Page 165 of Top Shelf

Min fru: Rude to make me emotional during a launch crisis.

Me: Eat your lunch.

I put my phone down on the bench before I can deflect with a joke about what I would like to eat for lunch. Before I can ask again what she needs, or offer my name, my platform, my contacts—the entire toolbox I know how to reach for when somebody I love is struggling.

Across the locker room, another phone vibrates. Camden Cole, our backup goalie, has looked at his phone seven times in the past ten minutes. I only know this because Reid has stopped the same replay each time.

“You’re dropping too early,” Reid says, tapping the screen with his finger. “Stay patient. Let the shooter commit first.”

Camden nods, still looking at the replay. He is twenty-three, six-foot-two, annoyingly quick, and has the kind of face management will eventually plaster across billboards once he stops looking surprised every time somebody hands him a microphone. The organization has been calling him promising for months, which means they will expect Reid to teach him twenty years of goalie experience before the playoffs and pretend this is reasonable.

There’s another buzz, and Camden’s attention drifts back to the screen beside his thigh.

Reid stops the video playing on the tablet between them again. “Cole.”

Camden’s eyes lift back to the screen. “Yeah?”

“What did I just say?”

“Stay patient. I’m dropping before the shooter commits.”

Reid’s mouth tightens, probably because Camden has managed to repeat the instruction perfectly despite spending half the conversation watching his phone. He taps the screen again. “Then pay attention.”

“I am.”

Chase, stripping tape from his wrist nearby, snorts. “Why do you keep grabbing your phone every time it vibrates, then? You talking to a girl?”

Camden shakes his head. “No…”

His phone vibrates again, and Jake looks over from his stall. “Strong argument.”

Camden flips the phone facedown beside him. “Fine—problem solved.”

“Until it buzzes again,” Logan says without looking up from the tape he’s winding around the blade of his stick.

Camden ignores him, and Reid restarts the clip again. They make it twelve seconds before it vibrates and Camden’s eyes dart to it. Every head nearby turns, and Chase’s grin stretches slowly. “Oh, this is absolutely a woman.”

“It could be anyone,” Camden shrugs.

“Then show us.”

“No.”

“See? Woman.”

Jake reaches into his locker for a clean shirt. “Could be his mom.”

“Jesus Christ.” Camden grimaces. “It’s not my mom.”

Chase points at him with both hands. “Thank you for confirming it’s a woman who is not your mom.”

“I confirmed nothing.”

“You’re smiling at your phone like an idiot,” Logan adds.

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“You were,” Eli says from across the aisle. “Bit dopey, actually.”