I clear my throat. “How long are you in town?”
Frankie shifts her weight from one foot to the other without looking at me. “I live over in Dellum, so not far from here. But my company has me travel all over. You’ll be seeing me around for the season, maybe not all of it, but a good portion. And if you guys make the playoffs, then, too.”
Shit, she’s been that close this whole time?
Here we thought she moved states. Maybe she did and came back, that’s why we could never find a mention of a Frankie anywhere. I huff a quiet laugh before I can stop it.
Her eyes flick to the ice, where Ford and Logan are racing through a shooting drill, shouting and laughing. The puck rattles off the boards. They jostle each other, trash-talking loud enough to carry all the way to the glass.
I turn my attention back to her. “Long time to put up with us.”
“Yeah, well.” She smiles a little, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “The time with you guys will be worth it.”
The words hit like a puck to the ribs. Why does it sound so final? As if after all is said and done, she won’t be sticking around.
“I’m glad we make the cut.”
Frankie glances at me and swallows down whatever she wants to say.
“If you aren’t busy after here.” I step in before the moment can slip away. “You should have dinner with us... You and Doug.”
I don’t want him there, but if it makes her more comfortable.
She hesitates, the tension visible in her shoulders.Then she nods. “Yeah. Okay. That sounds nice.”
The tightness in my chest eases just a little.
I don’t care how long it takes to convince her.She’s back, and I’m not losing her again.
Practice ends with a blast of the whistle. The team claps each other on the backs as they skate toward the benches, their blades rasping loudly over the ice.
Frankie and Doug set up a makeshift interview area near the bleachers, a backdrop of the team’s logo pinned behind a row of folding chairs. Doug adjusts the camera settings while Frankie checks the light.
One by one, the team and the guys take their turns.
Ford steps up first, answering every question with an easy confidence that fills the space.
Logan goes next, calm and chill, tossing relaxed, thoughtful answers toward Frankie like he’s having a conversation with an old friend.
Jace cracks jokes through half of his interview, making Doug groan and Frankie laugh under her breath.
Finally, it’s my turn.
I settle into the folding chair, squaring my shoulders. My stomach knots. I don’t like being in front of a camera, never have. Even though my stutter faded years ago, sometimes when I am nervous, it tries to creep back in. I force myself to breathe steadily. The sling across my chest pulls a little when I move, but I hide the grimace.
Frankie steps closer. She meets my eyes.
“Just be natural.” She points to herself, her voice low and even. “Look at me, not the camera.”
I nod.
“Okay. First question.” She scrolls through her tablet. “Can you walk us through how you got injured and how serious it is?”
I shift, trying to shake the tension from my shoulders. “Took a bad hit during a scrimmage game, slammed into the boards wrong. Tore a tendon. Not bad enough for surgery, but I’m sidelined for a few more weeks.”
Frankie nods, her face softening.
“How has the injury affected your mindset coming into the season?”
