“Off the ice!”
Tuesday morning training ended with the sharp scream of Coach Jenkins’ whistle cutting across the rink. The team began peeling away immediately, skates carving toward the benches while sticks clattered against the boards. The cold still clung to Noah’s skin beneath his gear, sweat cooling too fast in the arena air as he pulled off his gloves.
“Get ready your playbooks,” Jenkins added loudly. “Bus leaves twelve sharp Thursday, and if any of you idiots embarrass me at the hotel, I’ll make you skate suicides until your lungs collapse.”
Noah stepped off the ice more slowly than the others. His legs ached from practice, shoulders tight beneath his pads, but his mind wasn’t on hockey right now. It hadn’t fully been on hockey for days. The countdown Adrian had given him to sell
