The PR rep gathered them near the elevators, voice practiced and warm. “Okay, we’ll split into two groups. Jerseys and merch will go out on each floor. Please let the kids choose sizes when they can — it means more when it fits. We’ll rotate every twenty minutes.”
Cassie tucked her notebook into her bag. She wasn’t here to quote anyone today. She was here to watch.
The pediatric wing was brighter than she remembered — murals of cartoon animals skating across the walls, banners readingWELCOME RENEGADEStaped crookedly near doorways. Kids clustered in the common area, some in wheelchairs, some leaning against parents, some clutching IV poles decorated with stickers.
Connor dropped to a knee in front of a boy wearing a faded Renegades hat.
“Hey,” Connor said, tapping the brim. “That’s last season’s logo. Vintage.”
The kid squinted. “It’s my brother’s.”
“Sounds like you need one of your own,” Connor said, pulling a brand-new hat out of one of the boxes. “I’ll sign it for you, but only if you promise you won’t sell it on the internet.”
The boy laughed as Connor pulled out a marker, covering the whole brim of the hat with his autograph before handing it to the boy.
Damien hovered near the jersey boxes, unsure how to insert himself until a nurse handed him a stack and pointed toward a group of kids arguing over sizes. He approached cautiously, like a man diffusing a bomb.
“Uh,” Damien said. “We’ve got small, medium, large… and very large.”
A girl with braids shot him a look. “I want the goalie one.”
Connor, overhearing, pumped his fist. “Yes! Another believer.”
Nick Delgado knelt beside a boy struggling to pull a jersey over his cast, helping carefully, fingers patient and precise. He didn’t speak much — just smiled when the boy finally managed it and raised his arms in triumph.
Elias sat cross-legged on the floor with two boys who wanted to know if he was friends with Tanner. Elias smiled, saying that Tanner was one of his best friends.
“Who’s better at fighting?” one asked.
Elias considered this. “Probably you.”
Cassie smiled despite herself.
When a shy girl seemed a little nervous to be around the players, Caleb sat beside her without pushing, scrolling through photos of practice on his phone until the girl leaned closer on her own. Later, when a boy tried on his hat and refused to give it back, Caleb pretended to consider a trade before conceding defeat.
Tanner ended up in a corner of the common room with a boy who couldn’t have been older than ten, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a jersey folded carefully in his lap. The kid looked up at him, studying his face like he was solving a puzzle.
“Are you really the captain?” he asked.
Tanner smiled faintly. “That’s what they tell me.”
The boy frowned. “Does that mean you get to tell everyone what to do?”
“Not really,” Tanner said. He thought about it for a moment. “It mostly means you have to listen better than everyone else.”
The boy nodded, considering this. “That sounds hard.”
Tanner huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It is.”
The boy slid the jersey over his head, grinning. “I think I could do it.”
Tanner reached out and tugged the fabric straight, careful and gentle. “I think you could too.”
Cassie spotted Luke down the hallway near the individual rooms, holding a folded jersey against his chest like it mattered. He knocked gently before entering, crouching almost immediately once inside.
She stayed back, leaning against the wall, giving him space.
Inside the room, a small boy lay propped up with pillows, a Renegades blanket tucked around his legs. Luke held up the jersey.
