Practice ended with Coach's whistle and a final bark about showing up on time tomorrow. The team peeled off toward the locker room in a chaotic stream—helmets yanked off, gloves dangling from sticks, and the volume rising as they disappeared through the tunnel.
Hog lingered near the bench, unlacing his skates while Pickle talked with wild hand gestures.
I started to head down when I spotted Juno Park setting up in the upper stands.
Her blue hair caught the overhead lights, and she had that small recording rig she used for her podcast balanced on the seat beside her. She waved me over with two fingers.
I climbed up toward her row. "Rhett Mason, civilian boyfriend. Perfect timing."
"I'm not doing an interview."
"Wasn't asking you to." She nodded toward the ice where Hog had finally freed himself from Pickle and was skating slow laps, cooling down. "He is, though. Stick around. You might learn something."
"I know him pretty well already."
"Sure." Her grin was sharp. "But do you know what he says when he thinks you're not listening?"
She had a point.
I dropped into a seat two rows back, far enough to stay out of frame but close enough to hear.
Hog appeared a few minutes later, skates traded for slides. His face was flushed.
He sat across from Juno, all that size folding into a narrow seat. "This gonna take long? Rhett's here and I—"
"I know he's here." Juno hit record on her phone. "Five minutes, tops. Promise."
Hog nodded, drumming his fingers against his thigh.
"Connor," Juno started, voice shifting into her interview mode—warm but precise. "You've always been the loudest voice in the room. What's changed this season?"
He stopped drumming.
The silence stretched long enough that I thought he hadn't heard the question. Then, his shoulders dropped slightly.
"I learned you don't have to shout to matter."
Juno leaned forward slightly. "Can you elaborate?"
"This team—" He gestured vaguely toward the locker room. "They see me. All of it. The fights, the knitting, the banana bread, and the spirals when things get hard. They don't ask me to pick which parts are real." He paused. "Turns out when you're with people who give a shit, you don't have to perform to prove you belong."
Juno grinned. "That's the pull quote right there."
"Yeah?" A lopsided smile spread across Hog's face. "Margaret's gonna love that. She'll probably cross-stitch it on a pillow."
"She absolutely will." Juno clicked off the recorder. "Thanks, Hog. Go find your boyfriend. He's been staring at you like you hung the moon for the last three minutes."
Hog turned around and spotted me in the stands. I raised one hand in a small wave.
He climbed over two rows of setts to join me. "You heard that?"
"Most of it."
"And?"
I reached out for his hands. "I'm proud of you."
The tips of his ears turned red. "It's just an interview."
