Willow squeezes my hand.
“I know you are.”
And I am.
Even with the hollow feeling of sitting up here instead of down there.
And even with the quiet, uncomfortable realization that the team is still winning without me.
I watch him skate past the bench again.
He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be and I let myself just be proud of him.
ZANE
I know it’s coming.
Coach doesn’t say it outright, but when he claps a hand on my shoulder after the game and says, “Don’t disappear,” I get the message.
I have a shower and change.
Then I’m being steered - subtly but very deliberately - toward one of the smaller conference rooms off the main corridor.
Russo catches my eye as I pass.
“Don’t screw it up,” he mutters.
Helpful.
I push the door open. Three men sit around the table. One of them I recognize from the bar.
He looks up and gives a small nod.
“Zane Blake,” he says. “Good game. I’m Henry.”
“Thanks,” I manage.
I don’t sit until they gesture.
Henry leans back slightly, studying me.
“We’ve been watching you for a while,” he says.
“You’ve had a strong run this season,” another scout adds. “But what stood out over the weekend and at the game today-”
He taps his pen lightly on the table.
“-was your composure. You’re the kind of player we need.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak yet.
Because if I do, I might say something stupid likethis is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Henry glances down at a folder, then back at me.
“Where are you academically?”
“Final year,” I say. “Exams in January.”
