Chapter 28 #2
I turn. The Wolves player who hit Shaw is in the box. Kozlov. He’s sitting there staring at nothing, like he can’t quite believe what just happened.
I want to kill him.
But the puck is dropping. The game is still happening. And Lee - Leonora - isn’t here.
I skate back to the faceoff circle.
I can’t find my rhythm. The passes that were automatic an hour ago feel forced, wrong. I keep looking for her along the boards, expecting her to be there, and she’s not.
Russo scores. I barely notice.
The Wolves answer. Then they score again.
By the time the buzzer sounds, I don’t remember most of it. Just flashes. Bodies moving. The scoreboard ticking. The hollow feeling in my chest that doesn’t match the way the bench is erupting around me.
Final score. Four-three. We win.
We’re champions.
The guys are shouting, hugging, throwing gloves in the air. I stand at the bench and watch them.
I should be in the middle of it. This is what I came for. This is what we worked for. A championship. The trophy. The moment that changes everything.
But all I can think about is her walking down that tunnel alone.
I turn away from the celebration.
I don’t know what I’m going to say when I find her. I don’t know what happens now - to her and to the team - to the season that’s about to get ripped apart by people who weren’t on the ice today.
But I know she shouldn’t be alone.
LEONORA
Tara is packing supplies into a bag. She looks up when the door opens, sees Zane, and hesitates.
“I’ll give you a minute,” she says.
She leaves. The door clicks shut behind her.
Zane stands in the middle of the room, still in his gear, still sweating from the game. His hair is damp. He looks like he ran the whole way here.
I pull the helmet off.
It comes away easily this time - no strap to unfasten, nothing to hold it in place.
Zane is looking at me.
“We won,” he says.
“I heard.”
“I didn’t-” He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t focus. I kept looking for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
He crosses the room. Sits on the table beside me. Not touching. Just close.
“You okay?”
The question is so ordinary, so impossible, that I almost laugh.
“No,” I say.
“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Me neither.”
“What happens now?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is quiet.
“I don’t know. The conference will investigate. They might take the wins. The championship-” He stops. “They might take all of it.”
I stare at the floor.
“I cost you everything.”
“No. You didn’t cost us anything. You won us games. You won us a championship. They can take the banner down if they want. That doesn’t change what happened on the ice.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know that. The team - the scouts - your career - "
“Stop.”
He takes my hand. I don’t know when he moved it. His fingers are warm, rough from tape, steady.
“I’ve been playing hockey my whole life,” he says. “I’ve had good linemates. Great ones. But I’ve never had anyone who sees the ice the way you do.”
He turns to look at me.
“That’s not a disguise. That’s not a secret. That’s you. And I don’t care what name they put on the roster. I don’t care what the conference decides. I’m not letting you go through this alone.”
I’m crying. I don’t remember when that started either.
His thumb brushes the back of my hand.
“Whatever comes next,” he says, “we face it together.”
ZANE
The door opens later - I don’t know how much later. Tara comes back in with Coach Calloway behind her. He looks at us sitting there, my hand wrapped around hers, and something in his expression shifts.
“They’ve completed the trophy presentation,” he says. “But the guys have a lot of questions.”
I start to pull away. She doesn’t let go.
Coach looks at her. “I think you need to go and talk to them.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Take your time. We’ll wait.”
He leaves. Tara follows, closing the door gently behind her.
LEONORA
Zane looks at me.
I look at the helmet in my lap. The broken strap. The skullcap on the floor where I dropped it.
“I can’t go out there like this.”
“Then don’t.” He stands, pulls me up with him. “But you’re not hiding in here either.”
He reaches for my hair - hesitates, checking - then gently pulls it back from my face. His fingers are careful, like he’s handling something fragile.
“Tie it back,” he says. “But leave the helmet. Let them see you.”
“You want me to walk out there without it?”
“I want them to see the player who won this championship. Not the disguise.”
I don’t move. I can’t. The fear is too loud.
He takes my chin gently, tilts my face up.
“You’re the best player I’ve ever shared the ice with. That’s you. And they should know exactly who you are.”
I look at him. At his eyes, dark and certain, like he’s never been more sure of anything.
ZANE
I join the guys in the locker room. Leonora is going to join as soon as she’s ready.
The trophy sits on the table near the center of the room.
No one’s even looking at it.
We just won the final. We should be loud, celebrating, tearing the place apart.
Instead, everyone’s sitting in their gear. Because all anyone can see is her.
Helmet gone. Hair spilling loose.
The moment everything shifted.
The door at the front of the room opens.
Coach Calloway steps in.
His face is unreadable.
That’s worse than if he was angry.
He closes the door behind him and stands there, looking at all of us.
“We need to talk about what happened. I’ve asked Leonora to come and address us. Ultimately, this is a member of this team. We will handle it as such.”
There’s a brief silence.
Then the room explodes.
“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”
Mercer is on his feet, pacing, hands thrown out like he’s been personally vindicated by the universe.
“I told you,” he snaps. “I TOLD YOU something was off. And now what? Now we’re all going down because of it?”
“Calm down,” someone mutters.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Mercer shoots back. “We just played an entire tournament with-”
“With what?” Chen cuts in, quiet but assertive.
Mercer turns toward him. “With an imposter.”
Chen doesn’t raise his voice. “It doesn’t change how she plays.”
That stops a few people.
Barrett leans forward on the bench, brow furrowed.
“Wait,” he says, almost disbelieving. “So you don’t care Shaw’s a girl? Like… an actual girl?”
Barrett shakes his head slowly. “That’s… insane. She never belonged on this team.”
Russo is still sitting, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely in front of him. Thinking.
He finally looks up. “What happens now?”
The question hangs there.
No one answers because no one knows.
Calloway doesn’t either. I wonder if his job is at risk.
There’s a knock at the door.
The room goes still again.
“Come in,” Calloway answers.
The door opens.
And she walks in.
Her hair is tied back and her face is pale but steady. There’s something in her expression - fear, yeah, but also something harder underneath it.
She closes the door behind her.
And for a second, no one breathes.
These are the guys who’ve hit her, passed to her, laughed with her. Who’ve stood shoulder to shoulder with her on the ice for weeks.
And she’s been lying to all of them.
Her gaze moves across the room.
She looks at everyone.
“My name is Leonora Shaw.”
Her voice is steady.
“Markus Shaw is my brother,” she continues. “My father - David Shaw - coached this team for twelve years.”
A ripple moves through the room.
Recognition.
Mercer lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, this is rich.”
She doesn’t even look at him.
“I didn’t do this to trick you,” she says. “I didn’t do it to cheat. I did it because-”
Her voice catches.
“Because this college cut the women’s team years ago. And because I watched my dad build something here,” she goes on, quieter now, “and I watched it fall apart, and I just-”
She stops. Takes a breath.
“I just wanted to play.”
No one speaks.
No one moves.
It’s like the whole room is holding itself in place.
I don’t remember stepping forward. But suddenly I’m walking toward her. Every eye in the room is tracking me waiting to see how I handle it.
I stop in front of her. She looks up at me.
There’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before.
Uncertainty.
Like this is the moment that decides everything.
“You set me up for a goal in your first game.”
“What?”
“The Eagles game,” I say. “First period. You drew the defender and slipped it across.”
“I - yes.”
“You learned to throw a check in one practice with Chen.”
The words come easier now.
“You made us better.”
I hold her gaze. “I don’t care what name you used.”
Mercer stands again, disbelief written all over his face.
“You don’t CARE?” he snaps. “Blake, are you hearing yourself? She LIED to us. She cost us-”
“She cost us NOTHING.”
I turn on him.
“Name one game she lost for us,” I say. “Name one shift where she didn’t earn her ice time.”
Mercer opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
“She played better than most of this room. And you know it.”
The silence that follows is different now.
Less chaotic. More… divided.
But I can see the relief in her. That she’s finally come clean. And maybe the guys can’t instantly forgive her - but this is a start.
LEONORA
The corridor is quiet after the noise of the locker room.
Coach Calloway walks beside me for a few steps before speaking.
“David’s daughter…” he says, almost to himself. “I should have known.”
I glance at him.
“The Shaw surname should have been enough of a giveaway.” He speaks quietly. “I never met him. I only took over after he passed. But I heard a lot.”
We reach the end of the corridor. He stops.
Turns to face me properly.
“I knew enough about him to know he’d be proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
He nods once, like that part matters. Like it needed to be said.
“I wish things were different, Leonora,” he says. “I really do.”
I already know what’s coming.
“But they aren’t,” he adds. “And I have to look out for the team.”
I nod. Of course he does.
“I understand.”
“You can’t play on this team anymore,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”
And that’s it - it’s done.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry about how it’s all turned out.”
I nod again.
Because there’s nothing else to say.
I turn and walk down the corridor alone.
And suddenly it’s over.