Kayden
Something was seriously wrong with Rhys. I could feel it in every little thing he did out there tonight. The way his shoulders stayed tense even after we won, the slight shake in his hands when he gripped his stick, the way his skates seemed to drag across the ice like they were carrying more than just his weight.
And then there was how he had snapped at me during the shootout like he was trying to shove me away instead of letting me in.
I knew him well enough by now to recognize when he was unraveling, even if he refused to admit it.
I had seen him talking to Damian Fernandez on the ice earlier. Their conversation looked intense, the kind that carried weight, but when I asked about it, Rhys shut it down fast. He wanted us to focus on the game, so I backed off and poured everything into playing.
