"Not all victories are clean."
Tuesday morning practice started at six sharp, which meant Silver had to drag herself across campus in the dark. She'd promised Eli she'd come watch, though neither of them had said it out loud last night. Some things you just knew.
Ingalls was already alive when she pushed through the doors, the familiar sounds of morning practice filling the space. Pucks hitting tape, coaches yelling corrections, that particular scrape of edges biting ice during backward crossovers. The team was running a standard breakout drill on the near side while the second line worked on defensive zone coverage at the far end.
Eli stood out immediately, even from the upper section where Silver settled with her coffee. His number 17 moved with intent, cutting harder than necessary through each drill. Where other players coasted during resets, he kept moving, stick on ice, shoulders squared.
