To track the play. To stay in it.
Zane’s on the ice within the first shift.
Even from up here, I can see it immediately.
There’s an edge to him today. Scouts are out to watch him one final time - and, all being well, to make an offer.
I scan the stands - there they are.
A small cluster closer to the front. They’re the only people in the crowd with notebooks.
Go on, I think, as I watch him.Come on.
He doesn’t disappoint.
Midway through the first period, he cuts through the neutral zone, clean and confident, like he’s finally stopped overthinking every move.
He takes the shot without hesitation.
Goal.
I feel myself grin before I can stop it.
Zane skates past the bench, teammates slamming gloves against the boards.
“He’s so good,” Willow says quietly.
“Yeah,” I say, unable to take my eyes off the ice.
There’s a weird ache that comes with it being said out loud. Because I know exactly how good he is. I’ve played alongside it.
The game rolls on.
The team looks… fine.
More than fine.
Grant slots into the line without friction.
And I hate the thought that creeps into my head.
Maybe they never needed me at all.
The scoreboard keeps ticking in their favor.
Another goal.
Then another.
The Giants take control of the game like they’ve done this a hundred times before.
Like I was never there.
And then Zane scores again.
The scouts sit forward, watching him.
“I’m so happy for him,” I say, almost to myself.
