She interviews Liam after.
I’m running cooldown when I see it — her recorder out, notebook open, asking him something that makes him actually turn toward her and answer instead of giving the profile. Whatever she asked landed. Liam doesn’t turn toward people unless they’ve earned something.
She’s earned things here.
I think about that while I run my skates.
My phone buzzes.
Nova:
Your captain is terrifying.
Me:
He has his moments.
Nova:
That’s the understatement of the Conference Final. He looked at me like he was reading my soul and filing it.
Me:
He does that. Don’t take it personally.
Nova:
Does he do it to you?
Me:
First season. Figured out real quick it was easier to just let him.
Nova:
Smart man.
Me:
Occasionally.
I put the phone in my pocket and go back to my cooldown and I’m aware — in the specific way I’m always aware of things I don’t examine directly — that this is the easiest conversation I’ve had all day. Maybe all week.
Aurora comes over.
She brings food — something Katarina probably approved, something that smells like actual cooking — and she holds Brick, who allows it like he’s straight royalty. She doesn’t ask about the photo. Doesn’t mention the Enforcers — she doesn’t know about the Enforcers. Nobody knows about the Enforcers.
She talks about the baby. About Aiden’s pre-playoff rituals that she refuses to describe specifically but that apparently involve a specific playlist and a very particular breakfast. About Canyon Bay and the businesses with Cyclones banners in the windows and the kids in jerseys she sees on her morning walks.
“Remember Year 1,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“The crowd noise in that first home game.”
“Four thousand people.”
“Brody cried.”
