“Laura. Everything okay?”
I held up the bottle. “Sam forgot this.”
For a second, he just looked at it. I think we were both remembering the same thing. The hallway. Coach Dawson. A water bottle sweating in my hand while my whole world tipped sideways.
Then I held it out to him.
“Would you give it to him?” I said.
Greg looked at the bottle. Then he looked at me. He set the mop down very carefully against the wall, wiped his hands on his uniform, and took it from me with both hands, like it was something much heavier than it was.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I’ll make sure he gets it.”
I watched him walk down the hall toward the locker rooms. I didn’t follow him. I didn’t need to.
I went back out to my car and sat in the parking lot for a few minutes with the engine off, watching the sun go down behind the rink.
