“And yet I still have to babysit you,” she shot back, moving down the aisle.
The guys snickered, but I let it roll off. If anything, the rhythm of our bickering had started to feel familiar. Comfortable, even.
Inside the hospital, the smell of antiseptic mixed with waxy crayons and quiet laughter. Nurses in colorful scrubs guided us through the ward, cameras trailing at a distance.
I pulled off my Surge cap as we entered the first room. A little boy in a Predators jersey sat propped up in bed, tubes taped to his arms. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. His eyes went wide when he saw us.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, crouching down beside him. “Wrong team, but I’ll let it slide.”
He giggled weakly.
“You want a picture?” I asked.
He nodded. Then I remembered, and glanced at Holly, who gave a small nod back.
I scooped the boy gently onto my knee, careful of the tubes, and smiled for the camera. “You play hockey?” I asked him afterward.
“In the street,” he said. “With my brother. He’s nine and doesn’t want me to play sometimes even though I score more goals than him.”
“That’s how I started,” I said with a chuckle. “You keep at it. Don’t let anybody tell you you’re too small.”
His mom wiped at her eyes.
We moved from room to room. Autographs, high-fives, handing out Surge hats and foam pucks. Holly hovered nearby, making sure no lines were crossed, but she wasn’t giving orders anymore.
In the third room, a little girl too weak to sit up reached for my glove. I knelt beside her bed, holding her tiny hand in mine for a long moment.
“You’re my favorite,” she whispered.
Something caught in my throat. “You’re mine too,” I said.
When I stood up, Holly was watching. Not with the usual hawk-eyed scrutiny, but something softer. Her lips were parted like she was about to say something, then she looked down at her iPad instead.
Later, in the hallway while the guys posed for a group photo with the staff, Holly stepped up beside me.
“You surprised me today,” she said quietly.
“That’s the point,” I smiled. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I mean it. You’re good with them. You made it special.”
I shrugged. “Not my first rodeo. My kid brother wasn’t the healthiest of little guys, and I spent hours trying to make him feel better.”
She looked at me for a beat longer than usual, like she was trying to recalibrate. Then Theo ran by and stole the moment.
“Quit dragging your behind, Callahan. Group shot.”
I tipped my head toward the camera crew. “Duty calls.”
And as I walked away, I felt her gaze still on me.
Back on the bus afterward, the energy was lowkey and wholesome.
“That was cool,” Theo said. “Kid in the Preds jersey totally owned you, though.”
I smirked. “Yeah, he did.”
No one made another jab about Holly to me. I’d already decided before we got off the ice last night: they could tease all they wanted. She was doing her job. And somewhere along the way, she’d made mine a little easier too.
