Mason gave a short laugh. “None of us did. Then we figured out we played better when we liked each other. As a team.”
Hunter wandered over, beer already in hand despite the coolers not being fully unpacked. “You two getting sentimental?”
“No,” Mason said. “We’re bonding. Don’t tell me you’ve given up already?”
Hunter took a sip. “I remembered I have nothing to prove, so went to get a beer instead. Those two can figure it out.”
Tucker called out, “Which tent am I in again?”
“You’re with Hunter,” Mason said.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Hunter raised his beer. “You love me.”
I watched them, the way the insults landed without edge, the way nobody took a word personally. It felt different being inside it instead of on the outside looking in. I’d spent most of last season keeping myself separate, convinced it made me sharper, better. Standing here now, dirt on my hands, sun on my neck, I wondered how much that distance had cost me.
Mason caught my look and bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re good here, Cross. Don’t overthink it.”
“I wasn’t.”
He smiled like he didn’t believe me but let it go. “Once we’re done, we’ve got cards, a football, and whatever questionable food Hunter packed.”
“Hey, watch it,” Hunter said. “I’ll have you know Holly made way too much effort making sure we had most of the major food groups for our time out here.”
“Aha! Victory!” Tucker’s face dropped when he looked over and saw Mason and me sharing a beer outside our tent that had been finished for a while. “Get me one of those. So humiliating starting the weekend in the negative.”
We moved down to the fire pit, and Grayson got some heat going. It was late afternoon, but the sun was weak and disappearing fast. It would be full dark in no time, and the chill announced the need for extra layers.
“Couldn’t hold out for summer, could you, Calder?” Hunter held his hands close to the flames and rubbed them together.
Mason shrugged. “Season’s over in summer. This was necessary now.”
“As captain,” Grayson said, clearing his throat with authority, “I get first dibs on those steaks Hunter’s hiding. Holly told me herself that the biggest one is mine.”
“Pull rank again,” Tucker said, “and I’m telling everyone you cried during our last game.”
Grayson froze as we all laughed. “That was sweat.”
“Sure it was,” Tucker said, then looked at me. “I was surprised you didn’t come to the game. Did you catch it on TV? Everyone thought we were goners, for sure.”
The answer was no. With round one tied three-all, I saw no hope that we’d scrape through. Not against Dallas. Nicole had gone to the game, and did me the favor of not talking about it after she got home.
But I couldn’t tell them that.
“I caught the highlights after,” I said, poking a stick into the red-hot coals that formed.
The tents stood upright now, three of them forming a loose triangle around the fire pit. The river kept moving in the background, steady and unbothered. For the first time in a while, the space in my chest that usually felt restless eased, just a little.
This wasn’t about drills or lines or minutes on ice. It was about being here, being let in, and not screwing it up by pretending I didn’t care.
“Look, I’m going to have to make a rule that we don’t talk about hockey while we’re out here.”
Everyone, including myself, gawked at Hunter.
“As captain—”
“Sorry, Grayson,” Mason said, cutting him off. “But this trip was my idea, and I’m gonna need you to trust me on this.”
