We won the game. Barely.

Let’s just say Coach did not look thrilled about our “nail-biter victory that shouldn’t have been a nail-biter.” His words. Not mine. Personally, I thought a win was a win, even if it came with the same energy as me trying to carry grocery bags in one trip—messy, chaotic, but technically successful.

The locker room still smelled like victory mixed with sweat and body spray some guy drowned himself in. Liam was chirping Cameron about almost letting in that last goal, Cameron fired right back about Liam missing an open net, and the whole thing felt familiar—comfortable. Even Xavier, who wasn’t on the team but had shown up to support, stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, giving me his classic “do better” face.

“Relax, dad,”

I said, tossing my gloves in my bag.

“We won.”

“And you played like you ate concrete for breakfast,”

he replied.

I grabbed my towel, leaning back on the bench. My shoulders were sore, my skates had rubbed a new blister into existence, and my lungs still burned from the last penalty kill. But hell, I loved it. Hockey had been my constant since before I could tie my own shoes. Even a rough game made me feel like myself again.

The guys filtered out one by one, plans for food and showers and sleep overlapping in the hallway. I lingered, taking my time—partly because my gear smelled so bad I was afraid to rush and make it angry.

Finally, I slung my duffel over my shoulder and headed down the hallway toward the exit. My stomach growled loud enough to echo. Great. Now Xavier’s going to say I’m “malnourished,” which is his way of telling me to stop inhaling junk food.

I rounded the corner—at full speed, because I apparently believe hallways are racetracks—and crashed straight into someone.

My bag slipped. The person gasped. Something clattered to the floor.

“Holy—sorry!”

I blurted, reaching out instinctively to steady them before I even saw who it was.

“I swear I don’t normally body-check strangers off the ice.”

I finally looked up into a pair of eyes I’d never seen before. And for a moment—my brain forgot how to breathe.