“That’s nice to hear.”
We stood side by side, washing our hands.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Simone asked, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror.
The question hung in the air between us.
A completely innocent smile crossed her face. Just being friendly to the coach’s daughter who probably seemed lonely. I was always working and in the press box by myself.
“No.” The lie came out smooth. “I don’t really have the time for it with the season starting.”
“I get that. Fedor and I barely saw each other his first few years in the league.” She dried her hands with a paper towel. “But you should make time when you can. This job will eat your whole life if you let it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She left, and I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection.
Someone was going to notice eventually. Maybe they already had. Simone’s question may not have been as innocent as it seemed. And I was probably being paranoid, but paranoid was the appropriate response for a person hiding something this big.
I left the bathroom, heading back to collect my gear from the press box.
The other video analyst, Mark, was still there. He’d been with the team two years longer than me. He sat at his usual station, reviewing footage on his tablet.
He looked up when I entered. “Good game.”
“Yeah.”
“Your defensive zone package was spot on. That power play kill was textbook.”
“Thanks.”
He returned his attention to his screen, pulling up a sequence. “I noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time on Nosh’s footage.”
My hands froze on my laptop bag. “He’s new. I’m building his baseline.”
“Right.” Mark didn’t look up. “Makes sense. Gotta understand the tendencies.”
Everything about the exchange was completely professional, but it still felt like I was being exposed.
“I’m compiling the post-game breakdown now,” I said. “I should have it to the coaches within the hour.”
“Same. See you tomorrow.”
I grabbed my bag and left the press box, taking the stairs down to the main level. Most of the crowd had already made it out to the parking lots. Staff moved through the corridors, cleaning up the debris that came with almost twenty thousand people crammed into one space.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mark’s comment and Simone’s question and the way Tolrek had looked up at me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from my father. Great work tonight.That power play breakdown was perfect.
Thanks, Dad.
Three dots appeared and disappeared twice.
Then nothing.
On Wednesday morning, I arrived at the rink early to finish the breakdown from Tuesday’s game. The analyst office was empty and quiet, exactly the way I needed it.
I sat, turned on my computer, and pulled up Tolrek’s sequences first.
