The training room was silent except for the hum of the ice machine and Derek's ragged breathing.
Leo stood in the doorway, watching the trainer wrap Derek's ankle in a fresh compression sleeve. The swelling was worse than it had been after the semifinal. Much worse. The ankle was the size of a softball, purple and yellow, the skin stretched tight over the bones.
“You can't play tomorrow,” the trainer said.
Derek didn't look up. “I have to.”
“You don't have to. You want to. There's a difference.”
“Same thing.”
“Different thing.” The trainer finished wrapping and stood up. “If you play on this ankle, you risk a complete tear. That means surgery. That means months of rehab. That means you might never play again.”
Derek finally looked up. His eyes were red. “I'm a senior. This is my las
