“Or maybe I’ll never make the team.” She starts to cry again, and although it kills me to make it worse, we promised each other we’d always be honest. “Maybe you won’t,” I agree softly. She rears back, releasing a cross between a laugh and a wheeze. “You are so bad at this.” “Maybe you won’t ever make the team,” I repeat. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the single greatest player in women’s college hockey right now. Fairlee said so himself. He’s not looking at stats, because if he was, you’d be on that roster in a heartbeat.”
