"I watched it," I said finally. "The network cut. The thing they made with the footage Adrian gave them."
Hog's needles paused—for a second. Then they started moving again.
"And?"
"And it was—" I stopped. Took a breath. Started again. "They turned me into a punchline. Circus music while I check the Zamboni. Cartoon sound effects when I fixed the chair at The Drop. They took the interview footage—the part where I said I wanted to be remembered for the right reasons—and they cut it into me spraying water in my own face."
The needles kept clicking.
"They cut everything else," I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. "All the hockey. The mentorship with Heath. The reads I made during practice. Every single piece of footage that showed me as a real player—they rejected it. Adrian sent it. Multiple times. They said no every time."
"But they kept the disasters."
"Yeah."
Hog set his knitting down and looked at me.
"They didn't just mock me," I said. "They erased me. They took everything that makes me competent and deleted it. What’s left is the clatter. Me dropping things. Me fixing things. Me looking like I don’t know what I’m doing."
I'd said exactly what I meant to say. No spiral.
Hog leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "People who love you don't edit you smaller."
The line landed like a fist to the chest.
From the bathroom, I heard the shower turn on. The pipes groaned.
"Adrian said he was trying to protect me," I said quietly. "He said he was buying time. Sending them what they wanted so he could stay on the project and influence the final cut."
"Did it work?"
"No."
"Then he wasn't protecting you. He was managing you." Hog's voice was matter-of-fact. "There's a difference."
I stared into my tea. The surface rippled slightly because my hands were trembling.
"How do I know which version of Adrian is real? The one who held me like I mattered, or the one who sent footage of me the network could turn into a meme?"
Hog didn't hesitate. "You watch what happens next."
NoI'm sure he loves you,orpeople make mistakes. He gave me reality, served straight.
I nodded. Set the mug down.
"I should go."
"You don't have to."
"I know. But I—" I gestured vaguely at myself. "I need to move. My body's doing this thing where it feels like if I sit still too long, I'll vibrate apart."
Hog stood. Crossed to the door. Pulled his keys off the hook and held them out.
"Rink keys," he said. "Emergency lights are on a switch by the Zamboni bay. Lock up when you're done."
I took the keys.
"Thanks. Tell Rhett thanks, too. For being here. For not making it weird."
