Page 8 of Offside

"It's at your feet, Callahan," Luca said.

"Proximity doesn't establish ownership."

Luca looked at him, and Theo picked up the towel, laughing.

Nico sat in Kieran's stall while Kieran stripped off his pads. Their knees touched in the narrow space. Kieran passed him a bottle of water.

Hayes had a legal pad braced on one thigh and was collecting names for our next Korean barbecue.

"Saturday, November seventeenth, after Nashville," he said when he reached me. "You're coming."

"That a question?" I asked.

"Nope. Are you going to argue?" Hayes held the pen over the page.

"Do you want me to?"

"Not even a little." He wrote my name before I could change my mind, then he turned to look at my D partner. "Garrett?"

Garrett was unwinding the tape from his left wrist. He pulled another turn of tape loose and turned to me. "If Bishop is coming."

"Good. We're getting somewhere," Hayes said, writing Garrett's name next to mine.

Hayes moved to Volkov.

"Two seats," Volkov said. He held up two fingers.

"For who?"

"For me. I need extra food."

At the far end of the row, Morrison was working at one skate lace with his head down. Somebody called congratulations on the penalty kill. He answered something too quietly for me to catch.

Declan caught it though, and his laugh came out of his chest. It wasn't the brief breath he gave Volkov when a complaint got too ambitious. This laugh was open, a full sound before he remembered the rest of the room was there. His head tipped back. The smile changed his whole face.

I had my jersey halfway over my head and stopped with my right arm still in the sleeve. The shoulder didn't catch. Nothing hurt. I'd simply forgotten what I was doing.

Declan looked up and found me watching him. The smile stayed for another second before he picked up his tablet and came down the row.

"Good third," he said when he reached my stall.

"You were watching?" I asked.

"Most of it. You gave up the blue line once."

I kept my right arm loose beside me. "By choice."

"I know." He set the tablet on the edge of the stall. "How does it feel?"

"Used," I said.

He rested one hand on the tablet. "Any weakness after the shot block?"

"No. It hit the hip."

His attention shifted to the shoulder. "Any catch on the clear?"

"I didn't reach for it."