Page 109 of The Goalie in Room 1

“At Cash and not where you were supposed to .”

“He’s distracting.”

I settled on my table. “Goalies who blame distractions give up soft goals.”

“Goalies who talk during other people’s sessions are assholes.”

“That too.”

Matteo crouched to adjust the resistance on the machine in front of me. “I see you’ve both matured since Monday.”

Eli’s therapist told him to shift onto his injured side again.

His body moved a fraction, then stopped. His hands clamped around the bars.

“I am.”

“You’re thinking about it,” she said. “I need you to do it.”

“I’m trying.”

The edge in his voice silenced whatever smartass response had been waiting behind my teeth. He wasn’t pissed this time.

He was scared.

I started my first repetition. “You play deep or challenge?”

Eli glanced over. “What?”

“On a breakaway.”

“Depends who’s coming at me.”

“Bullshit answer.”

“It’s the right answer.”

“Then prove it.”

His therapist caught on before he did. “Again, Eli.”

He shifted as he explained why an aggressive depth would get a goalie embarrassed against anyone with decent hands. More weight moved onto his injured side before he realized what he’d done.

“Better,” she said.

Eli immediately looked down at his feet.

“Don’t,” I told him. “You’ll get in your own head.”

“You asked me a question.”

“And you forgot to be afraid while you answered it.”

His glare should’ve burned a hole through me. Instead, he reset his stance.

“You’re wrong about the breakaway.”

“I’m never wrong.”