Page 126 of Empty Net
I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Your ice now," I say.
His face crumples for half a second before he muscles it back into place.
"Don't do that," I say.
"What?"
"Make it private later if you need to. Not because I taught you to. Because you get to choose where it goes."
He nods. This time he does cry. Just once. Right there in the noise. I am proud of him in a way I have no idea what to do with.
"Good," I say.
He laughs wetly. "That's it?"
"You want a parade?"
"We just won a playoff series."
"Then use that one."
The locker room after is chaos. Champagne for the series win, not the Cup, because hockey players will celebrate anything that lets them spray liquid on each other while pretending it is tradition. Jonah gives a speech no one asked for. Luca puts a biscotti in my hand before I can sit down. Wes hugs me hard enough to make my spine reconsider its options.
I shower last.
Dress slow.
By the time I leave the room, the hallway is quieter.
Caleb is there.
Not in the suite. Not behind glass. In the hallway. Tie loose. Glasses slightly crooked. Holding two coffees from the good machine by the equipment room.
The glass is gone.
"You won," he says.
"They won."
"You won."
I let him have it.
"Surgery in May," I say.
"I know."
"Recovery through summer."
"I know."
"I don't know what comes after."
"Neither do I."
The answer should scare me.
