Page 26 of Chasing The Goal
Then she nodded. “He’s ahead of where we projected. The hamstring’s responding well. He’s cleared for light contact and controlled scrimmage. That’s what we agreed on.”
“But?” Coach pressed.
“But I’d like to keep the timeline conservative for full game contact,” she said, glancing down at her notes. “Another week or two of monitored scrimmage. If he stays clean, we reassess for game readiness.”
Coach grunted. “That’d get him back just before the road trip.”
“That’s the plan,” she confirmed.
Coach turned back to me. “Thoughts?”
I met Mallory’s eyes. “I trust her. If she says a week or two more, I’ll do it.”
She blinked, surprised.
Coach Tucker gave a satisfied nod. “Good. That's the attitude we like to have around here! Keep skating like you did today and I’ll slot you back in with Logan by next Saturday.”
A small thrill shot through me, but I tamped it down. Focus. One day at a time.
“Understood.”
Coach waved us off. “Alright. Go hydrate. Ice that leg and stretch. You’re done for the day.”
I stood and turned toward the door, Mallory a few steps ahead of me. As we stepped into the hallway, I slowed my pace to match hers.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
She glanced at me. “For what?”
“For sticking to your gut in there. And for not saying yes just because Coach wanted it.”
Her lips quirked, not quite a smile. “I’m not here to make Coach happy.”
“No. You’re here to keep me from doing something stupid.”
She paused at the turn toward the training room. “Exactly.”
I wanted to say more. To tell her how much it meant that she was looking out for me, not just as a player, but as a person. But I didn’t. I let the silence stand.
Just before she disappeared down the hall, she looked over her shoulder.
“You really did look good out there.”
I grinned. “So youdowatch me skate.”
Mallory rolled her eyes and walked away.
And yeah—maybe I’d just earned back a little more than ice time today.
Jaymie
One Week Later...
The roar of thehome crowd hit me like a shot of adrenaline straight to the bloodstream.
I stepped onto the ice, lungs tight with nerves, legs humming with anticipation. Everything felt heightened—the sharp scent of fresh-cut ice, the low thrum of the music through the boards, the crackle of energy between players. The Saturday night lights above us blazeddown like spotlights on a stage, and this time, I wasn’t just watching from the wings.
I was back.
