Page 19 of Wild Card 13

Marco pointed at me immediately when my expression shifted. “There it is. That’s the face.”

“What face?”

“The ‘I absolutely deserve this meeting’ face.”

“I didn’t think the thing mattered.”

“You never do.”

“That’s because half the shit doesn’t matter.”

“That’s probably not the argument to lead with upstairs.”

I stood and grabbed my hoodie off the back of the chair.

Around me, the room kept moving. Tape ripping. Music pounding. Guys arguing over line changes and missed coverage and who forgot to order postgame food after Winnipeg.

Nobody here hated each other exactly. But trust inside hockey was conditional.

You earned it in layers. Shift by shift. Road trip by road trip. Fight by fight. And once people decided who you were, changing their minds took forever.

I’d been back in Northbend long enough now to understand my role again.

Local kid. Chaos winger. Naturally talented. Chronically unreliable.

Didn’t matter that I showed up every night ready to play. Didn’t matter that I’d matured since I was twenty-one. Didn’t matter that I’d spent the last three years trying to stop acting like hockey was the only thing keeping my life upright.

“Hey, Burns,” Zee called as I headed for the door. “If they suspend you, can I have your parking spot?”

I flipped him off without slowing down.

“Love you too!” he yelled after me.

The executive level upstairs felt like a completely different building from the locker room. Too much glass. Too many people wearing expensive shoes to jobs that involved spreadsheets instead of getting punched in the mouth for a living.

My sneakers squeaked faintly against polished flooring as I walked past framed Frosthawks photos lining the walls. Old playoff runs. Retired captains. Ownership dinners. Smiling faces pretending pressure didn’t eat people alive in this business.

Somebody from sponsorship nodded carefully when I passed.

Another staffer looked away too fast.

Yeah. Definitely getting written up.

I grabbed the conference room handle already annoyed and pushed the door open without knocking.

And the entire world dropped out from under me. For one completely stupid second, my brain refused to process what I was looking at.

Dark green sweater.

Gold hoops.

Hair down.

Calm expression.

Older, but it was her.

Everything inside me locked up so fast it physically hurt.