“I didn’t do this to trick you,” she says. “I didn’t do it to cheat. I did it because-”
Her voice catches.
“Because this college cut the women’s team years ago. And because I watched my dad build something here,” she goes on, quieter now, “and I watched it fall apart, and I just-”
She stops. Takes a breath.
“I just wanted to play.”
No one speaks.
No one moves.
It’s like the whole room is holding itself in place.
I don’t remember stepping forward. But suddenly I’m walking toward her. Every eye in the room is tracking me waiting to see how I handle it.
I stop in front of her. She looks up at me.
There’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before.
Uncertainty.
Like this is the moment that decides everything.
“You set me up for a goal in your first game.”
“What?”
“The Eagles game,” I say. “First period. You drew the defender and slipped it across.”
“I - yes.”
“You learned to throw a check in one practice with Chen.”
The words come easier now.
“You made us better.”
I hold her gaze. “I don’t care what name you used.”
Mercer stands again, disbelief written all over his face.
“You don’t CARE?” he snaps. “Blake, are you hearing yourself? She LIED to us. She cost us-”
“She cost us NOTHING.”
I turn on him.
“Name one game she lost for us,” I say. “Name one shift where she didn’t earn her ice time.”
Mercer opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
“She played better than most of this room. And you know it.”
The silence that follows is different now.
Less chaotic. More… divided.
