Page 105 of Lose You Twice

I stare at the message before locking my phone.

Nope.

The third period starts with absolute chaos.

The other team ties it on a deflection that Asher never sees. PCU answers by playing faster, but fast can get desperate if no one controls it.

That’s where Kai comes in. I can see him doing it shift by shift. Talking on the bench, tapping Weston’s shin with his stick when Weston gets too heated. Catching Grayson’s eye after a bad bounce. Even saying something to Coleson that makes the guy roll his shoulders and actually finish a hit clean.

He carries so much.

I knew that before, though I didn’t understand it. Not really.

At home, I carry things because if I don’t, someone smaller than me might drop them. Kai carries things because everyone keeps handing them to him, and he keeps proving he can hold more.

Maybe that’s why we used to fit.

Or maybe that’s why we broke.

With four minutes left, Kai jumps over the boards onto the ice.

The shift starts in the defensive zone. Faceoff to his left. He crouches low, one hand loose on his stick, eyes locked on the puck. The arena noise fades in that weird way it does when something important is about to happen.

The puck drops.

Kai wins it.

PCU breaks out fast. Grayson up the wall. Weston cutting through neutral ice. Kai trailing, then accelerating like someone pulled a wire tight. The pass comes back to him just inside the blue line, and for half a second, he has no lane.

Then he makes one.

He cuts around the defenseman, shoulder low, puck tight, and everything in my body stops. The goalie drops. Kai pulls left, waits a breath longer than feels possible, then snaps the puck high.

Top corner.

The rink detonates.

The horn blares. The student section loses its mind. Weston crashes into him first, then Grayson, then half the line. Kai disappears under gloves and helmets and bodies, but I see enough.

He turns back toward the bench, his eyes finding mine. The smile on his face is real. Proud.

Across the noise. Across all of it.

My throat tightens so hard it almost hurts.

I should look away. I don’t.

PCU wins 2–1.

The locker room after a win is a different animal. Louder, for sure, full of adrenaline and bad music. I stay near the equipment side with Donnelly until enough players are changed or mostly decent, then push the laundry cart through to collect towels and jerseys.

Weston is still in half his gear, towel around his neck. “Be honest,” he says when I pass. “Who was more impressive today, me or Kai?”

“Well, Kai didn’t get benched for not listening to Coach, so…”

Asher, already showered, walks by with his suit jacket over one arm. “You sat on the bench for the last minute because Coach told you not to move.”

I toss a towel into the cart. “I’m with Asher. He pretty much put you in timeout.”