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coconut water box at Riley. “I just didn’t want to abuse your hospitality. That’s all.”
    Riley shrugged it off and threw both empty boxes into the trash. “You live here too, you know. She seemed nice. Kind of feisty. That your type?” Riley smiled at him, and it was sharp in a way that made Ethan wonder if Riley was mad after all.
    “Not really. I mean. I don’t have a type. She was easy—ah. Not like—I mean, she was fun and no strings and…. Go running. Aren’t you going running?” Ethan bumped him with his shoulder. Riley was a nice guy, super easygoing and calm, but there was something about him that made Ethan wonder how much of that was a mask. There was a weird tension in his shoulders and a strange light in his dark eyes.
    He didn’t look mad. Not really. Just tense and focused, like he did on the ice.
    “Take a nap,” Riley told him. “Practice isn’t until two.”
    “You won’t let me oversleep. Right? I gotta show up today. As in bring my A game.” Ethan winced. “Or maybe my B -minus game. That’ll do. I can get that back with a nap, can’t I?”
    “Ethan. Go.” Riley pointed in the general direction of his bedroom. “Of course I won’t let you oversleep.”
    Ethan just nodded. He tried to find his usual grin and failed. He was tired. That was all. He turned and headed toward his bedroom. And then, before he could stop himself, he turned and asked, “You sure it’s okay?”
    Riley met his cool stare without blinking. “Yeah, Ethan. I’m sure.”
    Ethan nodded, went to his bedroom, fell on the bed, and closed his eyes. He could hear sounds from the kitchen. Riley was making himself breakfast, since he actually knew how to cook. There was something weirdly comforting about knowing he could sleep and not worry about being late to practice. He wasn’t used to anyone taking care of him.
     
     
    LUCKILY FOR Ethan his cheerful attitude and his willingness to put in some extra work on his skating kept him on the Sea Storm’s roster.
    To keep in shape, Ethan tried running with Riley. Which meant getting up way too early, whining about it, and borrowing a pair of Riley’s running shoes—because it was too hard to run in Doc Martens—and then nearly killing himself to keep up with his roommate’s easy, comfortable pace along the beach.
    The part where Ethan smoked a cigarette immediately before and after their run was probably detrimental to his progress. But hey. It was a start.
    Ethan also signed up for some outreach stuff, which seemed to surprise the coach, because Ethan went in to ask about it without anyone telling him to.
    “You like kids or old people?” asked Coach Spencer, known as Spence to the team, in his sharp, barking voice. He had a boxer named Slapshot, and that thing about people looking like their pets was totally true.
    “Umm,” Ethan answered and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
    “Not in a pervert way, you idiot,” Spence growled without rancor. “For that outreach shit.”
    “Kids mostly? But I mean, you know, just tell me if there’s something you want someone to go to, and I will.”
    “You on probation or something?” Spence asked, eyes narrowed at Ethan. “You look like a hooligan, but I don’t remember hearing you’d been arrested.”
    He should probably let his hair grow back. People kept saying that. “No, Coach. I just like it. I did that stuff in Vegas a lot, so I wanted to volunteer.”
    “Good way to get in with the fans,” Coach Spence said, so Ethan gave up trying to explain. It didn’t matter why Coach thought he was doing it. He just wanted the opportunity.
    Ethan got some of the guys together, and they took some teddy bears to a children’s hospital with Zoe Mays, the team’s photographer and marketing coordinator—and part-time bartender at Cruisers, because no one in the ECHL was well paid—along with the team’s mascot, Stormy. Stormy was a shark, and after that terrible Syfy movie came out,