I keep trying to roll it out as we walk.
“Don’t,” the trainer says without even looking at me.
I let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t realize I was being obvious.”
“You are.”
The exam room feels colder than the ice. The bright lights and the stiff padding under the table beneath me are worse than that god-awful air mattress Brinley had us sleeping on.
They move my arm carefully, guiding me through motions I’ve done hundreds of times before. I answer their questions on autopilot.
Any numbness? No.
Any tingling? No.
Does it feel unstable? No.
It’s not a lie, but maybe not the whole truth either.
They continue to prod my shoulder with their fingers, and I lock my jaw, refusing to give him anything. He nods in confirmation of something, then steps back.
“Probably just irritated it,” he says. “We’ll continue to keep an eye on it.”
I nod like that’s enough.
By the time I leave the room, the guys are ambling down the tunnel toward the locker rooms. When I push open the door, themusic is already blaring. The air is thick with sweat and the smell of gear. It’s the kind of noise I usually welcome after a win.
Tonight, I’m just not feeling it.
Kade looks up from his stall and studies me. He doesn’t say anything at first, but I can see the questions swirling in his mind. I drop my helmet into my stall and reach for the straps on my pads.
“What did they say?” he asks, nodding to my shoulder.
“It’s nothing,” I say, keeping my voice even as I start stripping out of my gear. “Just got it jammed.”
He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You stayed down.”
I shrug. “You saw all the traffic in front of the goal. I needed a second.”
“That second looked longer than usual,” Owen adds from across the room.
I glance at him. “You timing me now?”
No one laughs. That’s when I know they’re not buying it.
Kade watches me wrestle my jersey over my head. My right arm hesitates halfway up, and I have to switch hands to finish the motion.
His eyes narrow slightly. “They clear you?”
“Yeah.”
“For real?”
I finally look at him. “I’m the starting goalie. You think they’re putting me back out there if something’s wrong?”
He doesn’t say another word, and neither do I.
Our assistant coach, Coach Glasgow, passes through a minute later. “Shoulder is irritated, but it’s nothing serious. Just something we’ll keep an eye on,” he says, almost like he’s repeating something he was told.
