I nod, even though my head is spinning. We shake hands, and just like that, she’s off again, already calling someone named Melvin about “brain tech with bite.”
I’m still clutching her card when Tristan finds me again. He takes one look at my face and steps in close.
“Good news?”
I hold the paper up to his face. “Very good. She wants to trial the device in the WHL next season.”
He whistles low. “That’s huge, Min.”
“I know.”
“You okay?”
I blink a few times. “I think I might throw up. But like, in a good way?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s my girl.”
Something about the way he says it—that quiet pride, the steadiness of it—makes my throat tighten.
“This could be athing, Tristan. Like, athing thing. I might have to make a website. Hire people. Do business things. I don’t even own a blazer.”
He chuckles. “You could wear pajamas and still land the contract.”
“You say that now, but wait until I accidentally forward a proposal to my grocery list.”
“I’ll be there to stop you,” he says simply.
And I believe him.
Because for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m on the outside of something, trying to claw my way in.
Iamthe thing.
And he’s right beside me, holding the door open.
I’m almost off the stage when the moderator grabs the mic and says, “Before you go, Ms. Marino, one last question. What inspired you to develop the Marino Method?”
Oh, no. That question wasn’t on the prep sheet.
My heart stutters, but I force my face into neutral. “That’s… a complicated answer.”
The audience laughs politely, and I catch sight of Tristan, arms crossed, that subtle smirk he saves just for me tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nods once. Encouraging.
Okay. Fine. I can do this.
I step back toward the podium. “Truthfully, I was trying to solve a problem no one else was solving. I saw athletes pushed to the edge of their endurance, celebrated for ‘toughing it out’ when they were actually suffering traumatic brain injuries. I watched players get sidelined after one too many hits, and I kept thinking—why are we letting this happen when we couldmeasureit?”
A pause.
“And also… I was lonely.”
That gets their attention.
“I didn’t fit where I came from. I was always the weird girl with a ferret and a whiteboard. But when I started this work, I found something that made me feel useful. Something that gave me a reason to speak up, even when my voice shook.”
I glance at Tristan again. He’s not smirking anymore. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed on me like I’m the only person in the room.
“And then I met someone who made me feel… seen. Not tolerated. Not handled. Butcherished—brain and all. And being loved like that changes your chemistry.”
