I am still thinking about what he said.
Not just the words but the way he said them “She knew him before you were born”. Not a taunt. Not a threat. Something heavier. Something like a truth that had been burning a hole in his mouth for too long.
I try to push it out of my head during practice, but the thought clings like damp fabric. It drags at me when I skate, catches on my edges when I turn. I tell myself to focus on drills, on the simple rhythm of movement, but my brain is stuck in the hallway with him, stuck on that single sentence.
By the time Coach blows the whistle and calls us off the ice, my legs ache and my patience is thin. I head to the locker room, ready to peel off my gear and disappear before George can say a word to me.
But he is already there.
Not sprawled in his us
