Page 32 of The Fine Line
Nowis go time.
Through my earpiece, I hear Ray Maslow—the Storm’s longtime TV analyst— and Mick begin the transition cue I was told to listen for. I exhale slowly, letting time stretch just a little. Then I square my shoulders, lift my chin, fluff my short hair to cover the earpiece, tighten my grip on the mic emblazoned with the Texas Storm logo, smile for the camera, and wait.
“We’re going to head rinkside now to hear from Caroline Barrett,” Ray says. “Caroline, how’s the energy down there?”
“Ray, it’s exactly what you’d expect,” I say, gesturing behindme. “Texas is known for having some of the best fans in hockey, and they’ve already proved that tonight. Even during warmups, the place is packed with fans here to cheer on their favorite Storm players.”
“Speaking of Storm players,” Ray adds, “I think we can all agree that the spotlight is shining especially bright on one in particular tonight.”
“That would be Rhett Sutton, of course,” Mick jumps in before I can answer, as if I wouldn’t have known if he didn’t fill in the blank. “There’s been a lot of noise around the league surrounding his highly anticipated first game as the Storm’s new captain.”
“Well, Rhett Sutton’s no stranger to making noise,” I say before I can stop myself. I laugh lightly to cover the reflex.
“How’s he looking out there so far?” Ray asks.
I swallow. “Well, you know him, Ray.” I glance toward the ice, pretending I’m just scanning casually, but then I actually catch sight of him. My eyes narrow, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. “You can always count on him to be his usual… vibrant self.”
Except he’s not.
Sure, he’s smiling and skating hard, waving to fans like always. Most people wouldn’t think twice. The kids by the glass are starstruck. Girls are swooning. But I see it.
He’s off.
He’s sloppy. Cutting corners. Skating through warmups at maybe eighty percent. His grin’s there, but it’s lazy. And behind his eyes, he looks like he’s somewhere else entirely.
“Oh God.”
“Sorry—what’s happening, Caroline?” Ray cuts in through my earpiece.
I snap back to the camera and flash a smile. “Justthinking about the odds! Texas has historically won every home season opener against the Ottawa Wolves.”
“Really?” Mick questions me. “Is that true?”
It is.
“No, I think she’s right,” Ray remarks.
I am.
“So we’ll see if the boys can keep that streak alive tonight,” I say, smoothly recovering.
“And we’ll see if their new captain can lead them there,” Ray adds. “Especially considering that Rhett Sutton has been the player to score the first goal of the season three years running.”
“That is true,” I confirm.
The horn blares, signaling the end of warmups.
“Alright, we know what that means,” Ray says. “Thanks so much, Caroline. We’re going to head out for a short break, and when we come back, we’ll see the puck drop on a new season of Texas hockey.”
The cameraman nods, lowering the camera to let me know we’re off the air.
I let out a sigh and immediately turn back toward the ice. Players are filing down the tunnels—but I don’t even bother looking for Rhett among them. I know where he’ll be.
Last one off. Always.
That’s not something new that comes with him being captain—it’s something he’s done since the day he joined the Texas Storm.
I spot him just as he takes a shot toward an empty net. The puck pings off the crossbar.
