Page 81 of Lighting the Lamp
“Are you kidding me?” he groans. “I watched a video about that move this morning!”
“Well, there’s your first mistake,” I call back, tossing the puck behind the net. “Watching videos instead of practicing.”
“Your mom liked it.”
“Yourmom liked it,” I fire back.
“He’s been back for five minutes and he’s already unbearable.” Langley sighs from his place behind the net.
“Missed me?” I say, grinning so hard my face hurts.
“I missed the peace and quiet,” he mutters, but I can tell he’s glad I’m here.
They all are, the entire team—except for maybe Mercer, who seems to be plotting in the corner. I can feel it in the chirps, in the thump of sticks on the boards, in the way Cooper keeps sneaking proud glances at me. It hit me like a sucker punch I didn’t see coming, howmuchI missed this. The noise. The sweat. The weight of my gear. The feeling of being right where I belong. And God, I feelgood. No, it’s better than good. I’m finally feeling like myself again.
The meds are working. My treatment plan is dialed in, and I haven’t experienced a flare in over a week. I’m eating, sleeping, and skating like the ice was made for me. My body is mine again, not some unpredictable stranger I can’t trust. For the first time in months, I feel whole. But underneath the high, there’s a hitch; the quiet voice in the back of my head won’t shut up.
They don’t know.
They don’t know what I’ve been fighting.
What I’ve been hiding.
The pills I now have to take daily in order to function. The crushing fear that I’d never make it back onto the ice, and even if I did, I’d be a shadow of the player I used to be.
I should’ve told them all of this before coming back. I should tell them right now, but what would I even say?
Hey guys, I have lupus. It almost broke me, but I’m good now. Promise.
No one needs to know any of that. Especially not when everything’s finally right again. I made the right call. I know I did. I’m not hiding it because I’m ashamed, but because it’sunder control. I’m not a burden, and this moment and these feelings are mine.
Another whistle. We reset for shootout drills.
“Redemption arc, baby,” Crosby announces, skating to center ice like he’s entering the WWE. “Cue my entrance music.”
“You’re about to be humbled again,” I call out.
He dekes left, shoulder shimmies, and tries a backhanded toe drag, but I’m already there. Sliding across the crease and knocking it clean off his stick like it’s nothing.
“NO!” he yells. “Why are you like this?”
“Elite genetics,” I say, popping my mask up.
Cooper is up next. His shot is fast, low, and nearly perfect, but I snag it with my glove. He nods at me, full of respect and pride, although he doesn’t know I’m lying through my teeth. But it doesn’t matter because I feel amazing, strong enough to take on the whole damn league and win.
The locker room is pure chaos after practice, with wet gear everywhere and music blasting. Declan pretends his protein shake is vodka, and Jace dances around the room in a towel, yelling about launching an OnlyFans.
“Back like he never left,” Declan says, clapping my shoulder.
“You looked solid,” Bower adds. “Locked in and, honestly, a little terrifying.”
I laugh, pressing a towel to my face, the heat of effort giving way to that perfect, satisfied kind of ache. I’m here. I’m home. And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel broken. I feelinvincible.
So what if I’m still keeping secrets? I’m playing, and it feels fucking fantastic. And if that’s not enough—for them, for me—then maybe nothing ever will be.
The second I slide behind the wheel, my body hums with that perfect, bone-deep ache that only comes after you leave everything on the ice. My limbs are heavy, lungs still dragging in air like I haven’t exhaled in weeks, and for a split second, I let myself lean back and just feel it.
But the moment passes quickly as I watch Mercer storm past my truck, climb into his overpriced SUV, and peel out of the parking lot, headed lord knows fucking where. I don’t even know why he was at practice today. Sure, management told him he had to show up, but for what reason? Thankfully, Coach Cassidy and Cooper were there to run things. Mercer only stood there like he hadn’t spent the last few years building this team to bring home championships.
