LEONORA
One more win.
That’s all it takes.
I finish tightening the tape on my stick and push away from the boards, skating a slow loop through the neutral zone while the rest of the team finishes warm-ups.
Across the rink, Mercer is already arguing with one of the defencemen about something pointless. Russo is firing pucks lazily at Chen, who swats them aside without much effort.
Then I see Zane skating toward me.
I assume he’s just cutting across the ice to join the others, but he slows as he gets closer.
And then he stops right in front of me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
Up close he looks more tense than usual. His shoulders are tight, jaw set in a way that tells me he’s been thinking too much.
Scout pressure.
He shifts his weight slightly on his skates like he’s trying to figure out how to say something.
Then he clears his throat.
“Uh… I just wanted to say thanks.”
I blink.
“For what?”
“For last game.” He gestures vaguely toward the goal. “Those passes. How you helped me out.”
Oh.
“That’s my job.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says quickly. “But still.”
His voice is quieter now, almost lost under the noise of warm-ups at the other end of the ice.
“This whole Showcase thing… it means a lot.”
I nod once. I know. Probably more than he thinks.
“If we win tonight…” he continues, “that’s-”
He pauses, finding the right word.
“Big.”
“Yeah.”
The puck clatters against the boards somewhere behind us.
“Even if we don’t make it,” he says, “I’m glad you’re here.”
