She watches me while she asks it, as if this is just another interview. I guess it is to her. It shouldn’t rattle me, but it does. Taking a hit on the ice is easier than letting her see me feeling weak.
I breathe slowly before answering, picking my words carefully.
“Hardest part’s feeling like I’m letting the team down,” I admit. “But I’m doing everything the trainers tell me. I’ll be back when they say it’s safe.”
Frankie gives a tiny, encouraging nod and scrolls to the next question.
“How do you think the team will bounce back after the last two seasons’ record?”
I tighten my hand into a fist on my thigh. “We’re stronger than the stats show. We’re hungry. And wewantit more this year.“ I emphasize my words, trying to say something else for only her.
She says nothing, just nods and scrolls, but something in her shoulders shifts. She wasn’t expecting that answer.
Frankie asks a few more questions about our rookies, the new coaching staff, and the adjustments we’ve made in practice.
The background noise fades. It’s just her and me for a few minutes, and it’s easy to forget about the interview.
When we finish, Doug checks the playback on the camera and nods. “Solid. Thanks, Wes.”
I push to my feet, careful of my arm, and glance at Doug. “If you’re not in a rush, you should come to dinner. We’re all heading back to our house.”
Doug packs away the lights and collapses the tripod. “Thanks, but the wife’s making lasagna tonight. If I miss it, she’ll kill me. Are you going there, Fran?”
Frankie taps something into her tablet. “Yeah, Doug, you can leave once you pack up. I’ll order a—”
Before she can finish, Ford steps forward. “If you need a ride,” he jerks his thumb toward the parking lot. “We can take you to our house and then drop you off wherever you want. It’s no problem. We just need to get showers first.”
Frankie hesitates. A fine sheen of sweat clings to her forehead, catching the overhead lights. “Sure. Thank you.” She shifts her weight, bracing one hand against the back of a chair.
I step closer without thinking. “You okay?”
She flashes a weak smile. “Fine. I just need the restroom real quick. Take your time getting changed.”
Her voice holds, but her body doesn’t. The chair shifts under her grip. Her knees almost give before she catches herself. My gut twists. She’s holding it together by a thread, and nobody else notices.
I do.
If she falls, I want to be close enough to catch her. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, we’ll always be close enough to keep her from falling.
Chapter 6
The guys’ house wraps around me, like a blanket straight out of the dryer the second I step inside. The air is thick with clove. It’s all over, underscored by hints of pine, mint, rain, and smoke. It makes my knees weak.
I hope they won’t give.
My fingers toy with the necklace hidden under my turtleneck. At this point, it’s the only thing holding me together as I follow them into the living room.
Ford motions with his arm. “Come on, we’ll give you the tour.”
I dip my chin in a shallow nod. My heartbeat whooshes in my ears. I shouldn’t have said yes to coming here, but I couldn’t resist the pull. I wanted to spend time with my old friends.
We start at the main floor, where a sprawling brown leather couch and two Lazy Boy chairs face a wall-mounted TV, and agiant pea-green beanbag slouches in the corner. Shelves line one wall, cluttered with dusty trophies, battered paperbacks, and photos tucked into mismatched frames.
The guest bathroom sits wedged by the stairs, its door cracked just enough to see folded towels and a clean counter inside.
To the right of the living room stands the kitchen, open wide and welcoming. The cabinets, painted a warm off-white, show their age around the handles, the paint worn from years of use.
A brown-wood island takes up the center, stools arranged around it.
