Page 5

Chapter 5

RYLAN

T he locker room buzzes with energy as we gear up for our first on-ice practice of the year. I deliberately focus on my own stall, going through my familiar routine, putting on each piece of equipment in the exact same order I've used since I was a kid. Pirelli's been assigned the stall two down from mine. Close enough that I keep catching hints of his cologne mixed with coffee when he moves past me.

Austin, on my other side, is quiet and broody, as usual. But there's something pointed in the way he positions himself, almost like he's trying to create a buffer between Jamie and me. I'm not sure what that's about, but I'm grateful anyway. It keeps Pirelli mostly out of my line of sight, and honestly, I don't need the distraction.

I hit the ice first, as usual. The rink's familiar scent fills my lungs, as comforting as a warm blanket on a chilly day. The cool, crisp air mingles with the sharp tang of the ice, and it quiets the noise in my head just a little as I breathe it in.

This is home. It's been home for as long as I can remember. An image of Nick flashes through my mind, his grin wide as he flies past me, heading for the goal. The rink is always where I've come to work out whatever's on my mind. After Nick died, our town's rink manager, Jerry, used to let me skate late at night after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes until two or three in the morning, just skating and shooting puck after puck into the empty net until my legs nearly gave out.

Even now, I still feel Nick with me every time I step onto the ice. Hockey was the bond my brother and I shared, the thread that wove our lives together. It's still what holds me together. I wouldn't know who I am without hockey. It's the bedrock I've built my life on.

I take a few laps before the rest of the guys start making their way out. When Jamie comes on, he hops onto the ice and accelerates away with the confidence that comes from a lifetime of being the best player out here. He hasn't put his helmet on yet, and his shaggy blond curls blow back off his face as he rounds the first curve. He's an incredible skater, fast and graceful, each stride deliberate and powerful as he moves across the surface.

He looks just like Nick.

That thought almost knocks the breath out of my lungs, and my stride falters. But Coach's whistle saves me from dwelling on it.

We take a few minutes to stretch before separating into three groups for some simple drills, the kind we've all been doing since we were kids. Of course, Jamie and I get grouped together, along with Austin, Olivier Gagnon, and a couple of other guys.

Jamie starts off, his movements fluid and precise as he weaves through the cones. Each turn is sharp, showcasing his natural agility. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and effort, and his blue eyes sparkle with joy. It's easy to see how much he loves this. Most guys see practice as a necessary evil, a boring chore we all have to do before getting to the good stuff: the game. But Jamie seems to love every second of it, even the drudgery.

Louis skates up beside me during a break in the drills."Kid's got moves,"hesayswith a grin before tilting his head back to squirt water into his mouth.

"Yeah," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

We move into a short scrimmage, and as expected, Coach has Jamie and me together on the top line with Austin. One of the guys who got shipped to Florida rounded out our top line last year, so it's no surprise that Jamie's taking his place.

What is surprising is how natural it feels. Jamie's ability to read plays and anticipate movements is uncanny. They say some players have an innate hockey sense, a weird ability to see how the game is going to play out and react to things almost before they happen. It's not the kind of thing you can teach. Nick had it, and obviously, Jamie does too. When I send a no-look pass across the ice, he's right there to receive it, like we've been playing together for years instead of minutes. We have the kind of chemistry that can't be manufactured, no matter how many drills you run.

Meanwhile, Austin plays with an edge I haven't seen for a while. He's not being overtly aggressive with Jamie, but there's a coldness to his interactions. When Jamie calls for the puck, Austin hesitates a fraction too long before passing. The timing is off just enough that Jamie has to adjust his speed, which throws off what should have been a perfect setup.

Pirelli just gives a slight nod and keeps playing, but I catch the way his jaw tightens.

The next time he gets open, Austin straight-up ignores him, choosing instead to take a worse shot that Louis blocks easily. Jamie's in perfect position for the rebound, but Austin swoops in and claims it instead, circling back around to reset the play.

Coach Shaw watches intently, his expression unreadable, until he blows the whistle to signal the end of practice.

"Good work today, gentlemen."His gaze sweeps over all of us but lingers on Austin for a moment longer than usual."Generally,I like what I'm seeing, but we have plenty of work to do. Tomorrow afternoon's skate is open to season ticket holders, so everyone needs to bring their A-game and their smiles."

As we file off the ice, Coach skates up beside Austin."Cote, I need a word before you head out. Come by my office after you shower."

"Of course,"Austinreplies, but there's tension in his voice.

I'm the only one who overhears their conversation, but I act like I didn't hear a thing. Austin stays silent as we enter the locker room, but my guess is Coach is going to want an explanation for Austin's attitude toward Pirelli. I'm just as curious, but it's not something I'll mention unless it becomes a bigger problem.

As the guys disperse—some to the trainers, others to the weight room or the showers, I hang back. I need a minute to breathe, to process the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by watching Jamie Pirelli play hockey like he's the reincarnation of my older brother. My older brother who's been dead for almost twenty years.

It's not just the similarity to Nick, though that's part of it. It's the way he brings out something in my own game I'd nearly forgotten was there. Something that feels strangely thrilling and terrifyingly close to joy.