I straightened up. Skated the length of the ice, building speed. Hit the far boards and circled back.
Again and again.
I circled the neutral zone. My breath synced with my stride—in on the push, out on the glide. My heart rate climbed and plateaued. The cold air burned my lungs in the best way.
I was halfway through another lap when I heard it. A cough.
I stopped so fast I nearly fell over.
My head snapped toward the sound. The stands were dark—mostly—but I spotted a shape in the third row. Someone sitting. Watching.
"Jesus Christ," I said, my voice echoing in the empty arena. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Sorry." Heath's voice drifted down. "Didn't mean to—I just—" He paused. "I couldn't sleep."
I skated to the boards. Squinted up at him.
He looked terrible. Shoulders hunched, hoodie pulled up, hands shoved in the front pocket. The emergency lights cast shadows across his face.
"How long have you been up there?" I asked.
"I don't know. Twenty minutes? I heard you come in. I was gonna say something, but then you started skating, and I didn't want to interrupt."
I rested my forearms on the boards. My heart rate was still elevated, my breath still coming fast.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah. I mean—" He made a vague gesture. "No. Not really. I keep thinking about the two-way contract. What happens if they send me down? If they decide I'm not ready. And then my head won’t let me stay on the shift I’m actually playing."
I knew that spiral. I'd lived in it for most of my career.
"You heard something about me?"
Heath hesitated. "Jake mentioned—he didn't give me details. Said you were dealing with some stuff. With the documentary guy."
"I'm figuring it out."
Heath nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Can I tell you something?" Heath asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"You're the reason I haven't asked for a trade."
I stared up at him.
"Every game that I play like shit and feel like—like I'm taking up space someone deserves more than me—I almost call my agent and tell him to get me out."
My hands tightened on the boards.
"But you always pull me aside and don't let me quit. You saidgetting up is the whole job." His voice cracked slightly. "You make it feel like I can do it."
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
"I'm not saying I've got it all fixed," Heath said. "It's still early in the season, and I'm still scared shitless most of the time. But I'm going to stay. You make me believe I can belong here." He stared into my eyes. "So whatever you're dealing with—I just wanted you to know that. You kept me from folding."
I was someone's reason. I was the person who made someone else believe they deserved to stay.
