Page 98 of Puck Me Back to Life

Then he nods. “Okay.”

Coach heads toward the hallway. Kai follows. The office door closes behind them.

I stare at it.

Something feels wrong. I don't know why. Maybe it's the cuts. Maybe it's the look on his face. Maybe it's because I'm paying too much attention to him lately. Whatever the reason, unease settles heavily in my chest. Five minutes pass. Then seven. The locker room continues buzzing around me.

I don't hear a word of it.

The office door finally opens. Kai steps out. And immediately every protective instinct I possess roars to life. He looks like he just saw a ghost. The color has drained completely from his face. His eyes are wide. Unfocused.

For a second, he simply stands there. Then he starts walking. Not toward his stall. Not toward the showers. Just walking. Like he's forgotten where he is.

My stomach drops. I don't think I just move.

“Kai.”

He doesn't stop.

“Kai.”

This time he blinks. Like he's only just realized I'm there. I catch his arm and steer him into the hallway before anyone else can see him.

The second we're alone, I turn toward him. “What happened?”

Kai swallows. For a moment, I don't think he's going to answer.

Then he finally speaks, though it’s barely above a whisper. “Grove.”

I stare at him. “What?”

Kai's eyes close briefly When they open again, they're shining.

“That's who they're trading for.” The hallway suddenly feels very quiet. “Noah Grove.”

The name lands like a punch.

I understand too well. Because Noah Grove isn't some random player. He's William's younger brother. And in two days, if the trade goes through, Kai will have to walk into a locker room every morning and face a living reminder of the worst day of his life.

Kai's breathing starts to quicken. His hands tremble slightly at his sides. The panic is building. I can see it happening.

“Kai.”

His eyes dart toward mine.

“Kai. Look at me.”

Nothing. He's spiraling and fast.

I step closer. “Look at me.”

This time he does.

“Good boy. You’re alright.” I keep my voice calm. Steady. The same way I'd talk to somebody standing on a ledge. “Take a breath.”

He tries. Fails. Tries again.

I wait.