Someone whoops.
But my eyes drift automatically toward the door again.
Still no Lee.
I take another drink and sit back in the chair.
It’s weird.
The guy’s only been here about a week but celebrating tonight’s win feels like it should include him. Half those plays started on his stick. Hell, he practically tilted the whole game our way.
Mercer notices me looking toward the door.
“Waiting for our mystery man?” he asks.
“Just wondering,” I say.
Mercer snorts. “Guy’s allergic to teammates.”
A few of the others laugh.
“Seriously though,” Barrett says, “what’s his deal?”
“Medical privacy,” Mercer says in a mock-serious voice.
“Yeah, but what kind of medical condition means you can’t even sit in the same room as the rest of us?”
Chen shrugs from across the table. “Maybe he’s just shy.”
Mercer rolls his eyes. “Shy doesn’t mean disappearingthe secondhockey ends.”
Another guy leans back in his chair. “Maybe he’s got a contagious disease. But only when it comes to actually talking to us.”
More laughter. I don’t join in.
But honestly? It’s really bothering me too.
Not the face that he’s quiet - I’ve played with quiet guys before. Hockey attracts plenty of weird personalities. But Lee isn’t just quiet.
He’s completely separate.
No locker room. No hanging around before or after practice. No post-game drinks. Nothing.
“What kind of team player acts like he does?” Mercer mutters.
Russo finally speaks up. The room quiets a little to hear what the captain has to say about it.
“The kind who just helped us win our first game,” he says calmly.
Mercer shrugs. “Yeah, alright.”
Another round of drinks arrives.
The mood loosens again and someone starts arguing about the best play of the game.
That’s the thing about winning - it forgives a lot. Even weirdteammates.
I take another sip of my beer and glance toward the door one more time.
