I want to kill him.
But the puck is dropping. The game is still happening. And Lee - Leonora - isn’t here.
I skate back to the faceoff circle.
I can’t find my rhythm. The passes that were automatic an hour ago feel forced, wrong. I keep looking for her along the boards, expecting her to be there, and she’s not.
Russo scores. I barely notice.
The Wolves answer. Then they score again.
By the time the buzzer sounds, I don’t remember most of it. Just flashes. Bodies moving. The scoreboard ticking. The hollow feeling in my chest that doesn’t match the way the bench is erupting around me.
Final score. Four-three. We win.
We’re champions.
The guys are shouting, hugging, throwing gloves in the air. I stand at the bench and watch them.
I should be in the middle of it. This is what I came for. This is what we worked for. A championship. The trophy. The moment that changes everything.
But all I can think about is her walking down that tunnel alone.
I turn away from the celebration.
I don’t know what I’m going to say when I find her. I don’t know what happens now - to her and to the team - to the season that’s about to get ripped apart by people who weren’t on the ice today.
But I know she shouldn’t be alone.
LEONORA
Tara is packing supplies into a bag. She looks up when the door opens, sees Zane, and hesitates.
“I’ll give you a minute,” she says.
She leaves. The door clicks shut behind her.
Zane stands in the middle of the room, still in his gear, still sweating from the game. His hair is damp. He looks like he ran the whole way here.
I pull the helmet off.
It comes away easily this time - no strap to unfasten, nothing to hold it in place.
Zane is looking at me.
“We won,” he says.
“I heard.”
“I didn’t-” He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t focus. I kept looking for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
He crosses the room. Sits on the table beside me. Not touching. Just close.
“You okay?”
The question is so ordinary, so impossible, that I almost laugh.
