“Hey, Phil,” Micah says. “Guess what? We played our best period this season with you watching, so you’re our good luck charm now. You know what that means, right?” “No, what?” He wiggles his dark brows. “You’re icebound.” “What? Icebound?” “Yeah. Means you’re bound by the rituals of the hockey gods like us, so you have to watch all our games.
