Chapter Thirty-Three
MARA
Finn is cleared to play in the national championship at nine twelve Saturday morning.
He tells me at nine thirteen.
FINN: Cleared. No symptoms. Starting decision at noon.
I am in the hotel conference room editing the first revived episode of Behind the Mask. Tessa reads over my shoulder.
“Do not tell him you hope he starts,” she says.
“I know.”
“Do not tell him the story needs a heroic ending.”
“I would never.”
“Your face would.”
I type:
ME: How do you feel?
His response takes a minute.
FINN: Ready. Scared. Want it. Will accept the decision.
I smile.
ME: Accurate information. Proud of you.
The episode on my screen is not his.
After the station board ended the pause, Helen asked which story should relaunch the series.
I chose Rowan Hale and the women’s team’s fight for equal ice access.
It is reported, documented, and entirely independent of Finn.
Theo agreed to an interview after demanding three corrections to the practice calendar and one to Rowan’s description of him as “a human meeting agenda.”
The episode ends with both captains entering a summer ice-allocation committee.
Tessa says it ends with “foreplay through governance.”
I delete that phrase from the production notes.
At noon, Finn calls.
“Coach is starting me,” he says.
I close the laptop.
“How do you feel?”
“Same answer.”
“What do you need?”
“Nothing.”
I wait.
“Actually,” he says, “tell me something normal.”
“Lucy has decided Mr. Waddles is remarrying.”
“To the bear?”
“No. A ceramic flamingo.”
“Jace will officiate.”
“Already volunteered.”
Finn breathes out.
“Better?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Good. Go be a strange wall person.”
“Goalie.”
“Same thing.”
Before we hang up, he says, “Mara.”
“Yes?”
“If it starts, I will use the plan.”
“I know.”
“And if I leave—”
“I will still love you.”
Silence.
“I know,” he says.
That answer is the championship before the game begins.
At the arena, I sit with his parents, Sophie, Lucy, Lena’s parents, and enough Stoneharbor alumni to occupy an entire section. Tessa covers from the booth. I am a spectator by choice.
Colleen hands me a folded card.
On the front she has written FOR BOTH OF US.
Inside are grounding steps. Feet. Exhale. Three sounds. Exit if needed.
“You made one for me?” I ask.
“Watching our children is not a low-stress activity.”
“I am not technically your child.”
She touches my cheek. “Details.”
The teams skate out.
Stoneharbor in black and silver. Mountain Tech in white and red.
Finn takes the crease.
His mask catches the lights.
The championship begins.