54. KAVI

54

KAVI

Déjà vu, I'm outside the door, listening to Dmitri in an ice-bath. I shiver, because the thought of immersing my body into such coldness fills me with dread. How does he do it?

I knock lightly. "Can I come in?"

There's a crinkling noise, as if my voice surprised him. He doesn't answer for a few heartbeats. I'm about to stammer that it's okay when he rumbles, "If you want."

I do want. It has nothing to do with the thought that he could be naked—will he be?—but because I've chewed my lip with worry. He came straight home after the game as if whatever was happening was that bad, as if he couldn't risk anyone seeing it.

I open the door and slip inside his massive, customized spa-therapy-wet-room. Dmitri is in the center, inside a massive tub filled with ice. I don't have to ask where the ice comes from. Built into the wall is an on-demand ice generator. He's done this often enough to make it efficient.

Dmitri is naked except for shorts, as far as I can tell. I'm not looking below the big defenseman's eyes. They easily have me pinned. Dark eyes are drenched in pain, even if the rest of his face emotes nothing but flat neutrality.

"You didn't have to come home, Kavi."

"I know." I sit on the ledge right beside the tub. My fingers interlace. "But I had to know."

"What?"

"How bad is your knee?"

He doesn't speak for many, many moments, as if the answer is deeply buried. Like he's not used to trusting anyone with the information.

"Bad."

Crack. If my heart could make a sound, that would be it.

"Does anyone on the team know about it?" I whisper. Has he kept this to himself this entire time?

"They don't." He lifts his leg above the water.

The skin along his scar is puffier than it should be. Swollen.

I hiss out a breath.

"By the way, Kavi."

" ..Yeah?"

"You should know. At this rate, I won't be one of the best players in the league. There's a chance my contract won't renew after this season. You should know that. What the future doesn't hold for someone like me."

There's more cracking in my chest. Heartache drags through me, a follow-up.

"There's a good chance I'll lose it all," he says.