He’s clearly better than most of the people we just saw.
I shake my head slowly.
“Yeah,” I admit.
But where the fuck did this guy come from?
LEONORA
By the time the scrimmage ends my lungs are burning in the exhilarating way that only happens when you’ve been skating at full speed for long enough that the rest of the world disappears. My legs feel alive, every muscle humming with that familiar buzz I haven’t felt in years.
God, I missed this.
I skate slowly back toward the boards as Coach blows the whistle and calls everyone in.
I try not to look like the most excited person in the entire building.
Inside, though?
I’m practically vibrating.
It went well.
Better than well.
I can feel it in the way the drills unfolded, in the quiet looks some of the players gave me when I moved the puck or slipped into position at the right moment. Even Zane Blake - who spent the whole scrimmage skating like he was testing me - eventually stopped looking skeptical.
I keep my helmet firmly in place.
No risks.
Coach skates over to the assistants near the boards and they talk quietly for a minute while the rest of the hopefuls wait awkwardly in a loose line.
This is the worst part.
Waiting.
I grip my stick tighter and stare down at the ice, trying not to overthink it.
Finally, Coach turns back toward us.
“Alright,” he says.
Everyone straightens slightly.
“Thanks for coming out today.”
It sounds very final.
“You all skated well,” he continues, voice calm and professional, “but we’re only looking for one temporary spot right now.”
There’s a small murmur among the group.
Coach gestures toward the boards.
“You’re free to head out.”
Most of them start moving immediately, climbing over the boards and skating toward the locker room.
