Chapter 20
LEONORA
The highway stretches out in long grey lines ahead of us.
Tara drives with the same calm concentration she brings to everything else - hands steady on the wheel, her coffee balanced in the cup holder.
The equipment bag sits in the back seat.
Lee Shaw is officially on the road.
For a while we just listen to the quiet hum of the car and the low music through the speakers. The early morning sky is pale and washed out, the sun still trying to break through the clouds.
Eventually Tara glances at me.
“You nervous?”
“A little.”
She smiles slightly. “You should be.”
I watch the road slide past the windshield.
The word Showcase has been floating around campus all week like something magical.
Students have even been talking about it in the dining hall.
Tara taps the steering wheel lightly with her fingers.
“You’ve been amazing, Leonora.”
I glance over.
“I mean that,” she adds. “What you’ve done for this team… it’s incredible.”
The compliment warms me more than I expect. “Thanks.”
“But,” she continues gently, “this weekend is different. The medical excuse was only meant to cover a few games. A temporary situation while Grant recovered.”
“I know.”
“A whole weekend tournament…” She exhales quietly. “That’s trickier. The Giants weren’t on track to qualify for this.”
The highway curves slightly and she adjusts the wheel.
“Grant is traveling up with the team,” she says after a moment. “Just to support. I’m not clearing him to play yet.”
“That’s good.”
“He’s not ready. If he went out there too early, he’d set himself back weeks.”
“So, Lee stays.”
“For now.” Tara glances at me again. “I support you, you know that.”
“I do.”
“But this is a huge risk. Other teams will be watching closely, not to mention the media attention.”
“And Scouts.”
“Exactly.”
She taps the steering wheel again. “We just need to be careful.”
We drive another mile before she speaks again.
“Let’s think through logistics. How early do you want to arrive at the arena?” she asks.
“I can be first.”
“Good.”
“If I’m already dressed when the team arrives it’s less noticeable.”
“Exactly. I’ve secured a small physio room you can use for gear again.”
“Same routine as at home.”
“And post-game?”
“Same as before,” I say. “Leave quickly.”
Tara nods. “We’ll also keep the medical narrative simple. If anyone asks why Shaw changes separately, it’s still the same answer. Medical privacy.”
The road ahead widens as the highway merges toward the city hosting the tournament.
A large arena sign appears in the distance.
“There’s the other complication,” she says. “The hotel. I’ve booked you a room on a different floor from the team. Officially it’s so you can rest properly and keep away from the chaos for medical reasons. But the problem is this weekend isn’t just about hockey.”
She gestures vaguely toward the road ahead.
“These tournaments are networking events. Teams socialize in the hotel lobby. Scouts circulate and talk to coaches.”
Right.
Which means teammates notice when someone’s missing.
She gives me a sideways look.
“Honestly, the best thing we can do is rely on the intensity of the weekend.”
“How do you mean?”
“I can say that you need rest in between games and that I’ve advised you to limit social time. It’s flimsy, though.”
“So, what exactly is the format?”
It’s a round robin with three games total. Friday afternoon, then two on Saturday.”
“And then?”
“The top two teams go to the final on Sunday. Which obviously will have the most attention.”
Every possible pair of eyes.
“It’s possible you won’t make it through. You’re seeded fourth out of the four teams competing.”
I glance at her.
“Not that I’m hoping the Giants lose,” she adds quickly.
“Of course not.”
“But if the team travels back early…”
“It would be safer for me.”
“Yes.”
She’s right. The longer the tournament lasts, the harder the secret becomes to maintain.
I look back out at the road.
The arena is getting closer now, its glass exterior catching the weak sunlight.
“Well,” she says lightly, “no turning back now.”
I smile despite myself. “Nope.”
She gives me a quick sideways glance.
“You ready?”
I think about the last month.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think I am.”
Tara checks us in at a separate entrance and we get the lift up together.
The hotel room is much nicer than I expected.
I’m expecting something small and functional - one of those standard team rooms with twin beds and barely enough space to open a suitcase.
Instead, the door swings open onto a quiet, softly lit room with a wide window overlooking the city. A proper bed and even a small couch. The kind of place you could relax in.
I drop my bag on the chair and take a slow look around. “Wow.”
Tara smiles from the doorway.
“Perks of traveling with medical staff.”
“This is amazing.”
“Enjoy it,” she says. “The rest of the team is sharing.”
Right.
I picture the Giants piled into rooms down the hall - Mercer and Russo arguing about who gets which bed, someone blasting music, the team wandering in and out of each others’ rooms.
Very different atmosphere.
I glance back at the quiet space around me. “Feels a little unfair.”
“You’ll appreciate it by tomorrow,” Tara says. “Also, separate floor.”
I nod.
The real reason for the room.
“You won’t accidentally run into teammates in the hallway at midnight,” she continues. “It’s not perfect, but it gives you some breathing room. Order room service if you need to. But try to stay out of the common areas.”
“I know the drill.”
I step toward the window and look out. The arena rises just across the street, its glass front reflecting the afternoon light. Even from here I can see people already moving around outside - fans arriving early, staff setting up.
It suddenly feels very real.
I turn back to the room.
The space that I don’t have to share with anyone.
It feels almost luxurious.
Then Tara glances at her watch.
“The first game is in two hours. You’ll want to rest a little before it.” She squeezes my arm once. “You’ve got this.”
Once she leaves, I sit down on the edge of the bed and run a hand through my hair.
For the next few days, this room is the only place I get to be myself.
ZANE
Showcase weekend officially begins with forty-five minutes of the team arguing over the music playlist on the bus ride down.
Russo insists on something aggressively motivating. Chen sits quietly with his headphones on, clearly having solved the problem in the only sensible way.
I slide into a seat near the back and stretch my legs into the empty space across from me.
“Alright,” Mercer says loudly from two rows ahead, “million-dollar question. Where the fuck is Shaw?”
“Traveling with Tara,” someone answers from the back.
“The guy can’t get on a bus?”
“Medical thing,” Chen says without looking up.
Mercer snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Medical thing. So people keep saying.” He turns halfway around in his seat, scanning the bus like Shaw might suddenly appear. “I’m just saying. I’ve never seen someone with a medical condition that requires this much absence. It’s suspicious.”
“It’s not suspicious,” Chen says calmly. “It’s just private.”
Mercer raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I respect privacy. But I’m also curious.”
The bus lurches slightly as we pull onto the highway, the campus disappearing behind us.
Mercer stretches his legs into the aisle. “You think he’s secretly thirty?”
Barrett laughs. “Or a former NHL player hiding from the media.”
“Guys,” I say.
“What?”
“Leave it alone.” Mercer looks back at me, surprised.
Then he grins. “Ohh. Blake’s defensive.”
“I’m not defensive.”
“You are.”
Mercer leans over the seat-back, studying my face like he’s discovered something interesting.
“You like him.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Team loyalty,” Russo says solemnly. “The guy helped us get here.”
Mercer shrugs. “I still think it’s weird. But if he turns out to be secretly married with three kids and a mortgage, I called it.”
Russo laughs.
I shake my head and look out the window as the highway stretches ahead of us.
I can’t believe there’ll be scouts in the stands - there to just watch us. To watch me. This could be my chance.
And about Shaw?
I’m curious too.
But right now, I’m just glad he’s coming with us.
Finally, the bus pulls into the hotel lot and I immediately start scanning.
Other teams. Other players. Scouts, probably, though they’re harder to spot.
“See any NHL guys?” someone asks.
“Too early.”
I can sense the tension in the group.
The hotel lobby is chaos.
Teams checking in. Staff trying to direct traffic.
I grab my bag and head for the elevators.
21