Page 192 of On His Team

She steps toward me automatically, then seems to remember where we are. The hallway is crowded with players, parents, staff, and people waiting for whoever they came to see. Benson isn’t far away, and there’s nowhere private enough for either of us to pretend we’re alone.

Gianna looks around once and settles for grabbing the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m proud of you.”

The words hit harder than I expect. I know she means them because Gianna never really knows how to say anything halfway.

“Thanks.”

She nods. “Like, really proud.”

“I know.”

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t ruin it.”

I smile. “How was the rest of the clinic?”

That changes her immediately. She brightens all over again and starts talking faster. “It worked. No, I mean it really worked. Parents asked Lisa if we’re doing another one, and Ives stayed almost the whole time without criticizing anything while she was there, which I think counts as praise.”

I laugh. “Probably.”

“One kid threw up.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“Not on the ice.”

“Big win.”

“Yep.” Then she launches into the whole thing again: the group photo, the oversized jerseys, Bryce’s mother asking twice if he could have a different color, the figure skates, the parent questions, and the fact that she apparently spent half the morning being summoned from opposite ends of the building.

I already know some of it. She told me parts through text, and I was there for enough of the rest to understand how the day went.

I let her tell me anyway.

Gianna repeats herself when she’s excited. She circles back to details she already mentioned because she remembers something else about them halfway through. She gets louder when something was funny and quieter when something mattered more than she expected it to.

I like listening to her do it.

Benson comes over while she’s explaining how long it took to get forty-eight kids lined up for the picture. He slips an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side.

“I heard.”

Gianna looks up at him. “Heard what?”

“Mom called.”

Her expression immediately changes. “Why did Mom call you?”

Benson nods in my direction. “Because Rowan sent pictures.”

Gianna turns toward me. “You sent my mom pictures?”

“Benson asked.”

That softens her face in a way I’m getting better at recognizing. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but I can tell it matters.

Benson glances between us for a second before looking back at his sister. “She cried.”

Gianna groans and drops her forehead against his shoulder. “Oh my God.”