"Hand it over. Everything you've got." Five of them had boxed Nora in on the narrow path behind the old gym, far enough from campus that nobody would hear anything over the wind. She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. Her laptop, her scholarship papers, and every dollar she owned were inside. Losing any of them would be a disaster. "No."she said. The tallest one laughed, and the others joined in, the way people laughed when they thought you hadn't understood the situation yet. "Cute," he said. "Say that again when there's a knife out." Two of them pulled blades from their jackets. The metal flashed in the gray afternoon light. Nora's stomach tightened. She'd faced worse things than a group of idiots looking for easy money. She'd learned early that showing fear could make people bolder. But knowing how to handle dangerous people and standing in front of five of them with nowhere to run were two very different things. "I've lived on the streets my whole life," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "You think that scares me?" The nearest one lunged. She twisted aside, but he was faster than she'd expected. His fist caught her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Pain burst across her jaw, and she stumbled into the wall. Before she could recover, he grabbed for her bag. Nora caught his wrist and twisted with everything she had. He swore, and she drove her elbow into his ribs. His grip loosened just enough for her to wrench the strap free. Then someone slammed into her from the side. Her shoulder struck the pavement first, followed by her knee. Pain shot up her leg. She barely had time to roll before a boot came down where her head had been. "Got her!" Nora scrambled backward, her palms scraping against the rough ground. She tried to stand, but her injured knee buckled beneath her. The boy with the boot grinned and stepped closer. She kicked at his shin. He cursed and staggered, giving her enough time to grab the edge of a nearby wall and haul herself upright. Her knee screamed in protest, but she forced herself to stay standing. The boy she'd elbowed came at her again. This time, she wasn't fast enough to avoid him completely. His fist caught her shoulder, spinning her around. She hit him with the heel of her palm, catching his nose, then shoved past him. For one hopeful second, she saw a gap between two of the boys. She ran for it. A hand caught the back of her jacket and yanked her backward. The fabric tightened around her throat, choking off her breath. She clawed at the collar, twisting desperately until the seam tore and she stumbled free. A flash of silver appeared beside her face. She jerked away. The knife sliced through the air, close enough that she felt the movement against her skin. Her heart lurched. There was no more room for bravado. These boys weren't going to stop because she refused to be intimidated. They were angry now, and one of them had already tried to cut her. She needed to get out. The boy holding the knife swung again. Nora ducked, but her injured knee gave way, and she dropped awkwardly to one side. The blade caught the fabric of her jacket instead of her arm. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, fighting to keep the knife away from her body. He was stronger than she was. The blade crept closer. "Get off me!" she gasped. She drove her forehead into his face. He recoiled with a shout, and the knife slipped from his hand, clattering onto the pavement. Nora scrambled away from it, but another attacker caught her around the waist before she could reach the opening. His arms locked around her. She couldn't get enough air to shout. She threw an elbow backward, but it struck his shoulder. He tightened his grip, dragging her off balance. Desperation took over. Nora stamped down on his foot and slammed the back of her head into his face. He loosened his hold with a howl. She tore herself free, but the sudden movement sent a sharp bolt of pain through her knee. She nearly went down again. The tallest boy stepped in front of her, blocking the path. "Had enough?" Nora's chest heaved. Her cheek throbbed, her palms stung, and her knee felt ready to give out. She could taste blood where she'd bitten the inside of her mouth. She looked past him. The second boy with a knife was moving toward her. She couldn't fight all five of them indefinitely. She knew that now. But she didn't need to beat them all. She needed one chance to get away. When the tallest boy reached for her bag again, she swung it hard into his face. He staggered backward, swearing. Nora shoved past him. Someone grabbed her sleeve, and she twisted violently to escape. The fabric ripped. A hand caught her shoulder, but she struck backward with her elbow and felt it connect with something solid. She didn't wait to see who she'd hit. She ran. Her injured knee protested with every step, forcing her into an uneven, painful stride. She heard the boys shouting behind her, but none of them managed to catch her. She made it to the end of the path before stopping beside the wall of the old gym. For several seconds, she could do nothing but breathe. Her hands shook. One palm was scraped raw, and her right knuckles were already swelling. She pressed a hand against her cheek, then hissed when the movement sent pain through her jaw. She was still holding her bag. Her laptop was safe. Her papers were safe. Her money was still there. That was what mattered. Nora straightened slowly, fighting the urge to sit down before her knee gave out completely. "Anyone else?" she called, trying to sound steadier than she felt. Nobody answered. The five boys were still behind her, cursing and groaning, none of them eager to follow. At the far end of the path, a black sedan sat at the curb with its engine running. Tinted windows. No driver in sight. Nora frowned. It had been there the whole time, close enough to see everything. Close enough to watch her struggle on the ground while a knife came dangerously close to her face. Yet it hadn't moved. Nobody had gotten out to help. A chill crept down her spine that had nothing to do with the wind. Her phone rang. She flinched, almost dropping it before she managed to pull it from her pocket. The sedan pulled away. She watched it disappear around the corner, then looked at her screen and winced. The landlord. "Where are you?" His voice was sharp. "I said noon for the key handoff. It is now eleven fifty-eight." Nora glanced at her trembling hands and the blood smeared across her knuckles.getting attacked wasn't a good enough reason for the day to go wrong. "I'm almost there."she replied. "Fifty-eight seconds."the landlord yelled. "I'm running!" She ended the call and shoved the phone into her pocket. Then she took a step forward. Pain shot through her knee, and she had to grab the wall to keep herself upright. For one brief moment, she closed her eyes. She couldn't afford a hospital bill. She couldn't afford to lose her belongings. And she certainly couldn't afford to lose the apartment she'd spent weeks trying to secure. So she swallowed the pain, adjusted her bag, and started moving again. She wasn't going to let five idiots ruin the only chance she had at making it through the semester. The landlord waited outside the building, checking his watch. He was a thin man with a nervous expression who kept glancing at a black sedan parked across the street beneath a dead streetlight. Nora recognized it immediately. It was the same car that had watched her fight five boys behind the old gym. "You're late," he said. "I'm not. You said noon." He sighed and handed her the key without meeting her eyes. "Second door on the left. The lease is signed, and the room is yours. No surprises." "Thank you." She glanced at the sedan. "Is that car yours?" His expression tightened. "I don't know anything about cars. Go inside. Quickly." Nora frowned at his strange response, but her aching knee demanded more attention than his suspicious behavior. She dragged her suitcase into the building, determined to put the afternoon behind her. She had six months to survive, and she couldn't afford to let anything distract her from that goal. The first thing Nora learned about her new roommate was that he had no concept of personal space. The second was that he was completely shirtless. The third was that living with him might be more difficult than she'd anticipated. She stopped in the doorway, gripping her suitcase handle. The man in the kitchen turned toward her, revealing messy dark hair, broad shoulders, and gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. He was wrapping his left wrist with white athletic tape, holding the roll between his teeth as he worked. Black tattoos covered his muscular arms. For a moment, Nora forgot what she had come to say. His gaze traveled over her before settling on her face. A smirk formed at the corner of his mouth as he pulled the tape free. "Can I help you?" "I'm your new roommate." His smile disappeared. "Shit." Nora frowned. "What?" He secured the tape around his wrist and reached for a glass of water. "I was hoping you'd be ugly." Her mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" "Would've made things a lot easier." He took a sip of water, watching her without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

Nora stared at him, waiting for an explanation or an apology. Neither came. That was how she met Liam Carter, the college hockey captain whose jersey numbers half the girls on campus wore with pride. He was also the man she would be sharing an apartment with for the next six months. She considered turning around, dragging her suitcase downstairs, and demanding an explanation from the landlord. Instead, she stepped inside and shut the door. Her financial aid grant had been cut in July, and the dorm waitlist was months long. This apartment cost three hundred and fifty dollars less than anything else near campus. She couldn't afford to be picky. Six months. No drama. No getting kicked out. That was the plan. The apartment looked better than the pictures had suggested. A gray couch faced a television mounted on the wall, while hockey magazines and a loose skate lace cluttered the coffee table. A large black gear bag sat beside the entrance, carrying the unmistakable smell of ice, old tape, and IcyHot. A hockey stick leaned against the corner, its blade wrapped in fresh tape. "Where's my room?" Nora asked. Liam pointed down the hallway with his taped wrist. "Second door on the left." "No tour? Nothing?" "You've already seen the important part." She glanced around the kitchen. "You mean this place?" He looked down at his bare chest before meeting her eyes again. "No." Heat crept into her cheeks. "I wasn't looking at you." "Sure."he replied "I really wasn't." "Whatever helps you sleep at night, roommate."he said with a smirk. Nora rolled her eyes, grabbed her suitcase, and headed down the hall. Liam's laughter followed her, low and warm. It was an annoyingly nice laugh. She hated that she'd noticed. Her bedroom was larger than she'd expected, with a queen bed, a desk beneath the window, and a dresser topped with a mirror. The fresh paint still carried a faint chemical smell. She lowered herself onto the mattress, wincing when her injured knee protested. Nora Shaw. Junior. Athletic training major. One bad semester away from losing the remainder of her scholarship. She had survived worse than an arrogant roommate. She could survive Liam Carter, too. Her phone buzzed. Maya: Did you make it? Tell me everything. Nora called her, and Maya answered almost immediately. "So, how's the apartment?" Maya asked. "Fine. The paint is still wet." "And the roommate?" Nora glanced toward her open bedroom door. "He's here." "Is he cute?" Maya asked. "You haven't even asked his name," Nora replied. "I don't care about his name. Is he cute?" "He was wrapping his wrist in the kitchen when I walked in. Maya, he was shirtless." Maya screamed. "You're living with a shirtless guy?" "Keep your voice down!" Nora hissed. "He was wearing sweatpants, and he had tape in his mouth." "That doesn't make it any better!" Nora rubbed her forehead, careful not to touch the bruise on her cheek. "His name is Liam Carter." Silence fell over the line. "Liam Carter?" Maya repeated, her voice changing. "The Liam Carter? Girl, he's campus royalty!" "He's an arrogant jerk," Nora said. "That doesn't mean he's ugly." "I never said he was ugly. I said he was arrogant." "Interesting," Maya replied. "Stop saying interesting." Maya laughed. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid, especially with him." "I signed a lease, Maya, not a death wish. I'm here to study and keep my scholarship." "Good. Keep it that way." Hearing footsteps in the hallway, Nora glanced toward her open door. "I'll call you later," she said before ending the call. Liam appeared in her doorway, leaning against the frame. He had changed into a plain black T-shirt, which did little to make him less distracting. "Boyfriend?" he asked. "No," Nora replied. "Good." She frowned. "Why does that matter?" He shrugged. "A boyfriend would make living together complicated." "Don't worry. You won't have to deal with my love life." "Good to know." Liam held up a finger. "We have one bathroom. I shower early, so use it before seven if you don't want to wait. Practice runs late, and we play games on weekends. If you hear me in the kitchen at midnight, don't assume I'm being inconsiderate. I'll probably be hungry." "Okay," Nora replied. Liam tilted his head. "Do you know any other words?" "Do you have any other personality traits?" she countered. His eyebrows rose before a slow smile spread across his face. "So you do have a sense of humor." "I wasn't joking." "That makes it even better." "Are there any rules?" Nora asked. "Rules for what?" "Living together. Clean up after yourself, warn me before bringing people over, and don't touch my belongings." "That's a lot of rules," Liam remarked. "It's three." "Still a lot." Nora sighed. "And we respect each other's privacy." His knowing smile returned. "Of course." Something about the way he said it made the back of her neck warm. "What?" she asked. "Nothing." "Liam." "I said nothing, Shaw." He pushed away from the doorframe and walked down the hallway. Nora watched him leave before shaking her head. Six months. All she had to do was survive six months with him. By eight that evening, Nora had unpacked her belongings and arranged her books on the desk. The apartment had remained quiet, and she was beginning to think living with Liam might be manageable. Then the front door burst open, and loud voices filled the kitchen. Three guys wearing team jackets gathered around the island. A tall blond with a friendly grin noticed Nora first. "Whoa," he exclaimed. Liam, who had been searching through the pantry, stopped what he was doing. When he turned and spotted Nora, the relaxed expression on his face disappeared. "This is my new roommate, Nora," he said. All three men stared at her, making Nora regret leaving her bedroom. The blond grinned. "You forgot to mention that your roommate was cute, Carter." Liam's jaw tightened. "Go home, Jake." "Why? I'm just saying hello." The man standing beside Jake nodded politely at Nora. "I'm Ryan." "Nice to meet you," Nora replied. "She moved in today," Liam said, directing his attention toward his teammates. "Leave her alone." Jake raised both hands. "All right. I'm only being friendly." He headed toward the door, bumping Liam's shoulder as he passed. "Six a.m. practice," Jake reminded him. "Don't be late. Coach is already angry about your wrist." "I won't be late," Liam assured him. The door clicked shut behind them, and their voices faded as they descended the stairs. Nora turned toward Liam. "You're definitely nicer to your friends." "I'm not nice to you?" he asked. "No. Not particularly." Liam chuckled. "That's too bad." Nora headed into the kitchen for water and opened the refrigerator. An entire shelf held identical green sports drinks arranged in neat rows. Beside them sat several containers of plain chicken and rice. She stared at the drinks. "Why do you have six bottles of the same thing?" "Because I like them," Liam replied. "You've taken over an entire shelf." "It's called organization."he replied "It's called an obsession." Liam grinned. "You're learning fast." Nora grabbed a bottle of water, closed the refrigerator, and turned around. Liam stood directly behind her. They were barely a step apart. His teasing expression faded as his gaze moved over her face and settled on the bruise darkening her cheek. His eyes dropped to her injured knee before stopping at her right hand, which gripped the water bottle. Her knuckles were swollen, and the skin across them had split. "Those injuries aren't from unpacking," he observed quietly. "I'm clumsy," Nora replied. "You're many things, Shaw, but clumsy isn't one of them." She looked away without answering and said "We just met carter" "How many?" he asked completely ignoring what she said. Nora glanced at him, surprised by the question. He hadn't asked who had hurt her or what had happened. He wanted to know how many people had been involved. "Five," she admitted before she could stop herself. Something dark flickered in his expression before disappearing. Liam opened the refrigerator, retrieved a gel ice pack from the door, and placed it in her palm. "Did they take your bag?" he asked. "No." "Good." His fingers lingered against hers for a moment before he released the ice pack. "Next time someone puts their hands on you, call me." Nora raised an eyebrow. "I don't have your number." "Give me your phone." She hesitated before handing it to him. Liam entered his number, saved the contact, and returned the phone. "Now you do." Their fingers brushed as she took it from him. "Thanks," Nora said quietly. She stepped away and headed toward the hallway. "Goodnight, Liam." He remained by the refrigerator, watching her leave. "Goodnight, Nora," he replied. Nora couldn't sleep. At midnight, she abandoned her attempt to rest and walked to the window. Her bedroom overlooked the street, where a black sedan sat beneath the dead streetlight with its engine switched off. It was the same car. An orange glow appeared inside the vehicle before fading. Someone was smoking. Then the figure behind the windshield turned toward her window. Nora stepped back from the glass. "Close the curtain," Liam ordered. She spun around. He stood in her doorway with one hand resting against the frame. His expression was unusually serious, and the light from the hallway cast shadows across his face. "How long has that car been there?" she asked. "Close the curtain, Nora." It was the first time he had said her name as though it were an order. Uneasy, she pulled the curtain shut. "Do you know who's inside?" she asked. "Go to sleep." "Liam-" "Lock your door," he interrupted. He left before she could ask another question. Nora listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. A moment later, she heard a click from the front door. She counted each sound in the darkness. Three locks on the front door of a hockey player's apartment. Nora stood motionless beside her bed, wondering what kind of person needed that much protection. Six months, she reminded herself. No drama. That had been the plan. Now, she wasn't sure how she would survive the first night. At 3:12 a.m., Nora was still awake when she heard the front door open. It wasn't a slam. Instead, she heard three slow clicks as the locks turned back one by one, followed by the soft scrape of someone trying to be quiet. She slid out of bed, wincing when her injured knee protested. After opening her bedroom door a crack, she peered down the hall. Liam stood in the dark living room wearing a black suit. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked older like that, sharper and more intimidating. He looked like someone she would cross the street to avoid. Then he noticed her, and the stranger disappeared behind a smirk that came a fraction of a second too late. "Shaw. Can't sleep?" Liam asked. "It's three in the morning," Nora replied. "I know. I live here." "Where were you?" "Team banquet." Nora glanced at his suit. "In a suit?" "It was fancy," he said. "At three in the morning?" "They run long." She stepped into the living room, studying him. Liam remained still, but she noticed his right hand slip behind his back. "Show me your hand," she demanded. "No."he replied looking unbothered "Liam." "Go back to bed, Nora," he said firmly.

At 3:12 a.m., Nora was still awake when she heard the front door open. It wasn't a slam. Instead, she heard three slow clicks as the locks turned back one by one, followed by the soft scrape of someone trying to be quiet. She slid out of bed, wincing when her injured knee protested. After opening her bedroom door a crack, she peered down the hall. Liam stood in the dark living room wearing a black suit. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked older like that, sharper and more intimidating. He looked like someone she would cross the street to avoid. Then he noticed her, and the stranger disappeared behind a smirk that came a fraction of a second too late. "Shaw. Can't sleep?" Liam asked. "It's three in the morning," Nora replied. "I know. I live here." "Where were you?" "Team banquet." Nora glanced at his suit. "In a suit?" "It was fancy," he said. "At three in the morning?" "They run long." She ignored him and looked at his sleeve. A dark stain spread across the white cuff, its edges stiff and dried. "That's blood," she said. "It's wine," Liam replied. "I grew up in places where people got hurt at night." She kept her voice steady. "I know what blood looks like on dark cotton. I also know what it looks like when someone is trying to hide it." For a moment, neither of them spoke. A car passed outside, its headlights sweeping across the ceiling before disappearing. Nora looked at him. "Is it yours?" "No." The single word was worse than a lie. Liam slowly brought his hand out from behind his back. His knuckles were split open, the skin raw and red. He stared at her as though daring her to ask another question. She wanted to. Every instinct told her to demand answers, to find out where he had been and what had happened. But Liam's expression stopped her. "Please," he said quietly. "Go to bed." It was the please that changed everything. Nora turned without another word, walked back to her bedroom, and closed the door behind her. By 6:47 a.m., Nora had decided that living with Liam Carter was a terrible idea. She grabbed her towel and stepped into the hallway, exhausted from a sleepless night, only to freeze when she heard the shower running. Steam seeped from beneath the bathroom door. She checked her phone to make sure she hadn't misread the time. 6:47 a.m. "You have got to be kidding me." She banged on the door. "Liam!" The water stopped, and his deep morning voice came through the door. "Yeah?" "You said you showered before seven!" "It's before seven." "Barely!" "That counts." Nora leaned her forehead against the wall. "Some of us have classes to get to." "So do I. Give me two minutes, Shaw," he replied. She stalked into the kitchen before she lost her temper. As she stared at the coffee machine, she made a promise to herself. Rule #1: Don't fall for Liam Carter. Not the roommate. Not the hockey captain. Not the guy who walked around half-dressed. And definitely not the guy who came home at three in the morning with blood on his cuff. She added a second rule because she was tired, annoyed, and determined to keep her life uncomplicated. Rule #2: Mind your own business. That rule lasted until Liam walked out of the bathroom. He wore black athletic shorts and a gray hockey shirt. His hair was still damp, and fresh tape covered his injured wrist. He looked perfectly rested, as though he hadn't been awake half the night. It was infuriating. "Sleep well?" he asked. "Like a baby," Nora replied. "Liar." "Look who's talking." Something flickered across his face, but he said nothing. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down as though nothing had happened during the night. Nora opened her laptop and tried to ignore him. Liam grabbed a banana and peeled it with one hand, pretending his left wrist wasn't twice its normal size. "You're staring," he remarked. "I'm looking at your wrist." "Are you studying me now?" "I'm studying athletic training." "Same thing." "It isn't." She watched him press his thumb against the banana peel and noticed how badly the joint had swollen. Unable to ignore it any longer, she closed her laptop and held out her hand. "Let me see." "No," Liam replied. "Why not?" "Because you'll tell me to sit out practice." "I didn't say that." "You were thinking it." "Liam, give me your arm," she insisted. He studied her open palm as though it were a trap. Then he looked at her face and seemed to realize she wasn't going to let the matter go. With a slow sigh, he placed his forearm on the table. Nora turned his hand over. His skin was warm, and the tape had been wrapped too tightly near his palm without providing adequate support for the injured joint. She carefully unwound it, keeping her eyes on the task as Liam went completely still. When she removed the last strip, the bruising was worse than she had expected. Deep purple discoloration spread from the joint toward his thumb. "What happened?" she asked. "I blocked a shot," he answered. "With your bare wrist?" "With whatever was closest." "That's not how you block a shot." "It is when the other team is about to score." Nora looked up at him, expecting a smirk. He wasn't smiling. She forced herself to look back at his wrist, but her attention shifted to his right hand resting beside the banana peel. The split knuckles had been cleaned and covered with two small bandages. "And those?" she asked. "A door," Liam replied. "Which door?" "A stubborn one." Nora almost smiled. She hated that she almost did. She stood, retrieved the gel ice pack from the freezer, and handed it to him. His fingers closed around hers, and for a moment, neither of them let go. She pulled her hand away first. "Twenty minutes," she instructed. "And don't push yourself during drills." "Yes, ma'am," Liam replied. "Are you always this bad at following directions?" "Only the ones I don't like." Nora grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Good luck with that attitude." "Nora." She stopped at the door and turned around. Liam sat at the table with the ice pack pressed against his wrist, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "Good luck in class," he said quietly. His voice held none of its usual teasing. He sounded sincere, and that caught her off guard. "Thanks," she mumbled. Then she escaped before he could say anything else. By 10:30 a.m., Nora was sitting in her athletic training seminar with her notebook open and her mind somewhere else. This class was critical to her future. She needed every clinical hour and signature to maintain her reduced scholarship. One mistake could put everything she had worked for at risk. Professor Collins stood at the front of the classroom. "This week, each of you will be assigned to one of the university's sports programs," she announced. "You'll assist with injury prevention, therapy, and game-day support." Nora wrote down the instructions, waiting to hear which team she would be assigned to. "The hockey program needs extra help this season," Professor Collins continued. "Their schedule is packed, and several players are managing injuries." Nora's pen stopped moving. Please don't say it. "Nora Shaw," Professor Collins called. "You'll report to the hockey team." Several classmates turned to look at her. Professor Collins offered her an encouraging smile. "Rink training room. Three o'clock sharp." Nora forced a smile. "Great." She had moved in with Liam Carter because she couldn't afford the rent anywhere else. Now the university was sending her to his rink every afternoon. As far as Rule #1 was concerned, things couldn't have gone much worse. The rink was loud and freezing. Pucks cracked against the glass, skate blades scraped across the ice, and someone shouted instructions about a line change. The head trainer handed Nora a clipboard as she entered the training area. "You'll be helping with basic treatments and muscle recovery," he explained. "If a player seems more injured than he admits, document it immediately. Don't let anyone talk you out of recording what you observe." "Got it," Nora replied. As she walked toward the training room, a bronze plaque mounted beside the door caught her attention. It was polished to a shine, its lettering clearly visible. THE CARTER FAMILY ICE CENTER A gift of the Carter Foundation. Nora read it twice. Then Liam walked in, already wearing one skate while tying the other. He glanced at her and grinned. "What a coincidence," he said. "I'm here for my class placement," Nora reminded him. "I know. Collins emailed the staff this morning." Of course he knew. Nora nodded toward the plaque. "Carter. Is that a coincidence, too?" Liam barely glanced at it. "Common name." "Sure it is," Jake remarked from behind her. He leaned against the doorframe with a gear bag slung over his shoulder and a grin that suggested he knew more than he was saying. "Real common," Jake added. "Especially in this building." "Jake," Liam warned. "What?" Jake asked innocently. "I'm agreeing with you." The head trainer called out from his desk without looking up. "She's an athletic training student, Carter. Behave yourself." Liam stood, picked up his hockey stick, and tapped Nora's clipboard twice with his fingers. "Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," he replied. Then he headed onto the ice. Nora watched him go, reminding herself that she was there to work. Nothing more. But the moment Liam joined the team, something about him changed. His lazy smirk disappeared, replaced by a sharp focus she hadn't seen in the apartment. He took a hard pass without looking and moved through the drill with the confidence of someone who belonged on the ice. When a defenseman approached from his left, Liam twisted sharply to protect his taped wrist. Nora lowered her gaze to the clipboard and recorded the movement. It was her job to observe the players and document anything that might affect their performance or put them at risk. So why did watching Liam feel so personal? When practice ended, the training room filled with exhausted players. As Nora stacked the foam rollers, Jake approached her. "A few of us are grabbing dinner on Thursday. You should come," he offered. Before Nora could answer, Liam appeared in the doorway, his helmet in one hand and sweat dripping from his hair. "Coach is looking for you," he told Jake. Jake glanced at the empty hallway. "Sure he is." "Go," Liam said flatly. Shaking his head with a grin, Jake waved at Nora and left. She turned to Liam. "You could have just admitted you wanted to talk to me." "I didn't." "Then why did you send him away?" Liam stepped closer. "Because you just got here, and I don't want the team making your life difficult." "That's not your decision." "I know." His dark eyes held hers. "I'll try to remember that." Nora turned to leave, but he called after her. "Don't forget the rules, Shaw." She glanced back. "Which ones?" "Yours." She shook her head, hiding a smile as she walked out. The apartment was dark when Nora returned. Outside her bedroom door sat a blue gel ice pack with a handwritten note taped to it. For your head. You look like you need it after dealing with me all day. A smile crept across her face as she turned the note over. The writing on the back was smaller, the words pressed hard into the paper. Whatever you saw last night, you didn't see it. Please. Nora read it three times before folding the note and slipping it into her pocket.