Game day.
Finn is dressed.
Full equipment, standing in the warmup prep area like a man who has made a decision and is daring anyone to challenge it.
Maren has cleared him for limited minutes. No heavy contact if he can avoid it. Not penalty kill. No extended shifts. No hero shift if the bench gets short and the room starts pretending adrenaline is medical clearance.
Finn nodded when she said it.
He did not say okay.
I watch him lace his left skate from across the room and run the list of things I am currently managing.
Finn’s dignity.
Maren’s limits.
Silas’s information requests.
Evan’s eyes, which have not stopped watching all week.
The look on Peyton’s face when I said no in the tunnel.
No had been true.
No had also been easy.
That is the part I keep coming back to.
I did not tell Peyton Finn was fine. I did not tell her there was nothing to see. I told her no because she asked whether there was anything happening with Finn she should know about, and the technical answer let me stand there with a clean mouth and dirty hands.
Finn is not her source.
Finn is not a line in her story.
Finn is also not invisible just because I want him protected.
Maren steps into the room with her tablet tucked under one arm. She does not look at me first. Good. She looks at Finn.
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Headache?”
“No.”
“You are answering too fast.”
Finn’s jaw tightens. “No, slower.”
Colt makes a noise from his stall.
Maren does not look away from Finn. “Funny does not make you cleared.”
