HAYDEN

If the boards in our home rink could talk, they’d probably laugh at how stupidly happy I looked walking back through those doors.

The moment I stepped onto the scuffed rubber matting leading to the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat, old pads, and way-too-much Axe body spray hit me like a wave. And I didn’t even care. I actually inhaled like a weirdo because it meant I was back home.

“Yo!”

The shout echoed from the hallway up ahead, and then came a blur of movement.

A ...