He watched the relocation in silence, eyes dark, unreadable.
“Reconfiguring workspace,” I said, aiming for casual.
“Right.”He unlaced his shoes with his good hand, slower than any six-year-old.“Less clutter.”
I shrugged.
Gear shed, he sat on his bed, phone glowing.I heard the faint whine of voicemail playback—male voice, too muffled to parse.Luke hit delete before it finished and dropped the phone face down.
Before the screen went dark, I caught a glimpse of his notifications.Three missed calls fromDad.One text from a contact labeled simplyMom—no photo, no emoji, just the name.He hadn’t opened it.
I didn’t ask.Some variables weren’t mine to solve.
I tugged my chair under the desk—territory established.
“They finally fixed the heater in the lobby,” I mentioned, testing the airwaves.
“That’s good.”Short.Distracted.
I hesitated.“Forecast says snow for the game this weekend.”
Luke didn’t look up from his phone.
“I saw.”
“Might make it hard for the the team to get here,” I added.
“Yeah.”He swiped his thumb across the screen, scrolling past content he clearly wasn’t reading.“I know Harper has already been in contact with their Coach.”
That was it.Just polite, empty noise.
The radiator hissed.Eight feet never sounded so loud.
I opened a topology article, pretended the symbols held my focus.Luke swapped one ice pack for another before setting the timer on his watch.Precision man bleeding under control.
Twenty minutes crawled.I didn’t read past page one.Finally, I gave up and capped my pen.“I’m heading to Ridgeway early tomorrow.Calc reviews.”
He nodded without lifting his head.“Sleep’s smart.”
No goodnight joke, no constant check.Bare data.
I stood, hesitated.The puck’s surface caught lamplight—the night he handed it to me, glove-save grin bright.I turned it upside down.The weight felt the same; the meaning flipped.
His breath hitched, soft sound I almost missed.When I faced him, his gaze was on the inverted puck.Something like regret flickered, gone before measurement.
I clicked off my lamp, crawled into bed under stiff sheets.Facing the wall, I listened to him swap ice packs one last time.
After lights-out he whispered, “Night, Austen.”
I let two breaths pass, then answered, “Night.”
Chapter 31
Home Team Pressure
Luke
The puck clanged off the far post and ricocheted straight back at my mask.
