A few heads turned. Grady’s did, too—wide-eyed, mouth half-open, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.
Coop smirked as he skated past. "What, you develop a death wish overnight?"
I snorted. "Nah. Just figured I should play with the guy who made me skate faster than I have in weeks."
Grady finally found his voice. "You sure about that?"
The coaches didn’t hesitate. "Fine. You two work the rush. Coop, round out the line."
Coop clapped Grady on the shoulder as they skated toward me. "Guess you’re stuck with us, buddy."
Grady shook his head, muttering something under his breath, but he didn’t argue.
I shifted my stick in my hands, taking a steady breath.This was exactly where I wanted to be.
***
The end of scrimmage days always feel the same. Heavy legs.
I skated toward the boards, pulling my helmet off and running a hand through my damp hair. The ice had felt right. So had the shifts. I liked having Grady on my line.
A couple of guys glided past, tapping gloves against mine. Movement near the benches caught my eye. The coaches. Ryan. A couple of assistants. Talking.
Then, one of them glanced over, then gave a slight nod, toward the office This was either really good or really bad.
I skated toward the tunnel, pulling my gloves off. Whatever this was, I could handle it. I rolled my shoulders, exhaling as I stepped off the ice. Let’s hear it.
I stepped into the coach’s office. Adrenaline had been settling after the scrimmage. I think I just felt another jolt.
Ryan was here, leaning against the desk. The head coach sat behind it, fingers laced together, watching me with the kind of measured calm that meant something big was coming.
I sat down across from him, gripping my gloves in one hand, waiting.
He didn’t waste time.
"I have some news for you," he said, tone even. "I think you’ll be happy—you’re going back up."
Going up.
That’s what I wanted. That’s what I’d been fighting for. Why do I feel like I just won and lost Game 7 of the Stanley Cup simultaneously?
I nodded slowly, the words settling it. "That is great news."
I can’t believe it. It's happening. I mean, I know I worked hard and earned this. But for a while, I wasn’t sure. I felt like I kept getting knocked down, that maybe I would never get a second chance.
I was already thinking ahead—imagining telling Riley and how she’d react.
Would she smile? Would she say something sharp but warm, making it seem like she wasn’t just proud of me, but happy?
Would she give me a big hug? Would she kiss me?
The coach kept going, voice steady. "There was an injury—Trevor’s out for the season.”
The thrill—the energy that came with hearing I was going up— was still there. But I was beginning to feel something else creep in.
I wasn’t just moving up. I was leaving.
I nodded again, but only half-heard him. Trevor. Injury. Opportunity.
