CHAPTER 22 #2
“They’re asking the same question with sharper teeth,” I say. “Canada has Coach Ramirez available. Talia can give team comment. If the goal is health speculation, that should go through official channels. If the goal is tactical, Emily already answered.”
Lacey looks past me toward the media line.
The Regional reporter is still there.
Still waiting.
Still planning.
I keep my voice calm.
Too calm.
“Maybe route the quick hit through Coach instead,” I say. “Or Ava, if the question is about defensive cover. But sending Emily back into the same speculation loop after training seems unfair.”
Lacey frowns at the schedule.
For one second, I feel relief.
Immediate.
Clean.
Awful.
Because relief means I believe I am doing something useful.
It means I am already inside the decision.
Lacey taps the tablet. “I can check with Talia and Coach Ramirez. There is an alternate exit if they need to move Smith straight to recovery.”
A small voice in the back of my head says stop.
Say no, ask Emily.
Say, I’m not her staff.
Say, please confirm with her directly.
I say none of that fast enough.
Lacey continues, “We can have Coach Ramirez do the quick hit instead. That may actually be cleaner.”
Cleaner.
There is the old word in a new uniform.
Cleaner.
My stomach tightens.
I should correct it.
I should.
“Thanks,” I say.
That is what comes out.
Lacey nods. “I’ll coordinate.”
She turns away, speaking into her headset.
“Can we adjust post-Canada training? Potentially route Smith straight to recovery and have Coach Ramirez do the quick hit. Yes, alternative exit by service tunnel B.”
The hallway tilts by half an inch.
Not visibly.
Inside me.
The relief is still there.
So is dread.
They do not fit together, but they both take up space.
I turn back.
Darius is watching me.
Sienna too.
Colton has one hand over his mouth like he is trying to trap a curse inside.
Morgan has arrived beside him.
Of course.
I do not know where she came from.
Probably a hidden sibling portal reserved for disasters.
I walk back to them.
No one speaks for three steps.
Then Darius says, “What did you do?”
The question lands exactly like Emily’s will.
My mouth goes dry.
“I asked about the plan.”
Sienna closes her eyes for one second.
Morgan’s face goes still.
Colton mutters, “Oh, friend.”
“I didn’t say she couldn’t do it,” I say.
Darius’s gaze does not move.
“I didn’t mention details. I didn’t tell them anything private. I said she already handled the question and they should consider athlete load.”
“And the result?” Morgan asks.
I look toward Lacey, who is now speaking to another staffer and pointing toward the service tunnel.
“They may route her out through recovery and have Coach do the quick hit.”
Sienna’s eyes open.
Her voice is quiet. “Did Emily ask for that?”
The question should be simple.
It is not.
“No,” I say.
There it is.
Ava laughs from the pitch entrance.
The sound cuts through the corridor before I see her. Then Team Canada starts moving off the field in small groups, players sweaty and bright from training.
Emily walks near the middle with Ava on one side and Coach Ramirez on the other.
Her jacket is unzipped. Hair damp at the temples. Water bottle in one hand. She looks tired, but steady. Sore, but not fragile. Like a captain who has trained, managed the plan, and is ready to move to the next thing.
Then Lacey steps toward Coach Ramirez.
Talia arrives from the media area.
The words come in pieces.
“Adjusted route.”
“Quick hit with Coach.”
“Emily straight to recovery.”
“Regional request handled.”
Emily’s pace slows.
Her eyes move from Lacey to Talia.
Then to Coach Ramirez.
Then to me.
Everything stops.
Not the corridor.
The corridor keeps moving. Players talk. Cameras shift. Staff call names. A cart beeps somewhere behind the barricade.
But between Emily and me, everything stops.
Her face changes.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
My chest drops.
I know before she takes one step toward me.
I know before her mouth opens.
I know because I can suddenly hear myself from years ago.
I thought this would be easier.
I didn’t want you dragged into it.
I was trying to protect you.
I decided because I was scared.
Different hallway.
Different stakes.
Same shape.
Emily walks toward me.
Slowly.
Water bottle in one hand. Sweat still at her hairline. Captain’s armband absent because training is done, but somehow she looks more captain than ever.
Lacey starts to speak. “Captain Smith, we were just adjusting the media flow because of the post-training schedule, and Nathan mentioned...”
Emily lifts one hand.
Lacey stops.
Good instinct.
Emily does not look at her again.
She looks at me.
I should say it first.
I should say, I overstepped.
I should say, You did not ask me.
I should say, I heard the question coming and could not stand it, so I moved pieces around without you.
But shame is slower than consequence.
And Emily reaches me before I find the words.
Darius is silent beside me.
Morgan is silent.
Colton is silent, which is how I know the world has become serious.
Sienna steps back, giving Emily the full space.
Emily stops in front of me.
Not close.
Close enough.
Her eyes are steady.
Too steady.
Her voice is quiet.
“What did you do?”
The words open the floor beneath me.
I look at her face.
Not her side.
Not the cameras.
Not the reporter.
Her face.
And for one sick second, all I have is the truth I should have honoured before I acted.
I did the old thing again.
***