Page 29 of Slapshot Baby

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

They all settle into positions around the room like a defensive formation, everyone angled toward me, watching without being obvious about it.

"So," Wyatt says, still chewing. "On a scale of one to ten, how weird is it that we're all strangers to you?"

"Wyatt," Easton says.

"I'm asking what everyone wants to ask."

"You're asking what you want to ask. The rest of us have tact."

Wyatt waves a hand, unbothered.

I look at them. Four men who know me better than I know myself right now.

"I remember some of you. Easton from his rookie season. Theo from before that. The rest is blank."

Theo takes it with a slow nod. Jordan's hand tightens on the bed rails once then relaxes.

"Do you remember winning the cup?" Easton asks.

"No."

"Two years ago at game seven, you scored the winner in overtime."

I try to feel the weight of that. A cup-winning overtime goal, the thing I've chased since I first held a stick. Somewhere in the four years I can't touch, I apparently lived the single greatest moment of my career.

And I can't remember a second of it.

“After that, you became our captain,” Theo says.

“Your speech was incredible,” Wyatt adds, grinning. “You cried. Theo cried. Jordan pretended he had somewhere better to be.”

“I did have somewhere better to be.”

Wyatt raises an eyebrow. “Her name was Brittany.”

Jordan’s grin is slow and shameless. “See? You do remember.”

"Enough," Theo says, but he's almost smiling.

The noise dies all at once, and I understand why when I see Coach Brennan. He doesn't come in laughing. The whole team straightens without being told.

"Out," he says. "You had your visit. Let me have my captain."

They go, grumbling.

Wyatt ties the balloon to my bed rail on the way past and pats my foot through the blanket. Easton squeezes my shoulder while Jordan pats my arm. Theo places a food pack on my tray table.

“Chicken soup,” he whispers.

“Thanks.”

Cole lifts a hand on his way out, and Dmitri gives me another nod before following him.

Camden hangs back long enough to straighten the container Theo left precariously close to the edge of the table.

"Good luck with him," he says.