Page 318 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

***

When we step into the locker room, conversation quiets almost imperceptibly.

Not awkwardly. Expectantly. Every stall is occupied except mine. My jersey hangs neatly above it, waiting exactly where it always has.

Number 19.

Captain.

I set the coffee down and reach for the jersey.

For just a second, my fingers rest against the embroidered "C."

Months ago, that letter felt like something I had to carry alone. Today it feels different.

It reminds me of every person who helped carry me.

Coach.

The team.

My parents.

Annette.

I pull the jersey over my head and smooth the front instinctively.

It fits exactly the way it always has. Only now...I finally understand what it means.

Coach walks across the room and stops beside my stall.

He doesn't make a speech.

He doesn't have to.

He reaches out, straightens the collar with the quiet precision of a father adjusting a son's tie before a wedding, then steps back to look at me.

"There."

I smile. "There what?"

"Now you're ready."

Our eyes meet. For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

Finally, he nods once. "Welcome back, Captain."

The words land deeper than I expect. Not because they're about hockey. Because they're about trust. I nod back.

"It's good to be home."

***

The final minutes before warm-ups pass with the familiar rhythm every hockey player knows by heart.

Tape.

Stretch.