“No.”
She nods once and walks away, disappearing back toward the medical room.
And I’m left standing in the tunnel in a suit, watching my team warm up without me, wondering how I managed to fuck up both my career and whatever was starting with her in the span of a single week.
We lose 4-3 in overtime.
I watch from the press box while Marnie works the bench. Every time the camera finds her, she’s focused, professional, handling issues with calm efficiency. No one watching would know her mom is dying or that we complicated everything in a supply closet five days ago.
Edmonton
The hotel gym at midnight is supposed to be empty.
Instead, I find Marnie on the treadmill, running like something’s chasing her.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask.
She doesn’t slow down. “Mom had a bad night. Teresa called.”
“And you’re what, trying to outrun it?”
“I’m trying to exhaust myself enough to sleep.”
I get on the treadmill next to her and start walking. My shoulder protests slightly, but it’s manageable.
“You should be resting,” she says.
“So should you.”
We move in silence for a while. Her breathing is controlled but there’s tension in her shoulders, visible in the way she’s gripping the handrails too tight, the way her jaw is clenched.
“She didn’t recognize me yesterday,” Marnie says suddenly. “On FaceTime. She called me by my aunt’s name. My aunt’s been dead for ten years.”
“Moxie—”
“Don’t. Please. Just... let me run.”
So I do.
I walk while she runs, both of us pretending this is normal. Pretending we’re not in a hotel gym at midnight, her running from grief and me walking beside her because I don’t know what else to do.
When she finally stops, she’s shaking. Exercise or emotion, I can’t tell.
“October twenty-third,” she says, voice unsteady. “You’ll be back October twenty-third.”
She’s been repeating it like a mantra. Like if she fixes me, everything else will somehow fall into place.
She leaves without looking at me.
I stay on the treadmill for another hour. Not running from anything. Just walking. Thinking about how she sounded when she said her mom didn’t recognize her.
We lose to Edmonton 5-2.
It’s ugly. The team’s off, missing passes, taking bad penalties. Luca lets in two soft goals. I can’t help from the press box. Can’t lead from a distance. Can’t do anything except watch it fall apart.
Barrett’s post-game speech is about resilience and staying focused, but I see him looking at me.
Travel Day
