Tristan POV
The away arena in Detroit was loud and ugly. Twenty thousand fans screaming for blood, most of it mine. I stood at the bench during a TV timeout, helmet dangling from my hand, sweat stinging my eyes. Every shift on the ice sent little lightning bolts behind my eyes, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone. Not when the sponsors were already circling like vultures.
I glanced up at the Jumbotron. They were replaying my last big check. The crowd booed. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting through this game without completely falling apart.
Because Juniper was in my head again.
She always was now.
The ref blew the whistle. I pulled my helmet on and jumped back over the boards. The opposing team’s enforcer—a big, mouthy defenseman named Kowalski—lined up across fr
