“You won it.”
“Yeah. I did,” Noah replied.
Neither of them said anything for another second. Above them, the rain came through the stadium, slanted, continuous.
Then Noah said, low enough that the cameras behind them would not pick it up, “There is a sauna at the west end of the stadium. Equipment staff locks it at midnight. It is unlockeduntil then. I will be there at eleven. Don’t get on the team charter tonight.”
Noah stepped back.
“Travel safe,” he said loudly.
Then he jogged off toward the Seattle tunnel. Piper stood at midfield in the rain, helmet under his arm.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Seattle
Piper walked out of the Four Seasons in downtown Seattle at ten-fifty and didn’t make the decision until he was in the Uber. The decision had been made somewhere else, with some part of Piper he didn’t have control over and he had stopped trying to negotiate with the other Piper.
The stadium had been a cathedral of pain three hours ago and now it was just a structure.
A side door under the west end of the building was propped with a folded towel and a Post-It note. The rain had stopped as Piper got out of the Uber.
The air was cold but smelled fresh. Piper pulled the door open as he grabbed the towel and stepped inside. The post-it stuck to his finger as he opened the door. He looked down,last time, I promise xx -N. Piper folded it and put it in his pocket.
The hallway lights were half-out.
He walked into the athletic trainer’s wing, down the corridor from the hydrotherapy room, past the cold plunge.
The sauna door was closed with the light on. Piper approached, and peeked into the small window on the door.
He stopped, Noah was smiling at him through the window.
He was sitting on the upper cedar bench in a white towel with his forearms on his knees and his body coated with sweat, every muscle glistening with perspiration.
He closed the door behind him. There was no lock. Noah looked at him. “Piper.”
“Noah.”
“I wasn’t sure you would come.”
“I wasn’t either. You beat my fucking ass today, but congrats on making the playoffs, it was always gonna be you,” Piper said as he took his hat off.
“Take the rest of it off,” Noah replied.
He pulled the hoodie over his head. He stepped out of the sweats. He looked at Noah while he was doing it, and Noah held his eyes. There was a folded towel on the lower bench and Piper wrapped it around his waist.
“This is fucking stupid,” Piper said.
“Yeah.”
“You know it’s stupid.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are we doing it then?”
Noah stood up.
“I don’t know. Ask me in ten minutes.”
