Finn's not chirping. Sawyer's got that thousand-yard goalie stare, but his eyes are set. Travis cracks his knuckles, slowly, nodding along. Max is practically vibrating in his stall. Spencer's stopped fixing his hair in the mirror.
And Corbin, the goddamn rookie who can't sit still through a single meeting, is suddenly dead silent.
The rumble outside swells louder.
"They're not here for the beach anymore," Coach finishes, voice dropping low. "They're here foryou. Don't waste it."
Beck lets out a whoop, and just like that the room erupts with sticks pounding on the floor, guys roaring, the energy snapping through every one of us like a Stanley Cup final.
I pull my jersey over my head and catch my reflection in the polished walls of my stall.
Captain.
For the first time in a long time, the word doesn't feel like a weight.
It feels like a job I actually want to do.
Because nobody in this room knows what I know.
Nobody in this room knows the truth.
That when I was twelve I saw my father slip out of a car that wasn't ours. I stood there at a community rink, watching his wedding ring glint in the light while he was kissing a woman who wasn't my mother.
He came home to tell us he'd been working overtime. Mom bought his lies, even when I told her what I saw.
It wasn't the first time.
I learned that fast. And I'm sure as hell there have been many more since.
And aside from the one woman whoshouldcare the most, I've never told a soul.
Not Zoey. Not Mason. Definitely not Beck.
I justcarriedit.
I folded it down, and made a decision.
Hockey was my out. My brothers' out. A way to drag all of us far enough from that house that the rot couldn't follow.
Zoey saved herself. Good.
But these guys behind me? Beck's whoop, Mason's excitement?
They're mine now.
"Let's go, boys," I announce, slapping the helmets of my brothers. "We've got a game to win."
We file into the tunnel, single file, skates clacking against the rubber, and the noise from the arena gets louder with every step. The painted gold letters loom above us:THEY CAME FOR THE BEACH. WE STAYED FOR THE FIGHT.
I lead them out.
And the second I hit the ice, the worldexplodes.
Light and color and sound. A fuckingwallof it, slamming into me all at once. The bowl is packed to the rafters, a sea of blue and gold, so many seats filled.
There are signs waving, foam fingers being thrust into the air by screaming kids. The jumbotron blazes overhead, and a recorded bear roar shakes the building so hard I feel the ice shake beneath my skates.
I look around, slow, taking it all in.
