Chapter Nine

I searched for the right words. The captain words. The best-friend words. They all felt inadequate. “You’ve never fucked up anything important. Not once. Remember when we were ten and that travel tournament? You stonewalled three penalty shots in the final. Whole team called you Wall Nora for a month.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You cried when we lost the one before that.”

“I did not cry. It was sweat.”

“Sure, Ellis. Whatever you say.”

The banter felt good but it faded too quick. She leaned against her car, staring at the rink building like it held answers. “It’s not just fucking up on the ice, Jordan. What if I go and it’s… different? What if the program’s too fast, too intense? What if I leave and everything here changes?”

Everything here. Meaning the team. The rink. Us.

I stepped closer without thinking, close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose that only showed up under certain lights. “Then we adapt. Like we always do. New lines, new plays. You make the big save, I crash the net. Same game.”

“But it’s not the same,” she whispered. “Not if I’m in Minnesota and you’re here wearing the A and leading the guys to playoffs without me.”

The wind picked up, rattling a loose sign on the rink fence. I wanted to pull her into a hug like I would have a year ago, no hesitation, no second thoughts. But now there were layers. The unspoken thing that had been building since last season, when a post-game celebration hug lingered a beat too long. When her laugh in the locker room made my stomach flip in a way that wasn’t just friendship.

“I don’t want you to stay just because of me,” I said finally. The words tasted like ash. “This is your shot. Take it. I’ll be here when you visit. Or… whatever.”

She looked up at me, eyes searching. For a second, I thought she might say something real. Something that cracked the ice wide open. Instead, she nodded and opened her car door. “Yeah. Whatever.”

The drive home was quiet except for the hum of the heater and the occasional spray of slush from the tires. I followed her most of the way, like I had the night before, until our paths split toward our neighborhoods. Back at the house, Mom had dinner waiting... chicken and rice, nothing fancy. Dad was on a work call in the living room, his voice muffled through the door.

I ate mechanically, scrolling through game film on my phone. But my mind kept drifting to Nora. To the way her saves had looked today, precise and fierce. To the fear in her voice that she tried to hide. To how the team dynamic would shift if she left. Danny as alternate captain? Cho stepping up on defense? It wasn’t just personal, it was hockey. Losing our starting goalie mid-season would be a gut punch.

After dinner, I headed to my room and pulled out the old Mites photo from my desk drawer. Me and Nora at seven, tiny pads swallowing us whole, grinning with missing teeth on that same rink. Ten years of accumulating layers, like I’d thought about before. Now it felt like one big thaw was coming.

My phone buzzed. Nora.

[Nora]: video analysis is brutal. these goalies are aliens. how do they move like that?

I smiled and typed back.

[Jordan]: practice with me tomorrow? I’ll shoot bad ones so you feel better

[Nora]: deal. but only if you promise not to go easy on the A-captain ego

[Jordan]: no promises

The texts went back and forth for a while—light stuff about drills, a meme Danny sent in the group chat, complaints about homework. But underneath, the tension hummed. End of the month deadline loomed like a playoff game you couldn’t prepare for fully. One wrong move, and the ice could shatter.

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling cracks that looked like skate marks under arena lights. The season was young, but it already felt like we were playing on thin ice. One push too hard, and we’d both go under. The question was, would we pull each other up… or let the cold take over?

Downstairs, Dad’s call ended. Mom called up about lights out soon. Normal stuff. But nothing felt normal anymore. Not with Nora’s car probably pulling into her driveway right now, her mind racing the same circles as mine.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the rink dreams came anyway, empty ice, two sets of skates carving parallel lines that kept drifting apart no matter how hard I pushed to close the gap.