“How’s your mom?”
“Stable. Arguing about Jell-O.”
“Good woman.”
“League?”
Sully exhales. “The fine is confirmed. Leaving mid-period in a Round One game. They had to make noise.”
“I expected it.”
“Do you want the club to fight it?”
I think of the helicopter. The offer. The clean, efficient answer that would have kept the cameras happy.
“No.”
“Game Six is tomorrow. Roman has the room if you need time.”
The old answer climbs up automatically.
I’ll be there. I am fine. Team first.
I look down the corridor again.
Peyton is crouched in front of Lily, tying a shoelace while Emma talks at her with both hands. Peyton nods like the story matters.
Maybe the new answer gets to be honest.
“I need the transfer settled first,” I say. “Then I’ll decide.”
Sully is quiet for a beat. “Good. That’s the right answer.”
After the call, I text the group thread.
Mom’s stable. Transfer to Austin likely. Be ready for Game Six. Roman has the room until I’m back.
Responses come fast.
Zach: We got you.
Finn: I will be mature and terrifying.
Colt: Absolutely not in that order.
Kowalski: Family first.
Evan: I accept temporary emotional authority.
Roman: Nobody gave you that.
Evan: The room voted privately.
Zach: We did not.
I laugh under my breath, and the sound surprises me.
Then Silas calls.