David drives back to Beartown. Sits in the car crying with anger. He’s ashamed. He’s disgusted. At himself. He’s spent his whole life in hockey training a boy, has loved him like a son, been loved in return like a father. There’s no more loyal player than Benji. No one whose heart is bigger than his. How many times has David hugged number sixteen after a game and told him, “You’re the bravest bastard I know, Benji. The bravest bastard I know.” And after all those hours in the locker room, all those nights on the team bus, all the conversations and all the jokes and the blood, sweat, and tears,
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