“I did follow your orders until last night.”

He gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m full of shit. “If there was something going on, you should’ve been forthcoming, but you weren’t.”

“I would’ve told you if I’d had the chance, but that wasn’t really possible, now, was it?” Although, to be fair, I planned to change things last night, regardless. I should’ve told Alex about the event either way, but I hadn’t considered how it would look, which is really damn bad.

“Are you seriously lipping off to me, Winslow?”

“I’m trying to explain. I worked my ass off with Stevie. We spent a ton of time together over the past two months, and until last night I kept my end of the bargain. I was hands off and focused. She’s the reason I’m back on the ice.”

“Which means you don’t need her for PT anymore. If she actually worked for the team, she’d be out of a damn job for this. I need you to see the team physiotherapist, and then you can head home.”

“What about practice?”

“I think you need to do me a favor and give your team captain some time to settle down.”

“Let me get this straight. I’m being sent home because Rook is in a mood?”

“You’re being sent home because I need to set an example. You went against a direct order, and you didn’t come to me when you should have. This could’ve been avoided. PT and then home. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

I don’t ask any more questions because I don’t want to make things worse.

I get to play the following night, but I can’t say that’s a good thing. My head is all over the place, and Rook is pissed at me, which means everyone is tense. Add to that missing out on practice yesterday, and my on-ice performance is less than awesome. I’m also tight as hell from not having Stevie forcing extra PT on me.

To make a shit night even shittier, I haven’t seen or heard from Stevie since she sent me home yesterday morning. I don’t know what the protocol is. She wants space, so does that mean I should leave her alone entirely? Do I send her flowers? A pizza? Do I knock on her door and ask her if she’s ready to talk? Or do I let the dust settle and wait for her to come to me?

It’s late by the time I get home from the game. I stand in the middle of the foyer, breathing in the excessively fragrant flowers sitting on the glass-topped table, considering whether I should knock on her door. I don’t want to cause myself more problems with my team, and I don’t want to push Stevie to talk about this before she’s ready, so I leave it alone, even though I don’t want to.

The next morning we leave for a short series of away games. We’re playing in Nashville, Tennessee. Being in my home state is something I usually get excited for. It means I’ll invariably run into old friends from college, but I’m not looking forward to having to explain the viral video.

My go-to defense is generally to avoid commenting when stuff crops up on social media. It’s what I’ve always done with the women who’ve posted pictures of me after they’ve slept with my brother. But I’ve never had anything spread so far or wide this fast, so ultimately I’m avoiding doing anything because I honestly don’t know where Stevie and I stand, since she’s not talking to me.

I don’t want to corroborate what she said to Rook about it being on her, but I also don’t want to say we’re dating if we’re not. It’s a fucking mess. Until we have a conversation, I’ve decided to keep my damn mouth shut. Lord knows when I open it up and say the things I want to, I usually cause an assload of problems for myself.

Kingston and I are sharing a room, as we usually do, but he’s been off with me since the viral video happened. He drops his suitcase on the bed, unzips it, and starts putting his stuff away. Kingston functions on routine. He turns on the steamer he always packs so he can rid his clothes of wrinkles before he hangs them in the closet.

I flop down on the other bed and fold an arm behind my head. “How long are you going to be pissed at me for?”

Kingston moves his boxers from his suitcase to the nightstand drawer beside his bed. “I’m not angry.”

“Really? ’Cause it kinda seems like you are.”

He rolls his head like he’s working the kinks out of his neck before he turns to face me. “I’m disappointed.”

“About what?”

“How you’re dealing with this whole thing.”

“You mean the Stevie thing?’”

“What other thing is there?” he asks.

“It’s not my fault someone posted a video of us kissing.”

His lips thin, and he shakes his head. “Maybe not, but you’ve done nothing to dispel any of the rumors out there, made no statement; you haven’t even apologized to Rook.”

“What the hell do I have to apologize for?”

“For not thinking your actions through, Bishop. You put his little sister under a spotlight and did nothing to protect her after the fact. You say you’re into her and you want to date her, but your lack of action says exactly the opposite, don’t you think?”

“Stevie freaked out and told me she needed time to think and she didn’t want to be in my limelight, and now she won’t talk to me. Then Coach told me that my rehab with Stevie was over and that he better not find out I’m going behind his back. What am I supposed to do?”

“Something is better than nothing. That video has been up for four days, and you’ve done nothing. You dodge everyone’s questions and make no attempt to dissuade people from believing the worst. No one wants to be portrayed the way she is right now.”

“So what do I do?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Stop making her look like a puck bunny and claim her as yours.”

“But Coach said—”

“Coach and everyone else on the team thinks you messed around with her to be an asshole. No one actually knows you like this girl, apart from me.”

He makes a good point, one I hadn’t considered. “What if she doesn’t want to be mine?”

“At least you’ll have dispelled all the crap rumors floating around out there. You owe her that much, and the rest of your team, don’t you think?”

We end up winning the game and I manage an assist, which is a damn miracle, considering how frosty my teammates are being. Understandably so, considering the conversation I had with Kingston earlier. In spite of Stevie’s lack of communication, I send her a message to let her know that I still think we need to talk. I want to address the video, but I need a little guidance from her as to the direction I should take, because what I want to say is in direct opposition to what she told Rook, and that will inevitably open a whole different can of worms. I’m not opposed to dealing with him. I need to know what stance I’m taking, because the last thing I want is to throw Stevie under the bus, even if I think her bullshitting her brother is pointless.

As done as I am with today, I hit the bar with the rest of the team. As usual, Kingston orders a glass of milk and I grab a beer. A handful of people we went to college with show up, which means one beer turns into several. I keep checking my phone to see if Stevie’s responded, but nothing so far.