He wasn't asking where I'd been. He was checking in.
Kieran:Yeah. You?
By the time I reached my car, he'd replied.
Heath:Shoulder's stiff. Nothing major.
The hit.
Kieran:Ice it.
Heath:Already did. Twice.
Kieran:Good.
A pause.
Heath:Watched some film. My net-front positioning in the second drill was off. Half a step too deep. That's why Garrett caught me turning.
He'd already sorted it. That was Heath. He absorbed a hit hard enough to crack his helmet on the ice, and then he went home and found the frame that showed what he'd done wrong.
Kieran:You were in position. Garrett timed it well. That's on him, not you.
Heath:Both. I gave him the angle.
I turned the key.
Heath:How was your night?
Kieran:Quiet. At Shedd. Ran some water tests. Fed the fish.
Heath:How's the beluga?
My hand tightened around the phone. Heath remembered Ansel specifically. I'd mentioned him only once, on a team bus, sandwiched between sea turtle photos.
Kieran:Good. Eating well. Lena says his energy's up.
Heath:That's good.
That could have been the end. Two people confirming the other was intact. Heath added one more line.
Heath:Glad you had a good night.
I started the car.
***
Heath's apartment was becoming familiar.
I knew the front door stuck in the cold, and I knew the third stair from the top creaked.
We were sharing Thai food this time. We sat on the floor because the kitchen table was too small for containers, and the couch was too narrow for two people eating cross-legged. Heath explained, without embarrassment, that the floor was where food happened in his apartment.
November pressed against the windows. The radiator ticked. The building's heat had two settings: insufficient and tropical.Tonight it was tropical, and Heath had opened a window an inch.
I had my back against the couch. Heath sat across from me with his legs folded and a container of pad see ew balanced on one knee.
"You want the last spring roll?" Heath asked.
