“I’m fine,” I snap, more irritated at myself than him.
The whistle blows, and we break into drills. Line changes, power plays, defensive formations. The rest of the team moves around us in organized chaos, but my mind keeps drifting.
It’s been three days since that incident at the park. Since Ethan wandered off and that infuriating nurse found him. Since I saw that bruise on her face and felt the beast try to claw its way out of my skin.
I haven’t thought about her since.
Liar.
Coach’s assistant blows the whistle again, calling for a scrimmage. The team divides, and I find myself on a line with Samuel and Brody. We play hard, the kind of physical exertion that usually clears my head. Today it does nothing.
By the time practice ends, I’m sweating and breathing hard but no less distracted than when I started.
The locker room is loud with post-practice banter. Players strip off gear, talking about tonight’s plans, ribbing each other about missed shots. I head to my section, tuning most of it out.
Samuel, Eric, Brody, and Josh gravitate toward their lockers near mine. We’ve been playing together for years, and we know each other’s rhythms on and off the ice. The rest of the team filters out in groups, headed for showers or already making plans for the night.
I’m pulling off my gear when I realize something’s missing.
My keychain.
The small teddy bear that’s been on my gym bag for the last four years. Gabriel had it attached to his locker key back when he played on this team. After he died, I took it. I have other things of his: a watch he never wore, some old hockey jerseys, photographs. But this is different. This was something he carried every single day, touched before every practice, every game. Something small and worn that meant enough to keep on his locker key.
My chest tightens. It means more than all the rest combined.
And now I can’t find it.
I tear through my bag, checking every pocket, every compartment. Nothing.
“Looking for something?” Eric asks, already dressed and ready to leave. The locker room has emptied out significantly, just a handful of guys left.
“My keychain. The little bear one. You seen it?”
He shakes his head. “Not today. When did you have it last?”
“I thought I left it in my locker.” I stand up, scanning the bench and floor. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Samuel pauses in pulling on his jacket. “Where did you see it last?”
“I definitely had it on me after we were returning from the match that night of the collision.”
Josh, who’s been quietly packing his gear, snaps his fingers. “What if you dropped it at the hospital?”
My stomach drops. “The hospital.”
Brody whistles low. “That was over a week ago, man. It’s probably long gone by now.”
The thought makes something feral snarl inside me. No. Not this. I’ve already lost Gabriel. I can’t lose this too.
“Maybe not.” Josh shrugs. “Hospitals have lost and found departments, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” I’m already grabbing my bag and shoving my gear inside. “Yeah, they do.”
“You’re leaving?” Samuel looks surprised. “I thought we were all heading to my place to get shit-faced.”
“Unlike you losers, I have a child to take care of,” I throw over my shoulder. A helmet comes flying, and I duck before it hits me, grinning.
“Come on, losers,” Samuel snickers. “More for us.”
