Heath:Can't sleep either. Coffee?
It was almost 2:00 am, the night before opening night. I looked at my dark condo. My expensive furniture. The grad school brochures with their underlined deadlines. The life I was carefully planning.
Kieran:Where?
Chapter three
Heath
The diner knew precisely what it was. Vinyl booths patched with duct tape. A griddle that had seen ten thousand eggs and counting. It was a place where the coffee arrived before you asked and nobody cared why you were awake at two in the morning.
I slid into the back booth. Clear view of the door.
A server materialized with a pot in hand. Name tag said DARLENE. She'd pulled her hair into a tight bun, not a strand out of place.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
She poured and left the pot within reach. My mug was heavy ceramic. I wrapped both hands around it and let the heat soak into my palms.
2:14 a.m. The hour between things. Too late for night, and too early for morning.
The door opened.
Kieran stepped inside. Dark crewneck sweater, sleeves pushed back as if he wanted nothing in his way. His jaw was tight, posture controlled. Carefully managed.
He paused just long enough to orient himself, then crossed the room without hesitation.
Darlene appeared. Glanced at my coffee, then at Kieran.
"Same?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
She poured and vanished.
Kieran lifted the mug. Breathed in the steam. Set it down without drinking.
"Almost bailed."
I watched him. "What changed your mind?"
"Figured if I was going to lie awake staring at the ceiling, I might as well do it somewhere else." His mouth pulled sideways. Almost a smile.
I drank. The coffee tasted like it had been on the burner too long—bitter, slightly burnt. Honest about what it was.
"You have routines?" I asked. "Pregame stuff?"
He was quiet for a beat. "Are you asking about hockey or life?"
"Is there a difference?"
"For me? No. That's the problem." He leaned back. The vinyl creaked. "Same breakfast every game day. Same warm-up pattern. Tape my stick the night before. Same conversation with my dad about contract negotiations. Same smile when reporters ask if I'm happy."
He stopped abruptly, as if he almost said more than he wanted to share.
"You didn't answer the question," I said.
