COLE
The facility was empty.
Not the controlled emptiness of early morning, when the building hummed with potential and the ice waited for the first blade. This was late emptiness. 8 PM. The lights in the corridors had switched to the dim, energy-saving setting that made everything look like a parking garage. The training staff had gone home. The coaches had gone home. Even the janitorial crew had finished their rounds and locked the supply closet.
I was still here because my shoulder needed the cold tub and I didn’t want witnesses. The cortisone was wearing off faster now. Three hours instead of six. I’d spent twenty minutes in the hydrotherapy room with my left arm submerged to the bicep, the water so cold it burned, waiting for the inflammation to retreat enough that I could close my
