My jaw doesn't move.
“Okay, Coach.”
He looks up. His eyes are bad. “You think this is funny.”
“No, Coach.”
He sets the stat sheet down too carefully.
“You think I don't know what you're doing?”
I don't answer that.
“Get out of my office.”
I get out. Quiet. Controlled. I don't slam the door. I close it like a man closing a door he plans to come back through.
The locker room is still loud when I pass it. Phoenix is standing in the doorway with a towel around his neck watching for me. I catch his eye and he reads my face in a second flat.
“He yelled?”
“In his way.”
Phoenix adjusts the towel.
“About?”
“Guess.”
Phoenix's jaw does the thing.
“Tonight's the night, huh?”
“Looks like it.”
He exhales, long and slow.
“Creed.”
“Yeah.”
His hand lands on my shoulder pad, grips once.
“Be smart.”
“Always.”
He snorts. It's almost a laugh. Phoenix Reyes knows I'm many things and smart-under-pressure is exactly one of them.
Theo comes out of the room behind Phoenix in his base layers and his undershirt damp and his skates off and his stockinged feet slipping on the tile. He sees my face. He stops.
“What?” he says.
I keep my face blank for the guys still in the room.
“Not here.”
“Is it bad?”
