“My career,” I said. “My career matters more.”
“Good.” She picked up her tablet. “Then we do this by the book. You miss a session without a valid reason, we have a problem. You lie about pain, we have a bigger problem. But if you're honest with me, if you trust the process—we'll get you ready.”
“I can do that.”
“I know you can.” She made a final note. “Same time tomorrow. Bring that same energy.”
I nodded, grabbed my water bottle, and headed for the showers. My shoulder throbbed. My leg ached. Every muscle in my body was screaming.
But I'd done it. Showed up. Did the work. Told the truth.
It was a start.
I wentto the rink afterward.
Not to skate but just to be near the team. To remind myself I still belonged even when I wasn't playing. The locker room was empty when I got there, guys still out on the ice for afternoon practice, and I sat down in my stall and just breathed.
“Hartley.”
I looked up to find Rook standing in the doorway, helmet in hand, sweaty and flushed from drills. He walked over and dropped into the stall beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, and started unlacing his skates like he'd planned to be there all along.
“Practice go well?”
“Mercer took a puck to the ass in the third drill. So yeah, pretty good.” He pulled one skate off and dropped it. “Hallowell's been doing your drills.”
“How's he looking?”
“Terrible. It's been great for morale.” He glanced at me sideways. “You're welcome.”
I almost smiled. “Glad my injury's working out for everyone.”
“Silver linings.” He started on the second skate. “You eaten today?”
“...I had coffee.”
“Unbelievable.” He shook his head like I'd personally offended him. “You're a professional athlete.”
“I'm an injured professional athlete. Different category.”
“Same stomach.” He leaned back against the stall, stretching his legs out. “Coach doesn't drive hours into the woods for a player he doesn't care about, you know.”
I looked at him, trying to read his expression, but Rook's face gave nothing away. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying whatever happened up at that cabin, it wasn't just about hockey.” He met my eyes. “And before you panic—I don't care. You're allowed to have a life outside of this rink.”
My heart was pounding too fast. “Rook?—”
“Look, I'm not asking for details about your feelings or whatever.” He made a face like the wordfeelingsphysically pained him. “I'm just saying you don't have to act like everything's fine when it's clearly not. And if there's something you want to tell me, now's the time. I'm trapped here anyway.”
The opening was there. I could take it or leave it.
Fuck it.
I looked at him. “You know I'm not going to end up with anyone's sister.”
Rook didn't even blink. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
“That's it?” I said.
