I exhale.
Maybe I can do this.
Somewhere offstage, Tristan shifts his weight, and somehow I feel it—like he’s bracing the air beneath me. Like even if I fall apart, he’ll catch all the pieces.
A low ripple of laughter spreads across the room, warm and human. I blink at the brightness of the stage lights. They’re hot. Not “fun in the sun” hot—more like “oven preheating to 425” hot. I resist the urge to duck behind the podium and strip off my jumpsuit.
Instead, I take a breath. Reset.
“I promise I’m not here to complain about conference attire.” I click the remote to advance to my next slide. “I’m here to talk about brains. Specifically, how to keep them intact.”
That earns a hum of polite approval. Science people are weirdly into intact brains. I’m grateful for that.
I swipe to the data set, and my voice steadies. “When I started working with the Vegas Venom, I tracked unreported head trauma in non-goalie hockey players. Next, I created a wearable sensor system that detected micro-concussive impacts with a 91% accuracy rate. What I didn’t expect was how many players were experiencing those impacts without ever showing symptoms.”
Now they’re quiet. Really listening.
I keep going.
“The initial test sample was small—just five players. But the data was compelling enough to scale. With support from the Venom organization”—I gesture to the logo in the corner ofthe slide—“and one incredibly open-minded team owner, I was able to pilot the device during regular season play. Within six months, we had longitudinal impact data on seventeen players, with ten showing signs of cumulative trauma before any formal diagnosis.”
I glance at the screen. The next slide is a chart. A beautiful, clean chart with red and blue bar graphs and tiny labels I spent hours aligning.
“This chart shows performance before and after implementation. Players had fewer headaches, better recovery time, and—in some cases—improved coordination and shot accuracy. Which was not an official goal, but…” I pause, letting the slide change. “…is something Dante Giovanetti feels very strongly about.”
A few people laugh again. It’s not a big moment, but it tells me I’m safe here. They’re not sharks. Just engineers. With lanyards.
I grip the edges of the podium again, grounding myself. “This work is personal to me. Not just because I care about the science, but because I care about the players. One in particular. My amazing fiancé. You don’t need to have a PhD or an MD to protect someone you love.”
Someone near the front jots that down.
I’m doing it. I’m actually doing it.
Offstage, Tristan leans against the wall. I can’t see much through the lights, but I know his posture from memory. Despite his crossed arms, he’s smiling. He’s probably the only man here who isn’t watching my chest move when I breathe.
I lift my chin. “So I stopped trying to make this technology perfect. I made it useful. Comfortable. Scalable. I made itwearable. And now it’s being used by fourteen pro teams across three leagues.”
A smattering of applause. I pause. Let it land.
Then I add, “Also, it’s ferret-safe. Don’t ask me how I know.”
The laughter is louder this time.
I smile. This is going better than I ever imagined.
I wrap up the Q&A with a quote from Rosalind Franklin and step off the stage before the applause fully dies down. My knees wobble. My palms sweat. I may have blacked out somewhere around the concussion data, because how am I even still upright?
I scan the wings for Tristan.
He’s not leaning on the wall anymore.
He’s storming toward me with the singular focus of a man who’s about to propose all over again.
I open my mouth to say something—anything clever or professional—but he cups my jaw, kisses me square in front of half the world’s nerdiest engineers, and says against my mouth, “Youdestroyedthat.”
“Tristan,” I whisper, eyes wide. “Thank you for supporting me.”
He nuzzles against my temple. “You literally just stood on a stage in front of a hundred tech bros and explained how you’re single-handedly saving the brains of professional athletes. You think I was gonna miss your public speaking debut?”
