Page 41 of Rookie Rules

"Good route on Mercer's goal," he said.

No camera. No team-wide lesson. Just the truth placed between them.

Luca's hands stopped on one lace.

"You sound surprised."

"I am capable of recognizing improvement."

"Careful. People will expect warmth."

Rowan zipped the bag. "You held the lane when you knew you weren't getting the puck."

"I can be selfless twice a month."

"You understood the play."

The teasing answer did not arrive.

Last night returned instead: a pillow on a desk, rain in the dark, Rowan's fingers tapping his ankle as though gratitude needed another language.

Luca looked up.

Rowan was already standing.

"That all?" Luca asked.

Rowan's gaze met his. "It was good."

Then he walked toward the service corridor leading away from the locker room.

Genuine praise should have been enough.

It was not.

For three seconds he stayed seated.

Following Rowan would convert private knowledge into a request. Luca could let the praise remain what it was: specific, sincere, safe. He could board the bus, make Finn share his food, and carry the ankle tap as proof that Rowan had been grateful in the only language he trusted.

Then Rowan disappeared around the corner.

The absence made the decision for him only because Luca allowed it to.

Luca finished the knot, stood, and followed.

The corridor curved beneath the visiting stands. Concrete walls held the distant vibration of fans leaving above them. Equipment cases lined one side. At the far end, Rowan stopped beside an alcove marked for arena staff and looked back.

"You lost?"

"You keep asking questions you know the answer to."

Rowan's face closed by degrees. "Go back to the room."

"Why?"

"Because the bus leaves in twenty."

"Not what I asked."