Page 61 of Thin Ice

"He was going to talk to you," I said.

"After the Final. He insisted we wait." Elias's hands hung loosely at his sides. "He asked me one personal question in two calls. He wanted to know whether Ray Halloran suffered."

I reached for the back of the recliner.

Hawkins. Halloran. Tierney. The body count was three, and I couldn't process it. Repeating the names to myself was like reading out-of-town scores. Whatever was going on, it wasn't something that happened a long time ago anymore. Tierney died yesterday.

"Does the league know?"

"Mac's briefing them from Seattle this morning."

"And there's nothing—" I stopped. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. A man died of the pills he'd been taking for ten years, and the world was going to nod and move on.

"I'm telling you everything now," Elias said. "You'll hear it as I get it. That's the new arrangement."

"Yes," I said.

I left Elias standing in the living room and went to the bedroom to get my bag. Game Six was in Boston and Game Seven would be back in St. Louis if it were necessary.

My bag was by the closet. I shouldered it and glanced around to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything.

The car was around back. We didn't speak on the way down in the elevator, and it felt like three ghosts were riding with us.

On the plane for Boston, nearly everyone was quiet. Nobody had to say what the game meant. A loss would end the season eleven hundred miles from home.

The coaches sat up front with their laptops, looking for an elusive gap they'd missed all along. Down the cabin, twenty guys either ran tape or stared blankly at seat backs.

I had Boston's penalty kill on my tablet and I watched the same twenty-five seconds four times before I realized I still hadn't seen it.

That didn't happen to me. For the past fourteen years, nothing distracted me. It didn't matter: money, contracts, or my father dying. I tucked it all away on game days, locking the box and depositing the key in my pocket.

Now I sat with a clip frozen on my tablet screen, and all I could see was a chair in a house holding a dead man while the TV ran.

The box was cracking.

Across the aisle from me, Jamie pulled an earbud out.

"Hey. Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow night when it's win or go home." He reached forward for his water bottle. "Does it feel different? In your body, I mean. Guys keep telling me to treat it like any game, and I keep nodding, but I figured you'd tell me the truth."

I put my tablet down.

"It feels different," I said. "Anybody who says it doesn't is lying to distract you. Your legs will be heavier in warmups and, your first shift will feel like it's happening without you, while you watch it from ten feet away. That's all normal. It will pass. By the second shift you'll just be playing hockey." I looked at him. "Don't spend tonight fighting what you feel. It's supposed to be like that."

Jamie nodded slowly. I'd seen him use the same nod after listening to the coaches.

"Thanks," he said, and put the earbud back.

***

Brick opened the door to his room in a t-shirt and track pants with his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder. That meant Jen had him helping her on the crossword again. He said, "I'll call you back, the captain of industry's here," and hung up without saying goodbye.

"Uh oh," he said, and stood aside.

Elias and I had said goodnight to each other without a hug or any kind of touch. He wouldn't care that I was wandering down the hall.