The bus hit a pothole, and it jolted us. Our shoulders pressed together for a second.
"You think about this a lot," I said. "The science of it."
"It makes sense. Hockey doesn't always."
"What do you mean?"
He exhaled and spoke softly. "Hockey's about proving you belong every shift. Marine biology's about making sure something can survive with the right conditions. One has you living with constant evaluation. The other asks you for patient observation."
"Which do you prefer?"
Kieran didn't answer immediately.
"The one where I'm not being evaluated," he said finally.
The bus turned into the airport approach. Kieran retrieved his bag from under the seat.
"You played well tonight," he said. "Don't let commentators make you second-guess it."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
I looked at him, and he looked right back.
"You held position when their thug tried to move you. That's not luck. That's discipline."
***
The hotel catered to business travelers and road teams. Clean. Functional.
We checked in fast. Key cards distributed by the equipment manager. Room assignments pre-determined.
I rode the elevator to the eighth floor with Rook and Varga. Varga was mid-story about a goalie in juniors who'd allegedly kept a live chicken in his equipment bag for luck.
"—I'm telling you, the smell—"
My room was 823. View of the parking garage.
Dropped my bag on the luggage rack and checked my phone.
One text from my sister.
Maggie:How'd it go?
Heath:Won. Scored.
Maggie:Mom saw the highlight. She's thrilled.
I continued to unpack. Hung my suit in the closet and plugged in my charger.
It was barely past eleven, and my body remained wired from the game. I changed into gym shorts and a t-shirt.
The hotel gym was on the second floor. Down a hallway that smelled faintly of chlorine from the adjacent pool.
It was empty. Treadmills against one wall. Free weights and benches against the other. Fluorescent lighting that flattened everything into two dimensions.
A TV mounted in the corner playedSportsCenterwith the sound off. Closed captions lagged three seconds behind, like a drunk translator.
