Like I almost didn't lose it. My chest tightens again, but this time it’s different. Not pressure. Something heavier but better. Gratitude.
I’m fucking thankful for this. For the opportunity. For Cora to care enough not to give up on me, even when I was already planning my escape. For Coach Knight. For Coach Banks.
And for Oliver.
He skates over and stands on the edge, waiting for the team to disperse. When there’s a space, he taps my helmet.
“Good game. But you’re going down tomorrow.” He smiles at me like there’s no bad blood. Like he’s really okay after coming clean about that night. It hits me in the chest, harder than I expect.
I pull him in a quick hug, tapping my helmet to his.
Oliver claps me on the back and asks, “Any chance you want to hang out? Get some late dinner or something? My dad would love it.” Healmost can’t look at me—the clear tell he thinks I’m going to say no. “But if you have plans with the guys—”
Shaking my head, I interrupt, “No plans. Let’s do it. Just let me get cleaned up.”
Thegamefadesfasterthan I expect. By the time I’m out of the shower and in the hallway, it’s like everything’s already behind me.
Except Cora, and how she showed up for me.
No one’s perfect, not even Cora. But if this has taught me anything, it’s about what happens next. After the wrong decision or choice, that’s when people show you who they really are.
People can give up. Leave you behind. Or they can stay.
Guess I’m not used to the last option.
I drag a hand through my damp hair, bag slung over my shoulder as I step farther down the hall.
There she is.
She’s leaning against the wall, a few feet from the exit. Not scrolling her phone. Not talking to anyone. Just… waiting.
For me.
Her hands are tucked into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, shoulders pulled in like she’s trying to make herself smaller. When her eyes lift and meet mine, there’s something there I don’t expect.
Not relief, not even happiness, but almost like she’s bracing for what comes next.
My chest tightens. There are no words, even if I dug to the deepest part of me. I just drop my bag and walk straight to her. She barely has time to push off the wall before I’m there, pulling her in and lifting her clean offthe ground. She lets out a soft sound—half laugh, half surprise—as her arms come up around my shoulders, holding on.
I bury my face against her neck for a second, breathing her in like I need to make sure she’s actually here.
“Hey,” she says quietly, like she’s not sure if she should say more.
I set her back down, but I don’t let her go. My hands slide to her waist, keeping her close.
“Hey.”
Cora’s eyes flick over my face, like she’s checking something, making sure I’m okay. And I realize she probably hasn’t stopped doing that since the game ended.
“I—” she starts, then stops herself, shaking her head a little. “I didn’t know if I should wait or…”
She trails off.
“I’m glad you did,” I reassure her.
Her shoulders drop a fraction at that, the tension easing just enough for me to notice.
“Good,” she says, softer now.
