“Not bad for a mystery guy who barely talks.”
He tilts his helmet slightly toward me.
“Not bad for someone who thinks I need a babysitter.”
Touché.
I grin. “You still might.”
“Keep dreaming.”
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly behind the helmet cage.
It finally feels less like skating beside a stranger and more like skating beside a teammate.
LEONORA
The tunnel is louder than usual after the game - buzzing in that slightly stunned way teams get after something unexpected happens.
Our first win.
I peel off toward the side corridor before the rest of the team reaches the locker room, slipping down the quieter hallway that leads to Tara’s little treatment room. The routine is automatic now - helmet and gear off, skullcap tucked into my bag, hair shaken loose. Then I get changed into my normal clothes before anyone can see.
As I pull my jersey off, the mirror above the sink catches the bruises blooming across my ribs and shoulder.
I grin at myself.
Worth it.
Twenty minutes later I’m back outside the arena entrance, the night air biting pleasantly against my still-warm skin. The crowd is thinning now, people drifting toward the parking lot in loose clusters, still talking about the game.
I’m halfway across the pavement when a familiar voice shrieks my name.
“Leonora!”
I turn just in time for Willow to launch herself at me.
She throws her arms around my shoulders so enthusiastically I stagger backward a step.
“Holy shit!” she yells.
Katie arrives a second later, laughing.
“You won, Leonora!”
I can’t help smiling. “We did.”
“We were so worried after yesterday,” Willow says. “That game looked brutal. I thought you were going to get flattened at least five times.”
“That’s very encouraging.”
“I’m serious! That one guy practically tried to fold you in half. But tonight-” she gestures wildly back toward the arena. “Tonight you were incredible!”
“I set up a couple plays.”
“You body-checked a guy twice your size!”
“Technically,” I say, “he just lost his balance.”
