Everything in its place.
Everythingwaitingfor him.
I let go of his hand and step closer to the jersey.
"So… Hockey Boy. This is where you sit."
"Every game. Same spot. Since I got here."
I turn slowly to face him. He's closer than I realized.
"You miss it, don't you?" I ask softly. "Being out there?"
His throat bobs.
"Yeah… so much, Zo." His voice cracks just enough that it lands somewhere deep in my chest. "Somuch."
I sit down on the bench in front of his stall. "Tell me about it."
My hand drifts up before I can stop it, settling on his forearm. His muscles tense under my palm before slowly relaxing.
"This place… it's the only thing I've ever been good at."
He exhales, long and slow, and leans his shoulder against the stall beside me.
There's no bitterness in his voice. Just honesty.
"My parents put me in skates at four years old. I had private coaches before I could read. They pulled me out of school for travel teams, and I never had sleepovers. No birthday parties. Just ice and drills and'one more rep, kid, you've almost got it.'"
His hand finds mine on his forearm as he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
"My whole life, the deal was… if I performed well, the house was happy. If I played shit, the house was quiet. So I just… I had to keep performing, you know. To keep everyone happy, I had to be the best."
I squeeze his arm gently. "Colt…"
"I didn't think much of it… because there was always supposed to be areward. Big game meant we got to go to Disney. Make the travel team and we'll have a real Christmas. Score a hat trick and Dad will actually take you fishing." He laughs, but it's hollow. "None of it ever happened. Not once. But I kept showing up because every time I did, they showed upforit. That was the closest I ever got to being loved."
My eyes are stinging and I don't even try to stop it.
"And when Gabe hit me?" He shakes his head, staring at the floor. "I woke up in that hospital and I couldn't move for a second, and the first thing I thought was,'If I can't play, they won't even speak to me.'Not 'am I okay.' Not 'is my brain okay.' Just…will anyone want me anymore."
My fingers tighten around his arm, gripping his jacket so hard I can feel the way he's holding himself… like he's bracing for me to pull away from him the way everyone else apparently has.
But then, his eyes lift to mine.
"And then there wasyou.You came." His voice is rough now. "And you sat there, in that chair beside my bed, and you looked at me like I was just… a normal guy. Not a hockey player. Not a brand or a goddamnasset."
His thumb strokes across my knuckles.
"To you, I was just Colt."
My heartcracks.
It cracks wide open, right there in his stupid empty locker room, with a man I barely know telling me the only true thing he's probably ever told anyone.
And because I've had way too much emotion to handle tonight…
I don't think.
