Page 111 of Puck Me Back to Life

Still nothing.

The little “Delivered” beneath the message never changes.

I tell myself he's driving. Then I remember his apartment is only fifteen minutes from the arena.

A different thought occurs to me. Maybe he went home… and couldn't make himself come back.

The possibility sits heavily in my chest.

Practice begins.

It passes in a blur.

Noah skates well.

Solid edges.

Good positioning.

A dependable second-pair defenseman by the look of him.

Nothing flashy. Nothing that makes the coaches whistle in appreciation. William had possessed that rare quality where the game seemed to slow down around him. He saw passing lanes before anyone else. He dictated pace without appearing to try.

Noah doesn't. He's a different player entirely—reliable, steady, workmanlike. Which leaves me wondering why management wanted him badly enough to bring him here. Of every team in the league…Why this one? Why this locker room? The question lingers throughout practice.

I barely register the drills. Every whistle pulls my attention toward the empty spot where Kai should be. Every break finds me checking my phone. Still nothing. By the time Coach dismisses us, I've sent three texts.

None answered.

The locker room gradually fills with the familiar sounds of equipment hitting the floor and showers starting in the background. I sit down heavily at my stall.

For a long moment, I simply stare across the aisle Kai's locker looks exactly the way he left it yesterday. His water bottle tucked beneath the bench.

The sight bothers me more than it should. I stand and walk over. Without really thinking about it, I pick up the water bottle. He'll forget it otherwise. He's always forgetting little things.

The thought almost makes me smile.

Footsteps echo behind me. I look up to see Noah walking by. His eyes linger on the empty locker for barely a second.

Then, so quietly I almost think I've imagined it, he mutters, “Fucking coward.”

I straighten immediately. “What did you say?”

The entire room seems to pause.

Noah turns. His expression remains calm. “I didn't say anything.”

“You did.”

He shrugs. “I just think it's convenient.”

The words are measured. Controlled. “Funny how Hayes suddenly gets sick today.”

The protective instinct that rises inside me is so immediate it almost surprises me.

Heat rushes through my chest. Every muscle in my body tightens. “You don't know a damn thing about him.”

Noah's expression hardens. “I know my brother's dead.”