From across the room, Kowalski says, “Room knows.”
Lex, still half in his pads, adds, “Bring her to dinner.”
Four words from Lex. Practically a speech.
The room goes quiet in a way that is not pressure.
It is permission.
I look around at the men I thought I had to protect from every messy part of my life.
They already know.
They are still here.
Jennifer catches me outside the media room. “They want a statement.”
“Family emergency. We move forward.”
“They are going to ask about Peyton.”
“Then you tell them my personal life is not a media availability.”
Jennifer’s brows lift. “That is new.”
“I am evolving.”
“Try not to do it on camera without warning me.”
The smile gets loose for a second.
The concourse is mostly empty when I find Peyton by the railing, looking down at the Zamboni smoothing the ice. The cap is back. Her arms are crossed against the chill.
“You okay?” she asks.
“We won.”
“I noticed.”
“That was not an answer.”
“Neither was yours.”
There she is.
The corner of my mouth moves. “I almost called Evan off.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“That seems important.”
“It was.”
“You also made the play on the winning goal.”
“I touched the puck for half a second.”
