This was the thing I’d chased in the quiet hours, the thing I’d convinced myself I could handle if it ever came.
And now it was here.
With Mason watching.
With the team watching.
With everyone who’d ever wondered if I belonged finally getting a clear answer.
Mason didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t push it any further. He just leaned back against the bench, one crutch resting against his thigh.
“Congrats, man.” Shawn clapped me on the shoulder, and that single move seemed to break through the tension. Everyone settled again, continued getting ready, talked to each other in hushed tones.
Coach clapped once, cutting through it all. “Okay, get ready. I’m adding ten minutes onto the session to make up for the late start.”
Tape started moving again. Skates were laced tighter. Guys stood and drifted toward the door.
But I stayed seated a little longer.
This was everything I’d wanted, and also everything I was afraid of messing up.
As I stood, the weight of the moment settled in a way I couldn’t ignore. It was tough going, feeling pride and paralyzing fear at the same time.
“Part of being successful at this is learning how to ignore the things that don’t matter.” Grayson came up and threw his arm around my shoulders. I’d been so caught up in my head, I hadn’t realized he was still in here with me. “Welcome to the first line, Santos.”
There was a reason he was our captain. Solid as ever.
“Thanks.” I tried to crack a smile, but it felt as though my face collapsed under the weight of such a tall order.
We started out together, the guys’ voices filtering back from the hallway. My name came up a few times, and I guess Grayson must’ve felt the way I braced beside him, because—
“Mason’s mad at himself, and taking it out on everyone,” he said. “But just so you know, I would’ve picked you over Shawn too.”
I stared at him, my steps slowing. “Shawn’s the better center.”
“His arm never quite healed back to what it used to be.”
“But still—”
“I’m giving you a compliment, goddammit.” Grayson slapped me on the back and laughed under his breath. “You can be a real blockhead sometimes, you know that?”
The childish name made me think of Sage. It was something she would’ve called me right now if she were here. My shoulders eased a bit, and a small laugh even managed to wade through the swamp of emotions tearing me up.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll try to stop being so dense all the time.”
Grayson’s grin widened. “That’s a good start.”
We reached the end of the tunnel, the rink opening up in front of us with the guys already spilling onto the ice.
Coach didn’t waste a second. “Give me circles.”
Guys split without discussion. Centers to the dots, wingers wide, and defense drifting back while the pucks scattered across the ice in a messy pile near the red line.
Grayson glided toward the near faceoff circle and jerked his chin at me. “Your dot.”
Right. Almost forgot.
I pushed off and cut across the ice, carving toward the circle. My skates bit hard as I slowed, stick settling into my hands while the rest of the line slid into place.
