Page 64 of Left-Hand Larceny

I stare at it. Delete it. Type again:

Me:

8 letters. When the other team has no goals, but you do.

In theory, she was there. In theory, she watched, but I don’t want theory. I want her opinions, her reactions. I want to know what she saw. What she felt. What she thought of me. Did I impress her?

Before I can decide if I’m going to send it, Coach’s voice cuts through the room.

“Hey. No press today, unwind your own way, but Tristan wants you all posting something about the game. Doesn’t have to be your face, just something from today. We won. Look like you’re damn happy or something.”

Spags salutes like he’s in the Navy. “Yes, Content Commander, sir.”

Vic throws a sock at him.

I tuck my phone away and finally strip off the last of my gear, dragging every motion out like a kid trying to delay bedtime.The pads feel heavier today, but in a good way. Like armor, not responsibility.

In the showers, the water scalds the tired from my bones. My hip pulses under the heat, aching from use, but I let it. Let it remind me I did something real tonight. That I moved. Blocked. Healed. Won.By the time I’m back at my stall, most of the guys have cleared out. I dress slow—compression shorts, joggers, hoodie. When I reach for my phone again, I swipe over to my camera roll.

There’s a picture I took this morning, before warmups. Just my jersey draped over the back of the stall, pads stacked in front of it. Helmet perched on top. Still and waiting. It looked like a shrine when I took it with every intention of sending it to Sadie. Like a thank you. Or a promise.

My thumb hovers over her name. Then I think better of it. I post it to my feed instead. No caption, just a wolf emoji and a blue heart.

I know she’ll see it.

Hopefully.

The comments roll in before I’m out of the Stand. Actually, I’m still in my towel when they rattle my phone like a mag 8 earthquake.

@goalie_girl_89: He’s back. He’s beautiful. He’s ours.

@shutoutcentral: Ragnar Ólaffson, 37 saves, 0 goals, stonewalling like it’s his job (oh wait—)

@speaksoftlysaveshard: Can we get another video?? Your voice is calming. And that stutter? Hot. Just saying.

@icelandinfohq: Congrats on your first game back!

@goalieshutout1: A SHUTOUT TO START THE SEASON

I knock on the wooden doorframe next to me out of reflex.

“Superstition confirmed,” Vic says as he walks past, unwrapping a protein bar and knocking on the wood too. “You knock every time someone says shutout.”

I try not to smile or laugh, because yes, I do. We all do. It’s the equivalent of saying “Macbeth” in the theatre. Vic squints at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Is that…a smile?”

“N-no.”

He leans against the wall, chewing slowly. “You sure? Kinda looks like one.”

I roll my eyes and shift my bag higher on my shoulder.

“J-just g-glad to be b-back.”

“Sure. But it’s not just that.”

I grunt.

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