Page 195 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

The locker room feels exactly the same. The same rows of stalls. The same smell of leather, tape and sharpened steel.

Someone—almost certainly Liam—has added a handwritten sign above my locker.

WARNING

Captain attempting to skate.

Please keep emergency contact information readily available.

I shake my head. "He’s got entirely too much free time."

"I've been waiting weeks to hang that." Liam appears behind me with the satisfied grin of a man who considers himself a public servant.

"I actually toned it down."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"The first draft involved traffic cones."

"I believe that."

"So did Coach."

"What happened?"

"He confiscated the cones."

Toby walks past carrying two sticks. "I thought it was funny."

"You encouraged him?"

"I encouraged creativity."

I smile before I can stop myself. The room erupts in laughter. For the first time in months, it doesn't feel like they're trying to cheer me up. It simply feels like another morning with my teammates. Exactly the way it used to.

The equipment manager sets my helmet on the bench beside me.

I stare at it for a long moment. It's just a helmet. Navy blue.

Storm logo on each side. Captain's "C" on the front. I've put it on thousands of times.

Today my hands hesitate, not because I can't. Because I finally can. I pick it up slowly and turn it over once before settling it onto my head. The chin strap clicks into place with a sound I've heard my entire career. I've never realized how comforting it is.

Coach appears beside my stall. "Ready?"

I stand. "As I'll ever be."

He nods once. "No heroics."

"I know."

"No contact."

"I know."

"If I see you trying to prove something…"

"You'll make me skate suicides."