It reacted.
I didn’t think.
I just offered her an option that didn’t require her to explain herself.
Bagel. Low drama. No pressure.
She took it.
Then she actually ate it.
Not because I watched—because I didn’t. I deliberately didn’t. But I saw enough to know it wasn’t easy. And now I can’t stop thinking about the way her shoulders dropped after the first bite, like she’d been holding her breath all day.
It shouldn’t matter to me.
It does anyway.
“BENNETT!”
Coach’s voice snaps across the rink.
I blink, refocus, and push harder through the neutral zone like I didn’t just mentally time-travel.
Coach Graves skates along the boards, whistle bouncing against his chest. He’s in one of those moods where everything is “simple” and “obvious,” and if we aren’t executing perfectly, it’s because we’re personally insulting him.
“Tape-to-tape!” he barks. “Move your damn feet!”
I take a pass from Weston, settle it, dish it back through the middle. Shoulder check. Pivot. Drive the blue line. Drop it to the trailer.
Asher is waiting in the net.
Quick release. Net snaps.
Coach doesn’t praise. He nods once, like we hit baseline and anything less is shame.
“Again!”
We run it until my legs burn and my mind finally goes quiet. For a few minutes, hockey does what it always does for me: drags me into the present and forces my thoughts to stay here.
Practice ends with conditioning that makes me question every life choice I’ve ever made. When the whistle finally blowsfor good, the locker room explodes into noise—music, laughter, guys chirping like they didn’t just suffer.
Asher peels off his glove and blocker, unbothered. “What’s the new life plan today, Weston?”
“You’ll never see me again.” Weston points at him. “I’m starting a new life. I’m going to become a monk.”
Kai sits across from us, unlacing his skates with calm efficiency. “You’d last three minutes.”
Weston clutches his heart. “You don’t support my dreams.”
Kai doesn’t even look up. “Your dreams are annoying.”
Weston turns to me. “Bennett, back me up.”
I pull my shirt over my head and wipe sweat from my forehead. “No.”
Weston looks betrayed. “The forum girl has changed you.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Stop talking.”
