I understand Mrs. Henderson’s question, and what she was really asking.
Do I have what it takes to take on the role of a founding coach?Am I built for the long game.
I've been the guy on the ice my whole career.
Maybe this is what comes next. Being the reason the next guy becomes the guy.
We skate back toward center ice. The three of us fall into an easy circuit, the kind that means nobody's ready to stop moving but nobody has anything urgent to say either.
Levi breaks it first.
"Lily's been asking about the baby shower. Leia's due in July. She wants someone who actually understands event logistics—not just a spreadsheet with a centerpiece budget."
Cam picks it up without missing a stride. "And Tara'scoordinator fell through last week. Three months out. We're running out of options."
They’re not looking at me. They’re just talking. I’m the one adding meaning.
I keep my face neutral. The thought lands, uninvited.
Jane Cooper blew up a wedding in January. They're already asking if someone can build one in May. And plan a baby shower in June.
I don't say this out loud. But something in my chest expands—because it means Cedar Falls already has reasons to need her before she even knows this town exists on my map.
Cedar Falls is where Jane could build something. Not just survive—build. Her business. A life.
And us?
The thought is too big, too early. I push it back where it came from.
Cam pivots the conversation again, reading the ice with his usual precision. "Mustangs are going to want their head coach visible. Community events. Charity skates. The whole deal. You'll be a fixture."
I glance up. The auxiliary screen is running a clean feed now. Tara gives a thumbs up toward the catwalk. Scott appears at her shoulder, radio in hand, says something. She nods.
Visible here means being in the building before sunrise because the town is.
Levi: "Can’t wait for you to give Scott a run for his money. Cedar Falls’ Most Eligible Bachelor, round two."
Cam grins: "You're not dating, right? Your reputation precedes you. Everyone thinks you're basically a monk who hits people for a living."
A beat. I skate a half-circle. Come back.
"I'm… kinda seeing someone."
The silence isn't dramatic. It's the rapid recalculation of two men processing new information without warning—the particular stillness of friends realizing they've missed a chapter.
Cam: "Kinda?"
"Once my work situation is settled, I'd like to make it official."
They exchange a look over my head. I see it. I choose not to acknowledge it.
Then, near-unison: "Bring her to Cedar Falls."
Levi: "Sounds like she's the one we need to convince."
I don't confirm or deny.
Which is, of course, a confirmation.
