Page 152 of Rookie Rules

Rowan opened the game tablet after the door closed. He marked the failed reversal, Luca's power-play pass, his own late route on the final chance, and three shifts where their spacing had survived despite the silence. The clips formed no simple indictment.

He sent the timestamps to Vale with two notes: ENTRY TIMING and CENTER SUPPORT. He did not attach Luca's name to either correction. Tomorrow's work would address the line in the room, through the coach, with the same evidence available to everyone.

The restraint did not make Rowan noble. It made the next professional action clean, which was the only repair available to him tonight.

At home, the kitchen held no evidence Luca had ever occupied it. No glass beside the sink. No bright jacket over the chair. Rowan had designed the rules to guarantee exactly that.

He opened the refrigerator and found the chili oil Luca had bought because Rowan's food, in Luca's judgment, feared joy. It stood between mustard and a container of prepared vegetables, ridiculous and red.

Rowan closed the door without taking anything.

The house settled around him. Pipes clicked. The heating system started. His phone remained silent on the counter.

He had believed privacy meant nothing could be taken from him because nothing visible had changed.

The team still saw a captain. The press still saw a dangerous line. His home looked exactly as it had before Luca arrived.

Only then did Rowan understand the scale of the loss.

The rules had worked.

They had removed Luca so completely that Rowan was left with no proof of happiness except its absence.

Chapter 24: The Empty Room

Luca woke at five forty-seven because no one was beside him.

That was irrational. Rowan had never slept in Luca's apartment. Their nights had belonged to Rowan's controlled house, where the neighbors were distant and every room could keep a secret.

Still, Luca reached across the mattress before he was fully awake.

His hand found cold sheets.

He lay still until the heating pipes knocked inside the wall. The apartment had once felt temporary in an exciting way: rented furniture, unopened boxes, a city waiting beyond the glass. Now it felt like a room no one had chosen to enter.

His phone held no message from Rowan.

It held seven from other people. Claire had sent a Boreal schedule. His mother had sent a photograph of the family dog asleep beneath Luca's old jersey. Jace had sent a video of Eli attempting to pronounce the name of a French restaurant and accidentally requesting a shoe.

Luca answered none of them.

Then he saw the time, saw what his mind was trying to turn silence into, and got out of bed.

At six ten he made coffee. At six twenty he opened the team video portal. At six twenty-three the final shift of the previous night's loss filled his television.

He could have watched the pass miss Rowan's blade until pain became punishment. Instead he started ninety seconds earlier.

Finn protected the puck below the line. Nolan moved high. Luca rotated through the right circle. Rowan held the left post.

The structure was correct.

Luca froze the frame when the shooting lane opened. The defenseman's weight had shifted toward him. Rowan's stick was available beyond the goalie's sightline. The pass was the better decision.

His delivery had been six inches behind the target.

He rewound.

The error appeared before the puck left his blade. Luca looked at Rowan for confirmation instead of reading the space. One glance. Less than half a second. Enough to alter his hands.