"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Erikson deadpanned, but he was grinning too.
Coach raised his hand, quieting the room again. "Callahan's worked his ass off to get back here. Let's make sure his return counts. Game prep at nine tomorrow. Don't be late."
As the guys dispersed to the showers, Martinez pulled me aside.
"You good with this?" he asked, his voice lower. "Be straight with me. No heroics if you're not ready."
"I'm ready," I said without hesitation. "Been ready for weeks."
"That's what I wanted to hear." He clapped my shoulder. "The team needs you back, Stone. Not just your playing—your leadership."
The words hit deeper than I expected. Six months ago, I would've brushed them off. Hockey was hockey. But something had shifted during my recovery, during those long conversations with Kate about purpose and identity.
"Thanks, Coach," I said simply.
After showering and changing, I declined the guys' invitation to grab beers, too eager to get home. To Kate.
"Look at you, rushing home to the old ball and chain," Dennis teased as I headed for the door.
"Better than the bar's sticky floors and your ugly mug," I shot back.
"She's good for you, man," Dennis said, his tone shifting to something unexpectedly sincere. "You're less of an uptight asshole these days."
"High praise."
"I mean it. You seem... I don't know. Happier? Like hockey isn't the only thing keeping you breathing anymore."
I paused, considering his words. "Maybe it's not."
"Careful, Stone. That's dangerously close to emotional growth." Dennis grinned, ruining the moment in his typical fashion. "Tell Kate she's welcome at team events anytime. The guys are still talking about how she explained bacterial warfare using hockey metaphors."
The drive home was a blur, my mind racing between tomorrow's game and the woman waiting at home. I'd spent years keeping these worlds separate—hockey in one box, personal life (what little I had) in another. Kate had somehow merged them, making each richer for the connection.
When I unlocked the door to my apartment—our apartment now, really—I was greeted by the familiar chaos that announced Kate's presence. Papers spread across the coffee table and floor in what she called her "thinking pattern," three half-empty coffee mugs creating rings I would have onceobsessed over, and her laptop balanced precariously on the arm of the couch.
And there in the middle of it all was Kate, hair piled in that messy bun, glasses sliding down her nose, wearing one of my Blizzard t-shirts that hung to mid-thigh on her smaller frame. She was muttering to herself about plasmid transfers, completely unaware I'd entered.
Six months ago, this scene would have triggered my need to clean, organize, control. Now it made my chest ache with something too big to name.
"Please tell me those coffee mugs aren't from three separate days," I said, closing the door behind me.
Kate's head snapped up, her face transforming with a smile that hit me like a body check. "They're from three separate hours, thank you very much. I have standards."
She scrambled up, navigating through her paper maze to reach me. When she rose on tiptoes to kiss me, I caught her against me, breathing in her scent—vanilla shampoo mixed with the faint antiseptic smell that always clung to her after lab days.
"How was practice?" she asked against my lips.
"I'm playing tomorrow," I said, unable to keep the news to myself any longer. "Second pairing, power play unit one."
Kate pulled back, her eyes widening. "Austin! That's amazing!" She threw her arms around my neck, nearly knocking us both over with her enthusiasm. "I knew you'd be back before their original timeline. Your healing rates have been exceptional."
I laughed, lifting her off her feet in a bear hug. "Only you would get excited about my healing rates."
"Well, they are scientifically fascinating," she replied, completely serious. "The rate of collagen deposition in your reconstructed ligament?—"
I cut her off with another kiss, deeper this time. When we broke apart, both breathless, she smacked my chest lightly.
"Don't interrupt me when I'm being scientifically accurate about your knee."
