Page 172 of On His Team

I nod back.

Later, after the room clears out and I’m helping with the last of the equipment, my phone buzzes.

Rowan: You still here?

I look toward the hallway.

Me: Equipment room.

Two minutes later, he appears. His hair’s damp under his hoodie. He steps inside without looking around to see who’s here.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, looking defeated.

I wait for him to walk over. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He leans against the counter. “You?”

I laugh once. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Tomorrow.”

Right. Tomorrow. My stomach tightens. “I’m fine.”

He looks at me. “G. I know better.”

“I’m fine,” I argue. “I’m not lying.”

“You reorganized those name tags three times.”

My mouth opens. “How do you know that?”

“Cole.”

“Cole is dead to me.”

Rowan smiles.

I rub both hands over my face. “I’m nervous.”

“You have forty-eight kids coming tomorrow because you made something people wanted to come to.”

I go quiet.

Rowan continues before I can interrupt. “You figured out the rink. The volunteers. The equipment. The waivers. The schedule. You found three helmets. You have eight people helping you. You know what time everybody gets there.”

I stare at him.

He shrugs. “So tomorrow you do what you already planned.”

“That was actually pretty good.” I laugh.

He smiles.

I walk around the counter and stop in front of him. “You’re good at this.”

“What?”