Tristan POV
Practice ended early, but I didn’t feel any relief. My body was sore, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
I texted Liam on the way out of the arena.
Me:
Meet me at the corner store. Usual spot. Now.
He replied in under a minute.
Liam: On my way.
Ten minutes later I was standing in the back aisle of the little convenience store two blocks from the rink—the one that sold overpriced Gatorade and protein bars to athletes who didn’t want to be recognized. I grabbed a bottle of water I didn’t plan to drink and waited.
Liam walked in wearing a hoodie pulled low over his head. He spotted me immediately and came straight over, no bullshit small talk. That was why he was my best friend. He knew when something was wrong.
He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, studying
