Page 323 of Power Play

Briggs noticed but didn’t say anything.

I forced myself to stand and skated toward the gate. My legs ached beneath me, heavy from the hour I had spent trying to outrun something living inside my body.

Three messages from Chris waited on the phone.

Chris: Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, and Washington confirmed for Saturday.

Chris: Conversations after. Nothing guaranteed. Play first.

The third followed.

Chris: Whatever happened tonight, handle it before you put on skates for conditioning tomorrow. Scouts can smell stupid.

I stared at the messages.

Saturday. Scouts. Washington.

The future I had spent years building remained exactly where I left it that morning. It didn’t care that Charm was gone. The NHL wouldn’t pause while I learned how to live without her.

Briggs stepped through the gate behind me. “Chris?”

I nodded.

“Scouts still coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you play?”

I looked toward the empty net. “Hockey existed before her. It’ll exist after.”

Briggs waited. He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he let me have it.

We removed our skates in silence. My hands were scraped, with one knuckle split open despite the gloves. My ribs would bruise where Briggs drove me into the boards, and the left side of his jaw had already started swelling.

Physical damage made sense. It would change color, ache for several days, and disappear.

Everything Charm touched felt permanent.

“You staying at my apartment?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“The couch sucks.”

“I’ve slept on locker-room floors.”

“Because you’re an animal.”

“That has been established.”

Briggs finished tying his shoes and reached for his bag. I didn’t thank him, and he didn’t expect me to.

We gathered our gear and started through the tunnel, our footsteps echoing against the concrete. Halfway to the exit, I stopped.