Page 142 of The Grumpy Defenseman
Sandra: Finally. Something usable.
Sandra: Also, good shot.
From Sandra, that was practically a sonnet.
I found Evan outside the locker room twenty minutes later.
He had changed into his suit pants and a white dress shirt, tie hanging loose around his neck. His hair was damp. There was a red mark blooming along his ribs where the blocked shot had found him, because of course there was.
I looked at it.
He looked at me looking.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“That answer remains embarrassing.”
Hismouth moved.
The almost-smile.
Still endangered. Still my favorite.
Behind him, the hallway was chaos. Players moving past. Staff with clipboards. Someone was shouting about media availability. Tommy darted through the crowd and launched himself into Evan’s legs with the confidence of a child who knew every adult in his life would rearrange themselves to catch him.
Evan caught him.
Lena appeared two seconds later, not even pretending she had tried very hard to stop him.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No, you’re not,” Evan said.
“No,” Lena agreed. “I’m not.”
Kathleen came more slowly behind them, one hand over her heart like the game had personally aged her, which it probably had.
“You blocked that with your ribs,” she said.
“Side,” Evan said.
“I am a nurse. Do not lie to me about anatomy.”
Bella arrived with two plastic cups of champagne she had absolutely not been authorized to have in that hallway.
“I brought hydration,” she announced.
Sierra followed with Mack, who looked amused and resigned in equal measure.
“That is not hydration,” Mack said.
“You are not my legal supervisor.”
“No one is,” Sierra said.
Ranger was not there, because even the Stampede had limits, but Tommy had brought a drawing of him wearing a headset and labeled it ASSISTANT COACH RANGER. Sully, passing by at exactly the wrong time, saw it, paused, and said, “Still better than Brick on the power play.”
Brick, ten feet away, yelled, “I HEARD THAT.”
