Page 32 of Lighting the Lamp
“No. No matter what you say, it’s the truth, Beau.” Cooper steps forward, putting himself between Coach and me, protecting me from any more barbs. “You think Cole’s soft? You think a guy who tore his life apart just to build it back is weak?”
His voice stays low, controlled, and dangerous, but it carries as he inches toward Mercer, using his bulky build to force the man out the door.
“He took himself off the ice before he destroyed himself. That’s strength. That’s guts. And I only wish I were half the man Beau and Cole are. If you ever put my brothers’ namesin the same sentence again like it’s a fucking insult, I swear to God—” His voice catches slightly as Mercer eases through the door. Cooper reaches for the handle, pulling it almost shut before finishing his threat. “We’re going to have a much bigger problem.”
He doesn’t give Coach a chance to apologize or respond before slamming the door shut in his face so hard it rattles the lockers against the wall. For a second, no one moves or speaks, but then I feel the air in the room shift.
Cooper stands there for a few moments, staring at the door like he wants to tear it off the hinges. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white, chest rising and falling in shallow, clipped breaths. I’ve seen him fight on the ice and take hits that would level most men and skate away like nothing touched him, but what Mercer said about me and Cole cracked something deep inside him.
He drags in a breath, jaw twitching, before he drops onto the bench beside me. He’s close, but not too close, like he knows I might break if anyone touches me right now.
We sit in silence for a moment before he breaks it. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far,” Cooper says finally, voice low and rough.
“It’s not your fault,” I rasp, my throat raw from all the emotions. “I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve?—”
“Hey.” His voice sharpens just enough to cut through mine as he turns to face me. “You don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not your pain.”
My vision blurs for half a second, but I force it back. Cooper leans forward, forearms on his knees, hands clasped tight. He stares at the floor like it’s holding everything he’s afraid to say.
“I hate that he’s talking about both of you like you’re a cautionary tale. Like both you and Cole haven’t been fightingbattles silently for years, wanting to prove something to everyone and yourselves at the same time.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat’s too tight.
He turns his head slightly, just enough to look at me sideways. “You’re both the strongest people I know. Just like Cole, you’ll claw your way back on the ice, from the fucking edge, and prove that motherfucker wrong. Until then, I’ll be damned if I let Mercer or anyone else talk shit about my brothers, this team, or my family.”
The words sink in, heavy and warm, like something that I can wear like armor until that day comes. Before I can respond, a voice cuts across the quiet.
“That was bullshit.” Crosby rises from his stall, arms crossed and expression thunderous.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, forcing the words past the knot in my chest. “I’m sorry for putting you guys in this position.”
“Don’t do that,” he says immediately, pushing off the locker wall. “Don’t take that on.”
Jace steps closer, eyes locked on mine. “If you could play, you’d be on that ice. We all know it.”
“You’re not the problem,” Mackenzie adds, shaking his head. “You’ve been the fucking heart of this team since the day you stepped foot on the ice. You and Cooper. ”
My vision blurs, but I blink it back. “But I’m not out there, and that’s so much worse.”
“You’re here,” Jace says, gripping my shoulder and squeezing lightly. “You show up. That matters.”
“We don’t skate for him,” Cooper says, his eyes scanning the room slowly, letting his words sink in. “We don’t lace up for the press. We skate for each other. For the guy next to you and the players sitting on the bench. We don’t do it for the egos in the back office. You’re part of this team, this family, whether you’re on the ice or not. You always will be.”
Jace nods as Mackenzie taps his stick against the floor once.
Bower mutters, “Damn right.”
Cooper’s voice softens slightly. “This isn’t about proving anyone wrong. It’s about playing like we’ve got something worth fighting for. Let’s go remind them who the hell we are.”
The room shifts from still to storm, erupting in a cacophony of sound: gloves tighten, tape snaps, helmets go on. One by one, my teammates file by, bumping fists with me on their way past.
“Rest up. We’re gonna need our heart back soon,” Cooper whispers, pulling me in for a one-arm hug before following the team out of the locker room.
And just like that, they’re gone. But I stay behind, the air cooling around me and silence settling once more. However, this time, it doesn’t feel like defeat.
It feels like purpose. Like maybe I’m still part of the pulse of this team, even if it’s from the bench.
Chapter Twelve
