“Ah! I was hoping you were here,” he says. “It’s great to see you back.”
“It is nice to be back,” I say. “The doctor says I should be able to play in six weeks!”
“Yes, yes. We received the paperwork from his office.” Coach doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “We thought for a moment that you wouldn’t recover your memory at all.”
“I am sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s not your fault.” Coach glances between Mateo and me. He chews his bottom lip.
Coach never looks worried, but now he does.
Mateo smooths his hair, like he does when he is nervous. I want to pull him against me, but that might be inappropriate. He is probably nervous in front of Coach.
Oh, God. Even if I had been brave and charming and unlike myself and asked Mateo out, like in his imaginary story, would he have said no? He likes his job. I have made his life difficult.
“I am glad your health is improving,” Coach says.
“I cannot wait to play again,” I say. “I am so sorry that I got injured. I promise to work hard for you.”
Coach looks down. “You have an excellent attitude, Florian. Sometimes hockey is… unfair.”
“Like with Dmitri Volkov,” I say.
Coach steps back. His eyes narrow. “What do you know about him?”
“Only that he had to leave the team suddenly.”
“He was deported,” Coach says. “The situation was… complicated.”
I nod. My teammates still talk about him.
Coach studies me. He is being intense, but that is in his character. His gaze flicks to Mateo, then back to me. “I want to make sure you have the best experience with the Blizzards.”
“I am already having the best experience.”
Coach looks down again, and I think his cheeks might be redder than before. “Good. Mateo is going to be traveling with the team when we go to Florida and Carolina. But if you want, you can join him.”
I blink.
Mateo blinks.
Coach nods multiple times. “Yes. You’ll get eased back into hockey life. Only it will be even nicer, you can be a spectator.”
“That might be nice…”
“Of course!” Coach beams. “Then it is settled.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Mateo
Tampa
Daniela ushers the team quickly out of the Tampa Airport, and we’re soon standing in the thick heat. Palm trees and tropical bushes line the airport drive. Cars stop to drop off somber men in tropical sets and equally somber looking women in equally vibrant dresses. They enter the airport.
The team files into an air-conditioned bus, and Florian sits beside me.
