“Grant is traveling up with the team,” she says after a moment. “Just to support. I’m not clearing him to play yet.”
“That’s good.”
“He’s not ready. If he went out there too early, he’d set himself back weeks.”
“So, Lee stays.”
“For now.” Tara glances at me again. “I support you, you know that.”
“I do.”
“But this is a huge risk. Other teams will be watching closely, not to mention the media attention.”
“And Scouts.”
“Exactly.”
She taps the steering wheel again. “We just need to be careful.”
We drive another mile before she speaks again.
“Let’s think through logistics. How early do you want toarrive at the arena?” she asks.
“I can be first.”
“Good.”
“If I’m already dressed when the team arrives it’s less noticeable.”
“Exactly. I’ve secured a small physio room you can use for gear again.”
“Same routine as at home.”
“And post-game?”
“Same as before,” I say. “Leave quickly.”
Tara nods. “We’ll also keep the medical narrative simple. If anyone asks why Shaw changes separately, it’s still the same answer. Medical privacy.”
The road ahead widens as the highway merges toward the city hosting the tournament.
A large arena sign appears in the distance.
“There’s the other complication,” she says. “The hotel. I’ve booked you a room on a different floor from the team. Officially it’s so you can rest properly and keep away from the chaos for medical reasons. But the problem is this weekend isn’t just about hockey.”
She gestures vaguely toward the road ahead.
“These tournaments are networking events. Teams socialize in the hotel lobby. Scouts circulate and talk to coaches.”
Right.
Which means teammates notice when someone’s missing.
She gives me a sideways look.
“Honestly, the best thing we can do is rely on the intensity of the weekend.”
“How do you mean?”
