“That’s so cool! Very specialized skill set.” She nods enthusiastically.
“Which one’s yours?” she asks, abruptly changing topics while looking intensely at the ice like she’s studying for a test.
“Tyson. Dark hair, number twelve.”
“Right! The one Brody mentioned. Says he’s really improved lately.” She pauses, then adds with obviously forced casualness, “Dex thinks so too, apparently.”
My pulse jumps slightly at his name, which she definitely notices because her eyes sharpen with interest.
“He’s been very encouraging,” I manage.
“Has he? That’s great. Really great.” Elliot nods like I’ve just revealed the secret to world peace. “He’s so good with kids. Very patient. Especially lately. Brody says he’s been showing up to practices even when he’s not scheduled. Just to help out. Which is weird for him. Not weird bad! Just... different.”
She’s talking faster now, like she’s nervous.
“Different how?”
“Oh, you know. Dex usually has a pretty busy social calendar. Lots of...” She waves her hand vaguely. “Things. But lately he’s been turning stuff down to focus on coaching. Brody can’t figure out why.”
“Maybe he just enjoys working with the kids.”
“Maybe!” Elliot’s agreement is a little too loud. “Or maybe something happened that made him want to be around the rink more. Something inspiring. Or someone inspiring. Not that I’m suggesting anything specific happened. Just making conversation about... inspiration.”
I stare at her. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m great! Totally normal. Just making friendly hockey mom chat.” She takes a large gulp of coffee. “So anyway, that charity game. What a disaster, right? Did you stick around to watch?”
“We had to—Tyson was on the bench with the youth team.”
“Right, of course! So you saw the whole... performance.” She’s leaning forward now, clearly invested in my answer. “Did you notice anything weird? About the team? About how they played?”
“I don’t really know enough about hockey to judge.”
“Not the hockey part. Just... general weirdness. Like, did anyone seem distracted? Unfocused? Like maybe something had affected their concentration?”
“I really wouldn’t know?—“
“Because Brody said it was the worst game he’d ever played,” Elliot interrupts, her attempt at casual completely abandoned. “Like someone had scrambled their brains. Especially Dex. He couldn’t make a pass to save his life.”
I think about how he looked after I finished singing. The confusion in his expression.
“Maybe they were just having an off night?” I suggest.
“Maybe. Or maybe something specific happened right before the game that threw them off.” She’s watching my face intently now. “Something beautiful and unexpected that completely changed the energy in the building.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A really incredible performance of the national anthem, maybe?”
The way she says it makes it clear this isn’t a casual observation.
“You think my singing affected how they played hockey?” I ask, incredulous.
“I think,” Elliot says carefully, “that sometimes when something takes your breath away, it’s hard to get your focus back.”
We stare at each other for a moment. She’s clearly fishing for something, and I’m clearly not giving her what she wants, and we both know it.
“Anyway,” she says finally, standing as practice winds down, “this was fun. Very enlightening. I should probably go find Brody before he starts wondering why I’m interrogating the voice-over lady.”
