Fair hit.
The puck hits the boards again. Crack. Return. Crack.
Evan catches it and looks at me. “Hayes wrote a thing people could actually argue with. That is rare. I still hate that she was close enough to write it.”
“Both can be true.”
“Look at you. Learning nuance after sex and a media crisis.”
I stare at him.
Evan only grins.
“Watch it,” I say.
“That tone work on reporters too?”
I start to leave.
“Cap.”
Evan rolls the puck under one foot. “You ever think the boys will follow you even if you loosened the leash?”
For once, Evan seems uncomfortable with his own seriousness.
“That’s the whole thought. Don’t make it a speech.” He flicks the puck up. “Point at the lane sometime. See who doesn’t blow it.”
The sentence sits between us, irritating and useful.
“You volunteering to stop blowing lanes?” I ask.
Evan’s grin returns. “No. I am volunteering to make better mistakes.”
I smile.
“That may be the worst offer I have ever accepted.”
“Growth is ugly.”
I leave him there with the puck and the empty rink, thinking that trust from Evan looks a lot like defiance with better timing.
Silas waits at the locker room door.
Summoned.
I follow him to the office and stay standing when Silas says, “Sit.”
Silas removes his glasses and sets them on the desk. “I assume you read it.”
“I did.”
“Then you understand why we need to respond.”
“Do we?”
Silas’s gaze sharpens. “She accused this organization of manipulation.”
“She described it.”