My stick leans where I left it, propped against the bench leg like always. Waiting.
I’m methodical, trying to find my rhythm in the ritual.
I strip my gear, each piece laid out with obsessive care. I’m down to compression shorts and a sweat-darkened workout tee, skin still hot from the pads. I start cleaning, wiping down the pads, trying to exorcise her from my mind. I wipe away the phantom feel of her skin, her heat.
I check the glove lacing, pulling it tight, trying to re-tie my shredded focus.
Control. I need that control back.
I run the towel along the blocker seam twice, then a third time, until the stitching sits perfect under my thumb. It’s nothing, and it’s everything.
Rylan is holding court two stalls down, basking in attention like a predator.
“Place was packed last night,” he crows, peeling off his soaked jersey. “The Box was crawling.”
I tune him out.
Just noise.
“Saw Addison’s kid there,” he says, and his voice slices through my focus like a knife.
My hands stop.
I’m holding a wet towel, knuckles white around it.
Don’t bite.
“Who? Coach’s daughter?” someone asks.
“Yeah. Sitting there with Hale’s girl,” Rylan laughs, a sickening sound. “She’s hotter than I thought. Way hotter up close.”
Shut up.
I wipe down a buckle. My movements turn jerky, a quicksilver tension coiling tight in my chest.
He’s talking about her like she’s meat. Tainting her.
He looked at her. He doesn’t get to.
The only calm, quiet thing in this entire fucking place. He doesn’t get to look at her.
“She was sitting there all quiet, playing stuck up,” Rylan keeps going, his tone dripping with slime. “You know how it is. She looks like she needs to be loosened up. I bet she’s wild underneath all that ice.”
Don’t do it.
He’s just talking. He has no idea what he’s talking about.
She’s not “ice.” She’s a survivor. She’s braced for impact, a fortress forged from trauma.
He doesn’t get to see that.
“Dude, shut up, that’s the coach’s daughter,” Gio cuts in, his voice tight, the humor stripped away.
“So? Coach isn’t here.” Rylan is revelling in this, playing to the crowd. “I’m just saying. She transferred for a reason, right? I’d like to find out what Talia Addison is really like.”
The name.
Her name.
