that you know me."

Bas flinches as if my words struck him. He shakes his head, makes to speak, then closes his mouth and whirls away.

"Bastien!" I shriek, follow closely on his heels as he stalks into the bathroom. "Give it back!" I lash out, fist his shirt in my hands. Bas halts, casts me a backward glance, and twists out of the garment.

"No," he says curtly.

I yelp, hurl the t-shirt at his head as panic starts to bubble in my chest. "You don't understand!" I cry, horrified as he flicks the blade into the toilet and flushes. I lunge, but Bas's arms encircle me and haul me back.

"Are you really going to try and get it back, Reagan? Seriously?" His torso quivers with the force of his emotions, steel strength banding across my chest and abdomen, lips close to my ear.

"You have no right!" I scream, throw my head back. My skull connects with his shoulder.

He grunts but doesn't move. "Stop it."

"Then let me go."

Bas obeys and backs away. "I'm not going to stand by while you hurt yourself. I can't."

"You don't understand!" I repeat, stuck in a loop of my own thoughts.

Bas throws his arms wide, voice ragged. "Then make me, dammit!"

I cross my arms, "It's a release. You should understand that Bastien. Isn't that what hockey is? You enjoy pain, you like getting into fights. Why can't I enjoy cutting?"

Bas gestures sharply to a fresh bruise on his ribs. "This isn't self-inflicted!"

"Bullshit! You charge right into those brawls."

Bas clenches his jaw, "It's not the same thing."

"Tell me how it's different," I challenge, widen my stance and stare defiantly up at him.

Bas returns the look, expression agonized. "I get hurt doing something I love, and I know where to draw the line. This—" Bas grips my wrists, shoves up the sleeves. "This isn't because you love it. This is because you're upset, in pain, whatever. Do you know where the line between enough and too much is? What if you cut too deep? Slice through the wrong vein?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"You're not." Bas agrees on a low rumble, "But you're reckless when you're hurting. There are no second chances if you're dead, Reece."

My breath catches in my lungs. "Why would you—"

"I don't want to lose you!" Bas bellows, backing me up against the wall with his huge frame.

I refuse to be made to cower, refuse to accept his fury without offering my own. I fist my hands on his chest, push back. It's like shoving a cement barricade. He braces his hands on my hips even as he retreats and gives me space.

"Have you ever thought of the people you'd leave behind? Even once?" Bas continues in a less infuriated tone. His entire body is taut, but the story behind his eyes, spread all over his face, is no longer controlled by anger.

"Like who?" My vehemence, on the other hand, hasn't dimmed and I press on. "Like my mother?"

Bas's lip curls. "Like your father. Like Kaila. Like me." His hands pull at the hoodie, twist the fabric through his fingers as he slides his palms up my sides. I shiver despite myself.

"They'd be fine, you'd be fine." I sneer right back. "Look at the stress I bring to Kaila's life, the time my dad spends worrying about me. You. The time you waste with me."

Bas presses his body in closer, cups my cheeks with both hands, and forces my chin up. I refuse to meet his eyes, stare over his shoulder at the ceiling.

"It is never a waste." He ducks his head, breathing uneven. "They love you, I—"

A drop of moisture lands on my cheek, slides down my chin and onto my neck. I jerk, glance at Bas. His jaw is tight, eyes glassy. But no tears. Not from him – except the one that hit my cheek.

He lifts his gaze, swallows his emotions, draws his palm over his face. My heart shatters, the anger slipping away in a blur.

"Bas," I whisper, trailing my fingers up his bare chest to his jaw. He turns into my touch, tormented gaze flickering down to me. "I've thought about it before, okay? Right after I came home. Even longer when my nightmares were so bad. Before I met you." I swallow, use my fingers to tilt his face down. "But that's not what this is—what cutting is to me now. It's how I know I'm alive, not stuck in my own personal hell. It's a bad habit that I don't know how to break. Okay? I promise, I'm not trying to do anything other than keep myself together."

My confession is met with narrowed eyes, a small tilt to his head, and the ticking of his jaw. For a moment I worry I've lost him. Me, a foolish girl with hopes that someone would, could understand.

"Then hurt me," he says finally, voice cracking. "When you feel like you need to hurt yourself, hurt me, instead."

I give a strangled yelp. "What? I couldn't—"

"It's not what you think," Bas cuts me off, laughs. He dips his head, kisses me softly. I try to return it, but my thoughts are racing with his request. No, my head is spinning so fast I can't even begin to focus on the present when he's saying such crazy things.

"Bastien—"

"Just," he stops me again, pinches his lips, and shakes his head. "Let's just go to sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow. Now's not the time." He strokes my throat, the pulse point, with his thumb. That small touch instantly soothes me. Hazel eyes search mine, beg for patience, express their infinite exhaustion.

I bite my lips together and nod, let him lead me to the bed.