Page 106 of The Off Limits Captain

Then I read my article again.

Looking for regret.

I find none.

What I find is the clearest version I could write.

That should be enough.

It is not.

Ryan

Tuesday morning

I read the article in front of my stall before practice.

I make it one paragraph before the locker room gets too loud.

Not actually. The guys are doing what they always do. Tape ripping. Skates clacking. Colt complaining about a protein shake. Finn reviving the cereal-soup argument because apparently winning has consequences.

Normal morning.

I am the problem.

I keep reading.

Peyton does not make me a hero.

She does not make the organization a villain.

She does something worse.

She tells the truth in a way no one can dismiss without proving her point.

Then I reach the paragraph that stills my hand.

McAllister’s discipline is admirable. His quiet protects his team. But at some point, distance stops being strength and becomes something else: a way to avoid confrontation, a way to stay intact by never risking the mess of connection. He leads, but often from far enough away to keep himself safe.

I lock the phone.

Open it again.

Read it a second time.

Then a third.

“You good, Cap?” Zach asks.

“Fine.”

“That your fine or normal-human fine?”

Zach raises both hands. “Asking for the room.”

Kowalski walks past with his stick. “He is not normal human.”

Finn, from two stalls down, says, “Confirmed.”